Enchanted Dreams Part 6

"I did not have an affair with anyone."

"Where were you, then?"

She was silent for a moment, wondering what to say. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I don't remember getting up and leaving our cabin that night," she told him honestly.

"What about going to the bar?"

She shook her head. "No."

"You don't remember anything about that night?"

"No," she said again, thinking to herself, Not anything I could tell you about.

David looked at her for a long moment. He seemed to sense that she was keeping something from him, although it appeared he wanted to believe her.

"Well, then, would you kindly explain why have you been so...different ever since that night?"

"I don't know, David," she said. "I really don't know." There were so many things she didn't know. She didn't know why she felt so different about him now. She didn't know how she got out of their bed that night and ended up in the bright room. She was alarmed by the possibility that David might really have seen her with one of the bartenders. She had no memory of being in the lounge or talking to anyone. Was she there before or after the incident? Could the bartender have had something to do with what happened? Perhaps someone had slipped something into her drink. Did something really happen in a bright room or was it all just a hallucination of some kind? Could she even be certain that the events she remembered ever really happened?

But she almost immediately rejected the idea that the incident might not have been real. It had happened. The memories were too vivid. The taste of metal was still in her mouth.

And she was pregnant. That was no hallucination. Yet, she and David had spent most of their time on that cruise holed up in their cabin, until that night. Even before they left for the cruise, they were intimate nearly every night. It was not entirely impossible that the child was his. The odds were probably better that it was. There had only been that one incident on the cruise, and she couldn't even remember all of the details. Given what David just told her, there surely was some question about what happened that night. And even if it did happen the way she remembered it, she reminded herself again that it was only the one incident. What were the chances that a single incident would result in pregnancy?

But on the other hand, after four years of trying to get pregnant with David, wouldn't it, in fact, make more sense that the isolated incident must have resulted in pregnancy, given that David's efforts had thus far failed?

No, the baby was not David's. Emilie could not say why but she knew it. She tried to convince herself that once she rid herself of it, she and David could return to the way they were. In the meantime, she would just have to make more of an effort to hide her present feelings and go through the motions of married life as if everything were normal. Clearly she would have to try harder.

Her talk with David seemed to act like a cathartic. The realization of what she had to do next was there all along, but until now it had seemed to exist in her subconscious exclusively, lingering as if from quite a far distance off...so far that she had not felt compelled to act on it as yet. Everything was happening so quickly. But now, suddenly, she felt an incredible urgency to act.

Surprisingly, there was no hesitation or regret. Everything that Emilie had believed and held dear up to that point instantly disappeared. Things like choice and guilt were luxuries that no longer existed for her. That little voice inside her-the one that had always held her to standards based on a life of longing for a child of her own-had been silenced in a single moment. Her terror, pure and solid and more real than anything she had ever known before, was growing as rapidly as the creature inside her seemed to be. It obliterated every other emotion.

First thing the next morning, with the episode with David still fresh in her mind, Emilie opened the phone book. She was unsure who to call. She could hardly contact her regular doctor, who had spent the last few years trying to help her and David conceive. Flipping through the pages, she was surprised to find that there was a category for abortion. She dialed the first number listed.

"You have options," the woman at the other end of the phone told her in a gentle, understanding tone. Emilie had made several botched attempts to articulate her situation. The woman, however, appeared to need no explanations or excuses. She seemed satisfied to simply provide the information in a kindly, indifferent manner and allow the nervous callers, of which she clearly had many, to choose the course best for them. "We have both the pill and the procedure available at this clinic."

"There's a pill?" asked Emilie, surprised. She had not kept up with what was happening in the world of women's rights, being so committed to her life as wife and prospective mother.

"Indeed there is," the woman informed her brightly. "Shall I schedule you an appointment for a consultation?"

Emilie felt a sudden wave of panic. In that instant, her morning sickness kicked in and a ripple of intense heat flooded her insides, followed by an upsurge of nausea. She swallowed the taste of metal. "What happens during the consultation?" she asked.

