Authors: Fiona Knightingale
I found something to love in our little set-up. Maybe it was the simplicity of it, maybe it was the fact that we still hadn’t committed to anything big or life-changing, so it all felt safe. But more than anything, I knew that I finally felt complete. I had spent so long believing that my life could never be rebuilt after a tragedy like the one that had struck me, and Tate had believed the same thing. It had taken us finding each other to prove that there was always a second chance at a good start. And that was all I needed.
It was about two months later that simple went out the window. Tate came over and knew something was amiss from the look on my face. My features twisted in apprehension as he gave me a concerned look. Tears welled up in my eyes as I held up the positive pregnancy test I had been clutching closely to my side. No words were needed and my anxiety turned to elation as he pulled me close and nuzzled his scruff into my neck. I clenched him and pulled him inside to take me yet again.
THE END
All that Amy really learned about life in her 30 years of continual disappointment was that life is lonely. Her teens were spent chasing after unrequited love. Her twenties filled with desperation and rash decisions, all culminating in humiliation and loveless sex. They say the thirties are even worse—that’s when you discover that, in addition to filtering out liars and manipulators, you must also be on guard against people who are confused. People who think they love you but only wind up wasting three years of your life on a silly assumption.
Amy sighed, downing sweet tea like it was alcohol. She couldn’t even drink to feel better about the great tragedy of life. Every bad one night stand she had, ended with one too many drinks. Alcohol tasted like empty love. At least sweet tea always left her feeling better. Sweetness was her weakness. Not only was a “Sweet Man” hard to resist on those lonely weekends; but sweet snacks were also the everlasting temptation.
She put on fifty pounds over the past two year, reclassifying herself as a Big Beautiful Woman with curves. She oftentimes felt embarrassed about the extra weight gain, and couldn’t help but think back to her early twenties when she had that skinny figure that always turned heads.
But where did that get her, anyway? A bunch of shallow men that just wanted to take her to bed. At least big beautiful women aren’t preyed upon as often, she figured.
Most assholes of the world leave us alone. They can’t stand the sight of us just like we can’t stand the sight of them. I don’t care what people think anymore. I would rather meet a decent man who loved me—all of me—then spend one more day trying to train myself my body to meet some asshole’s high standards.
If love existed, it would find her. If it didn’t, then Amy was ready to call it quits. Love on your own terms is all anyone ever wants. And when she finally turned 30, she accepted it.
I have high standards. And if all men everywhere are that shallow, I’ll just as soon find the perfect man in heaven.
Well, heaven never called. But little did Amy know that the day after her 30
th
birthday, on June 18, her life would change and take a turn for the worst. Yes, it turns out there are worse things than loneliness.
Amy couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned until she scooted over towards the clock.
Only 5 AM. I don’t have to get up for another five hours. Great…now what am I going to do?
Like any lonely woman, she began pleasuring herself, figuring that a quick endorphin rush could be just what she needed to fall back asleep with a vengeance. However, she put on such a show that night—fingers, dildos and vibrators oh my—that she inadvertently called some very unsolicited attention to herself.
A spaceship hovered in the sky, not 400 yards from Amy’s bedroom ceiling. There was no sound as the engine was highly advanced and the metal made from magnesium. The ship wasn’t huge, as the Chubalahan species of Pisces 9 never liked to draw attention to themselves. They never respected their little green genetic cousins, the Arcturians who were always so damn flamboyant with their ships, their customized green skins, and their insistence on programming their eyes to be six times as big as necessary. They seemed to think that dealing with humans was all about being “alpha” and domineering.
The Chubalahan species took a more measured approach. They were not afraid of humans, nor did they consider them highly advanced. No species did, not really; human beings had only recently evolved into self-aware creatures and were still struggling with crude personality traits.
The Chubalahans were practical. When it was time to meet their quota for experimentation programs, they took only the “fringe human species” that seemed to be the least ingratiated into society. They also didn’t have the vicious streak of other aliens like the Pleiadeans. They treated their prisoners with the latest technology in leisure and comfort.
Prince Radiant of the Chubalahans was on deck for the expedition, crossing off names and just arrived at the small town of Woodrin in Ecan County. He himself chose Amy out of the possible 10,000 women in the town. Most of the other women had families and would probably raise a stink about alien kidnappings if they were sloppy. A being like Amy, already solitary and seemingly isolated from society, was a safe choice.