"Nothing too traumatic," the woman a.s.sured her cheerfully, perhaps sensing her discomfort or maybe just accustomed to these questions from women riddled with unwanted emotions and distracted from fighting down their nausea. "We will, of course, do a pregnancy test and if there's any confusion about how far along you are we may do an ultrasound. Other than that, the consultation is pretty much just to inform you of your choices and offer any other support you may need."

That might not seem traumatic for most women, thought Emilie, but the idea of a pregnancy test-and especially an ultrasound-terrified her. What might they discover if they prodded too closely? "I already had a pregnancy test," she told the woman. "And I know the day of conception."

"Of course," the woman replied smoothly. "We have to do our own pregnancy test on our patients, but it's possible we may not need to do an ultrasound on you. But those are the things we can discuss when you come in. Which day is best for you?"

After a long pause, Emilie finally said, "Any day, the sooner the better."

And in spite of her fears, the pregnancy test did not reveal anything except that Emilie was pregnant. The doctor's expression held nothing but simple courtesy as she confirmed Emilie's condition. Emilie sat stiffly on a table, shivering in her examination gown. The doctor asked her to lie back and began pressing on her lower stomach. "Tell me if you have pain anywhere," she said. Then she lifted Emilie's feet into stirrups that had fuzzy socks attached to the ends. Emilie tried to think of an appropriate objection to being examined.

The doctor slipped two gloved fingers into Emilie's v.a.g.i.n.a and pressed a little more. Her eyebrows rose. Emilie held her breath when she saw the change in the doctor's expression.

"I think you may be wrong about the time of conception," the doctor told her. "You seem farther along than one to two weeks."

Emilie's heart seemed to stop for an instant, then it resumed beating with heavy, racking thuds. She tried to breathe normally but was only able to take in very small, unsatisfactory breaths. There seemed to be a blockage about midway into her lungs, preventing her from taking in enough air. She felt dizzy, but fought the urge to faint. Terror was ripping through her.

"Not to worry," the doctor continued, slipping the gloves off her hands and throwing them into a nearby trash bin marked Hazardous Materials. "We can do an ultrasound."

"No!" Emilie exclaimed.

The doctor looked at her with mild surprise. A strange sense of events spiraling out of her control enveloped Emilie. She felt that she positively could not risk the doctor actually seeing whatever it was growing inside her uterus. She berated herself inwardly. She believed all along that it was growing at an abnormally rapid pace, and she realized now that she could have averted this by giving the doctor an earlier conception date. She felt more desperate than ever that she should not allow the doctor to perform the ultrasound. "Please..." she began, trying to speak calmly. "It cannot be much farther along than what I told you," she pleaded. "I swear that I had my last period."

"That could have been spotting," said the doctor. "An ultrasound is not painful or-"

"But I know I can't be that much farther along," Emilie protested. "I know I couldn't be nine weeks anyway, and you said they give women the abortion pill up to nine weeks!"

"Yes, that's correct," said the doctor. "And I do agree that you are not yet nine weeks." She paused a moment, examining Emilie's face. "Are you certain that you want to terminate this pregnancy?"

"Yes." Emilie nodded her head vigorously. "I am absolutely certain."

"Well-" the doctor sighed, picking up Emilie's file "-your blood work came back okay, so in that case we can begin your treatment today."

Emilie hadn't realized that she had stopped breathing until she heard these words from the doctor. Her breath came out in an explosive rush. She didn't dare speak. The relief temporarily overwhelmed her.

But three days later, after having taken her first pill in the doctor's office that day, and then following up with the rest of the pills at home exactly as she had been instructed to do, Emilie was devastated to find that she was still pregnant. Not only had the pregnancy not been terminated, it seemed to her that whatever was inside her was still growing at an accelerated pace.

She was afraid to call the doctor and tell her the news. Surely now they would insist that she have the ultrasound.

Emilie sat down miserably in front of her computer. Opening the Internet, she typed in the search box the words pregnant by an alien. More than four million results came up.

One by one, Emilie began following the links and spent the rest of that day reading. There was a lot to sift through. Most of the links consisted of insane chatter that offered no real enlightenment, but from the seemingly more reliable sources she found some consistencies that she herself could attest to. There were apparently many other women out there who had similar experiences to hers. Some people believed that the "grays," as she now believed she had encountered, often impregnated women in an effort to produce "hybrid"-half alien, half human-children. Why these hybrids were being bred Emilie could not find a satisfactory answer to. But she found great comfort in the fact that other women had been through an encounter that was remarkably similar to her own. In particular, she became hopeful when she read that many of the impregnated abductees reported having a second encounter shortly after the first, where the aliens returned to take the fetus from the mothers. Some women claimed to have gone through this entire process several times with the aliens. Others claimed to have experienced a kind of communication with them, where they were provided the "knowledge" that these hybrids were necessary for the continuation of the aliens' civilization. Emilie read all that she could find on these hybrids and their mothers, but in spite of the large number of hits she had gotten, there appeared to be precious little useful information to be found.

But the mere suggestion of the aliens returning gave Emilie cause for hope, and she fervently clung to the possibility that the aliens would come back and relieve her of her burden.

And yet, she knew that she could not rely on this. She must do something. But what?

She had already been informed by the nurses at the clinic that, in the event that the treatment did not work, she would be obliged to follow through with the procedural abortion. There were several problems a.s.sociated with this, both of which seemed insurmountable to Emilie. First, the procedure they recommended was best performed between six to twelve weeks. She would never be able to endure carrying it another four weeks. But it was even worse to imagine going through the procedure. What kind of matter would they find when they extracted the contents of her uterus?

It was preferable to imagine that the aliens would return. But how could she be certain that they would? Yet the idea, once conceived, took hold of her consciousness, and Emilie suddenly found herself waiting. Every moment, with every movement and sound around her, she realized that she was only waiting. Even when she seemed to forget that she was waiting, she would suddenly remember again when she jumped to attention at the slightest noise, or flash of light, or anything else that captured her attention. But always she was disappointed to find something other than what she was waiting for. During this time, a kind of shift took place in her consciousness, so that she lived in state of constant expectancy that was shattered by thousands upon thousands of little disappointments.

Imagining the aliens' impending return, Emilie's entire being would become alive and alert, tingling with an unwelcome and discomfiting antic.i.p.ation. Yet now she had good reason to accept, and even desire, their return. Recollections, fleeting but powerfully persuasive, would tease and torment her consciousness. Images of the tentacles-ma.s.sive and encroaching in damp, colorless gray-flashed before her eyes, capturing her, holding her, penetrating her. With every pa.s.sing hour her sense of expectancy grew, so that the slightest indication of something approaching would cause her hair to stand on end and her flesh to tremble and pulse. In those moments she was frozen with expectation and need, although she was repulsed by her own desire. She was alarmed and mortified by the jarring response of her body to the memories, which should have left her petrified with dread, not aching and wet with yearning. She tried to focus on the many negative and frightening aspects of the experience, but like a moth hovering too near a scorching flame, she was already trapped in the hypnotic spell of the bright white light, and she fluttered about in a frenzy as it continued to draw her in, closer and closer to that which frightened her most. In accepting her fate, she had come to expect it, even look forward to it, and in the meantime a terrible yearning took over all of her consciousness, creating an aching discomfort deep in her womb.

During this time of expecting, Emilie's dreams became even more intense and detailed. Often when she awoke, she genuinely believed the dreams really had happened. She would sit up in bed, excitedly grasping at the details of her vision, until she felt the familiar morning sickness well up, and her mouth watered from the offending taste of metal. Then she would lie back down in bed and close her eyes, trying to recapture the dream and retreat back to the state of mind that took her there. There was little left of actual terror now, for she had come to realize that they were not going to physically harm her. They were, underneath their alien exterior-she felt-harmless and peaceful creatures. There was even a kind of gentle beauty in their eyes as they silently watched her. They never spoke, not even to each other. The only sounds she ever heard were the slick, fluid noises coming from her body and her own echoing cries. The aliens, in spite of their absolute silence, somehow managed to convey a sense of calm so potent it would have taken drugs to produce the same effect by human standards. She had a sense that their every movement was calculated and controlled and significant. Her mind always seemed to go back to her memory of the tentacles, and she thought about them continually, imagining them caressing her, restraining her, penetrating her.

The dreams left Emilie weak with longing.

With the pa.s.sing days a kind of frustration began to develop. Although Emilie's sense of waiting and expectation intensified, her fear that the aliens would not return also grew. This frustration kept her in a constant state of irritable touchiness and, everyone, especially David, kept a wide berth between themselves and her.

After a while, the fear caused her sense of urgency to reemerge. The alien thing inside her was still growing at an accelerated pace. She realized that she couldn't wait any longer. She reluctantly scheduled a second appointment at the clinic. But she was actually more terrified of what might happen at the clinic than anything she might be subjected to in an alien encounter. The events that had taken place in that encounter had been shocking and traumatic, but the thought of being exposed was unimaginable. Her life would be over.

This time there were protesters at the clinic. Emilie sat in her car, silently watching them. She did not feel that she possessed the strength to walk into the building. But with a sudden burst of anger, she got out of her car and approached the building. She saw that the protesters spotted her, but she refused to retreat. She must get to the other side. She could hear their angry voices shouting out messages and was seized with a full-blown fury of her own. What right did they have to try to stop her? Their conviction was suddenly terribly oppressive to her. She struggled to control her rage as she brushed off the pamphlets and flyers they flung at her.

But a dizzying confusion was coming over her. The crowd seemed larger than she originally thought. In which direction was she going? She was suddenly disoriented. Panic seized her as she struggled to find her way out of the crowd. She longed to scream but couldn't find her voice. Someone had hold of her. They were leading her, talking to her with soothing little sounds. A strange heat moved through her, searing upward, and filling her head in a sudden rush. She felt light-headed and realized she was going to faint.

And yet she did not lose consciousness. Somehow, the crowd just suddenly disappeared. Emilie didn't move-she couldn't move. It was as if she were paralyzed. But she was moving. There was no tangible movement that she could detect and yet she was certain that she was being moved. A strange sense of deja vu crept over her. She realized that she was floating. Her last thoughts were of the white room with the bright lights.

Emilie woke up with a start, believing herself to be at the clinic, but there was an instant awareness of unreality all around her. And there were bright lights! She wondered hopefully if she had finally made it back. Perhaps her trip to the clinic had forced the aliens into action. Had they intercepted her? She looked around and suddenly there was no doubt that she was back in the white room. But was she only dreaming it?

She realized that she was naked and the antic.i.p.ation filled her in such a rush that it jarred her on impact. A slow, tingling upsurge of stinging desire seeped tenaciously through her veins, meandering along each of the various pathways toward her womb. Her heart thudded heavily in her ears. Her legs had been lifted and were being held far apart. She could feel the cells all around her womb rising and swelling and moistening in readiness. Each one seemed to be pulsing with its own pounding, stinging ache. She squinted as she looked around her. Her eyes were slow in adjusting to the unnaturally bright light, but she desperately wanted to be certain that it was really happening this time.

Emilie felt something cool on her leg and jerked her head in that direction, still struggling to see. The heat of the light penetrated her, radiating inward, with so much potency that it felt like a physical touch. Yes. She believed that she was truly awake and that they had returned. Full remembrance of what happened came rushing back as Emilie felt the first tentacle creep insidiously upward along the inside of her leg. The tentacle clung to her flesh as it moved, causing goose b.u.mps to rise up in alarm. It felt like hundreds of tiny, podlike suction cups clinging and grasping at her skin as it worked its way over her, reminding her of an immense caterpillar that clutches as it moves. The tentacles gently kneaded and pinched with every advance, sending all of her nerve endings into a flurry of sensations, ranging from revulsion to arousal. She felt another tentacle moving over her, and then another, and she could just make out the dusky formations against her pale skin. She did not resist, although she did have the presence of mind to feel an instinctual terror. But after the weeks of terrified brooding, with all of her senses held hostage by the dread of them not returning, her relief gave her body the freedom to suddenly come alive. Recalling her dreams, she brazenly reached her hands out to inquisitively touch the alien tentacles. The feel of them on her sensitive fingertips brought a fresh horror to the experience, as well as sending an alarming thrill through the center of her. They were real. It was going to happen again. A powerful surge of arousal flooded her womb, causing her v.u.l.v.a to swell painfully under the force of it. Her body ached with need.

Emilie turned her head and tried to capture a glimpse of them. Their visages were dim and difficult to make out in the harsh light, but she could clearly see their large, vacant eyes peering at her. She stared into the impenetrable orbs in openmouthed wonder as the tentacles continued to slowly advance on her, kneading and pulling at her quivering flesh as they inched their way up and wrapped themselves around her arms and legs to hold her steady for what was to come. She shook with impatience.

This time, having the terror of not knowing what to expect behind her, Emilie's senses were more keenly in tune with each and every nuance. She noticed in particular that their tentacles seemed to secrete something liquid as they moved over her, clasping and pulling-perhaps even penetrating-her tingling flesh in the process, and afterward leaving traces of the mysterious residue behind. She could distinctly feel the flurry of activity all along the undersides of their tentacles, constantly shifting and grasping as thousands of tiny fingers seemed to break through her skin with their continuous barrage of little clinging pinches. It suddenly occurred to her that this residue could be having some kind of tranquilizing effect on her; although her skin seemed to come alive under its influence, a sense of well-being seemed to be seeping into her, releasing her inhibitions and enhancing her desire. She felt all at once paralyzed and alert, so that, although she could hardly move, she could most definitely feel, and more keenly than she could ever remember feeling before. Spread wide open and immobilized as she was, she could not help but think of a fly trapped in the web of a spider. She reminded herself that she was not the aliens' prey. And yet, she was also keenly aware that they wanted something from her.

All of this was happening at an excruciatingly slow pace, as if in slow motion, reminding Emilie of her dreams. But this was much more vivid than any dream, and unlike her dreams, it was not somewhere off in the distance but right here in front of her, acutely real. And now, at long last, she glimpsed the other appendage-the very one that always evaded her in her dreams-approaching. Wobbly and thick, it moved toward her like something ma.s.sive being conveyed on the end of a tenuous wire. It appeared even broader than she remembered-it was oh so thick-and grayish in color, just like the tentacles. Emilie watched, transfixed, as it advanced. Her arms and legs were still spread wide and held gently but firmly in place by the clinging, moving tentacles, allowing this new appendage full access to her body. She strained painfully against her lively restraints, not in an effort to escape the appendage but struggling to bring her body forward, to meet it head-on, hardly able to wait for it in its excruciating slowness. She sucked in her breath. She could no longer see the tip of it but she could suddenly feel it, there, at the entrance!

She wanted it, G.o.d help her. She wanted every alarming moment of it. She couldn't wait for it, in fact. She tried to open herself even more in an effort to accommodate the appendage but her limbs remained paralyzed. It was as if she had no limbs. Only those sensations that allowed her to feel what was happening remained active and keenly alert. Yet the tentacles continued to hold her down in spite of her paralysis, and all the while their undersides kept ceaselessly kneading and clasping at her flesh with what felt like a thousand tiny suction cups.

Emily moaned loudly as the appendage, pulsing and gyrating thickly, wriggled in between the folds of her l.a.b.i.a, parting her lips with its broad head and coercing her to open. She was stunned momentarily by the intense pleasure she got from having the alien inside her again. The appendage worked its way in slowly, urging her to accept its gangly fullness leisurely and persuasively, throbbing so vigorously that she could feel the reverberations throughout her womb. Inch by painstakingly slow inch, it advanced farther up into her, easing the painful ache that had been building in her during the weeks of waiting and expecting.

Meanwhile, the vibrating thing that was filling her continued to inch forward and expand. It, too, released a kind of slick substance as it pressed onward, but this made its advance only slightly easier, since the sheer size of it caused every forward thrust to stretch and graze her tender inner flesh.

As the appendage approached her womb, Emilie readied herself for what was to come. Even in the throes of ecstasy, she was aware of what was happening. She understood what was expected of her and knew what they had come to do. She all at once comprehended the images around her, even with her vision blurred by the too-white light. She suddenly recognized the odd, grayish blotches that spattered the white-walled background for what they were-hybrids, the women online had called them, in various stages of development, that were kept in jars on the wall. Why Emilie had been chosen for this she didn't know, but she would do what had to be done, and with this thought she felt a sense of purpose. She could feel their need for her as acutely as she could feel her own.

One of the tentacles that had been holding her legs had begun moving steadily upward while it held her, winding and ma.s.saging its way to the very top of her thigh and then resting its tip on the inside edge. Emilie edged her body alongside it so that she could rub her c.l.i.toris vigorously against it in an attempt to relieve the exquisite agony that continued to steadily rise up within her. Her body was throbbing with sensation, and she began to rock, moving her hips back and forth with anxious little jerks, struggling to create the right friction between her and the wayward tentacle. She was too wrapped up in her immediate need to think of anything else. There was nothing else but the enormous, pulsing appendage that filled her.

But just as the ache was nearing what she felt was the most intense pleasure of her life, her euphoria was interrupted by the approach of a second appendage that she suddenly caught sight of. She cried out when she saw it, instantly recalling its purpose from the previous encounter.

This new appendage came at Emilie just as agonizingly slowly as the first one had done, and she felt equal parts desire and dread as she waited for it. But when she eventually felt it pulsing at her a.n.a.l entrance, pressing and whirling against the tightly puckered hole, the antic.i.p.ation from the extended wait made her long for it. It pressed into her patiently but persistently, releasing more of the tantalizing fluid as it ultimately breached the opening and snaked its way inside. Like the first appendage, it kept pulsing and vibrating as it worked its way into her body. But it was not as large as the other and, once inside, it appeared to act as yet another restraint to hold her still while the aliens completed their objective. Without words, the aliens had managed to communicate this to her, and she now knew this and many other things, such as that she had been specifically selected to be impregnated, and that the hybrid that she carried would end up with the others on the wall. She remembered everything from the previous encounter, and other things besides, but none of it mattered, except that she was now able to comprehend and antic.i.p.ate the events as they were taking place.

Emilie waited for her body to adjust to the intrusive feeling of being so completely filled by the aliens' appendages. She knew that immediately after the discomfort, incredible pleasure would follow. And sure enough, her first o.r.g.a.s.m exploded within her, and she shuddered in the realization that it would set off one right after the other, like an avalanche of pleasure that once began could not be stopped. She was prepared and even yearning for all of it now, and she looked around for the third appendage, even as she saw that it was approaching her from the side. She opened her mouth to accept it, shuddering as another o.r.g.a.s.m ripped through her. She savored the pungent flavor of its metallic fluid this time, at last understanding that it would amplify her pleasure. And she could already feel the intensity of her o.r.g.a.s.ms increasing.

Emilie closed her eyes and tried to contain the steady waves of ecstatic pleasure that were overtaking her. It seemed as if her entire being was throbbing and pulsing in perfect time with the aliens. She must appear like something alien herself, wrapped in their tentacles, with their enormous appendages extending from every orifice. She moaned in exquisite agony at the image of her white skin amongst so much of their sallow gray. The lower half of her body felt invaded and filled and immobilized, even as every molecule screamed with tingling, agonizing pleasure. She eagerly swallowed the mysterious fluid, feeling her mouth water from the sharp taste of metal as she delighted in the sensations of being penetrated and stretched and restrained from all angles. Wave after wave of o.r.g.a.s.mic euphoria burst forth in her like the concrete blocks of a dam giving way in a storm. And even in between o.r.g.a.s.ms, the pleasure continued to trickle through her in little gushes that made her quiver and jump.

The appendages extended out perhaps eighteen inches or so from the aliens' bodies, but how much of this she was taking inside her body Emily could not have said. She could feel the first appendage pressing and vibrating determinedly against the opening of her womb. She sucked more enthusiastically on the appendage in her mouth, preparing herself for what she knew would be coming next. Meanwhile, her o.r.g.a.s.ms kept intensifying as she choked down the taste of metal.

With slow, deliberate precision, the first appendage began to expand and contract, spreading its tip out over her womb and filling her with a thick, heavy pressure as it clamped itself onto it. She could feel the pressure in her a.n.u.s increasing as well, while that appendage expanded also in an attempt to hold her even more still in preparation for what was to come. With her so fully subdued, she could no longer rock her hips back and forth to further stimulate herself but this was no longer necessary anyway, as she could not stop the o.r.g.a.s.ms now if she tried.

Emilie braced herself as she felt the appendage gently force open her cervix. She felt a giddy sense of unreality, in spite of the thick, swelling cramps that overtook her. She willed herself to open wider, and she could feel herself opening. She swallowed more of the mysterious fluid, and the cramps seemed to contribute to the pleasure she was receiving, making each delightful wave feel heavier and stronger and more penetrating.

In spite of the pleasure Emilie was receiving, she could not help feeling a flash of fleeting alarm and mild resistance with each new phase of the experience, but she knew that it would disappear just as quickly as it had come. She felt it again when she perceived that something was permeating her womb. It must have come from inside the appendage, whatever it was that was making its way into her womb. It worked at its objective diligently, opening her even wider as it went. The cramping continued in thick, rolling, waves that seemed to catch hold of her o.r.g.a.s.m and make it swell and pulse throughout her abdomen. She moaned loudly, staring up into their vacant depths as o.r.g.a.s.m after o.r.g.a.s.m washed over her. And the aliens just kept silently watching her with their expressionless eyes.

Emilie now felt a cool, sticky fluid being expelled into her womb. She was beginning to enjoy being used by these creatures to propagate their species, and she was more than willing to accept all that it entailed. The only fear she felt at that moment was that, once they finished what they were doing, it would be over. The emptiness that she would feel then, she could not bear to think about. She must focus on the present. Already, her body was showing signs of exhaustion and she knew that once they were finished in her womb it would be over. She focused on the appendages that penetrated her as wave after wave of intense pleasure a.s.sailed her. They filled her so completely, expanding and stretching her so absolutely, that she could hardly focus on anything else. She had reached a state of euphoria, aroused beyond anything she could have imagined.

Emilie moaned in ecstasy as another wave of pleasure rushed through her. The wetness was now seeping out of her, soaking her inner thighs. It was almost too much to endure, being so utterly ravished by the h.o.a.ry, pulsing appendages that twisted and ground inside her. She wondered vaguely as she stared up at them what they were thinking. Did all of their other abductees behave the same as she did? Did they wonder about her as well, while they silently watched her squirm and moan? Did they know the pleasure they were giving her? Did it please them, or did they find her peculiar? She suddenly wanted to speak to them but her mouth was still filled with the appendage and the taste of metal. She stared into their black, seemingly vacant eyes, and tried to communicate her thoughts to them. With her eyes she kept silently pleading with them. She wanted them to know that they could come back for her. She wanted to a.s.sure them that they could use her again and again. The fact that other women claimed to have repeated encounters gave her hope. Since she couldn't communicate through language, she wanted to show them with her body that she was willing. She was willing to populate their entire planet if only they would keep filling her in this way.

But even as she kept silently pleading with them, a slow, menacing despair began to creep over Emilie. The pleasure was beginning to subside. She knew that her body was exhausted, but her mind wanted to go on. Yet she knew that she could not glean any more pleasure from the experience than she already had. As the o.r.g.a.s.ms faded, they were replaced by a dull sense of emptiness. They had expelled the contents of her womb. It would soon be over.

Another substance was being released, and Emilie could feel herself drifting off to sleep. She halfheartedly struggled against it, but the desire was too powerful to resist. She tried one last time to communicate with them before she finally lost consciousness.

Emilie came to slowly and reluctantly. She made several attempts to open her eyes, blinking them shut again repeatedly against the sharp, bright lights. Hope filled her as she struggled to gain her vision and confirm the meaning of the bright lights. Had her attempt to communicate with them succeeded, and her wish to remain with them been granted?

She fought to contain her sudden anxiety as she waited for her eyes to work. She squinted as they slowly became adjusted to the light. Her vision returned quickly once the initial shock of light had been absorbed, and she scanned the room she was in quickly, searching for signs of them. But the disappointment was already upon her before she fully recognized her surroundings. Although she was in an unfamiliar place, it was in a familiar realm. She was no longer with them.

She realized gradually that she was in a hospital room. She tried to sit but realized that she was being restrained. Something held her arms to the bed!

Before Emilie could so much as open her mouth, there was a nurse at her side, already quieting her before she had uttered a sound.

"Where am I?" she asked. "Why am I tied to the bed?" There were so many questions that Emilie needed answered.

"Everything is going to be fine," said the nurse. "The doctor will be here in a moment."

Emilie struggled against her restraints. She wanted to touch her abdomen, to see if the little bubble had gone. "Is it out?" she asked, her voice rising.

But the nurse was intent on keeping her calm. "The doctor will be here in a moment," she kept saying to Emilie. Her evasiveness, combined with her constant efforts to quiet Emilie, only served to increase Emilie's tension. She was quickly becoming hysterical. She turned her head this way and that, looking around frantically for a clue to what was happening.

Movement just outside the doorway caught her eye, and Emilie noticed that there were several people right outside her door, talking. It was difficult for her to see who they were because of a curtain that was partially blocking her view, but she could just barely make out David talking to someone in a white jacket. The doctor?

She watched David's face anxiously, trying to decipher his words as he spoke. She was afraid to call out to him. He looked pale, and when he finally turned and met Emilie's eyes, she saw that there was an expression in his that she had never seen before. He looked at her as if she were something abominable. Emilie stared back at him in silent alarm, frozen with mortification.

"Please," she whispered, turning back to the nurse. "Please help me."

"Shhh," the nurse said soothingly, patting Emilie's hand. "It's going to be okay. The doctor will be here any second."

And just then a woman in a white coat turned the corner into the room, followed by a man who looked vaguely familiar but who Emilie could not place. Last to enter was David, who remained several steps behind the others, as if he were afraid. He refused to look directly at Emilie.

"How are you feeling, Emilie?" the woman asked, but she resumed speaking before Emilie could answer. "I'm Doctor Rozzi, and this is Doctor Meade from the clinic." She indicated the man who came in with her. "Do you remember what happened?"

Emilie looked at David. She wished he wasn't there. She struggled to remember the questions she had wanted to ask a moment ago. "I...I'm not sure what happened," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Why am I here? Why are my hands tied to the bed?"

"That is only a precautionary measure," Dr. Rozzi a.s.sured her. "We wanted to make sure that you didn't hurt yourself."

"Hurt myself?" Emilie looked at the doctor, stunned. "Why would I hurt myself?"

"Do you remember what happened this morning?" the doctor asked her again, but she removed the restraints from Emilie's hands as she spoke.

Emilie brought her hands to her chest self-consciously. She remembered everything except how she came to be in the hospital, but she was not about to discuss it with these doctors or David, so she shook her head in the negative. "Please just tell me why I'm here," she said. She sat back in her bed, suddenly calm although a nagging sense of something horrific churned painfully in the pit of her stomach.

"Do you remember visiting the clinic?" Dr. Rozzi asked her in an exaggeratedly patient tone.