The fact that she was already pleasuring herself also indicated high levels of fertility, which certainly made the tests easier on the Chubalahans.
“All right,” the Prince said tiredly, speaking to a cadet. Materialize her up. We’ll start the test at 0800 hours.”
“Just the human or the battle tank she is attached to?”
“It’s called a bed, cadet,” the prince said with a head shake. “Do your homework once in a while. It’s not a tank.”
“Humans sleep on these beds? It seems like a waste of space.”
“You will find, my good friend, that humans waste plenty of space with all sorts of irrational products and memorabilia. It’s a good indication that they’re bored. They ought to thank us for giving them something to worry about.”
The cadet entered Amy’s coordinates and beamed her up instantly, watching her in curiosity as she writhed on the floor, wearing only black shorts and a pink blouse.
“What the hell?” Amy screamed, quickly removing her hand from her pants and trying to look inconspicuous. “Oh no, am I dreaming?”
“Yes, this is all a dream,” the cadet said lazily—that’s what they all say.
The Prince watched Amy become adjusted to her environment in smiling curiosity. She couldn’t see him from the observation chamber. He took down some notes. He noticed that even in a foreign environment she seemed self-conscious about her body. She covered her arms and crossed her legs, disallowing the cadet to look at her milky white thighs.
Her freckled face and red hair was delightful, he admitted. She seemed to be atypical in that she did not have an accumulation of old makeup products, nor any dyed hair strands as most females in their 30s did.
“It feels so real,” Amy said, looking around the spaceship. Suddenly, she put her arm out and pinched herself. “Ow!”
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to take control of my dream. Sometimes if I pinch myself, I can take power over my dream and start controlling the world.”
“I see. What a strange interpretation of the world your species has.”
“Why am I even talking to you,” Amy said with a sneer. “You’re just my subconscious anyway.”
“Oookay.”
“I know that because you’re speaking English. If you were real, you would be speaking some alien language, not English.”
“Actually, that’s usually only in the movies. In reality, we use what is called a thought-to-speech converter, which auto-detects the language of our visitor and then converts thought signals to motor functions.”
“So you’re actually speaking…?”
“Chubalahan.”
“I see. This is a strange dream for me to be having. Oh well, summoning Brad Pitt now…” She closed her eyes and concentrated.
“What are you doing?” Prince Radiant asked, walking into full view and approaching the cadet.
“Whoah, there’s another of you? Cute trick, but I really want to summon a celebrity…”
“This isn’t a dream.”
“Riiight, and you just randomly kidnapped me from my bed for no apparent reason.”
“There is a reason, actually,” the Prince said coming out of the chamber and joining them on the deck. He struck Amy as a very handsome being, if not anything close to human. He was still humanoid, with strong masculine features and a chiseled face of perfection. His skin was blue but his muscular structure was much the same. He was also slightly larger than a man, standing eight feet tall and with larger mass in his muscles. He wore a royal costume, befitting of a prince. He wore colors of purple and gold, regal colors that spoke to his high ranking position. His belt buckle was shining with gold, it being a an object of great merit, earned in wartime.
“Once every ten years, we return to earth and take one woman for our Comprehensive Variable Breeding Program.”
“What?”
“Compre-”
“I heard you. Breeding program? Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes. We fertilize your eggs and impregnate you. The odds of us choosing you are actually quite astronomical. You should feel honored.”
“Honored? Is it an honor to be forced to breed without consent?”
“But…” the Prince said with arched eyebrows, “All females want to breed.”
“Says who?!”
“It’s evolutionary. You all have the biological instinct to procreate. Once you find a genetically superior male, your fertility levels increase and you reproduce. I thought at the age of 30 you already knew these basic facts.”
“Umm,” Amy said angrily, “I know about it. But I think you have a totally offensive viewpoint. I’m actually really annoyed at my own subconscious right now for dreaming this.”
“This isn’t a dream. Please prepare for an evaluation.”
“A what?!” she said, backing away from the Prince.
“It’s a routine medical examination. We will take samples and ensure you are ready for maximum state of arousal and impregnation.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning…we will help you do what you were already doing before we beamed you up here.”
“What I was….” Amy blushed, but quickly shook off her embarrassment. She crinkled her brow. “I was NOT doing anything, for your information. I’m a good girl.”
“What does ‘good’ have to do with it?”
“Whatever you thought you saw was not true. So bzzzt! End of dream. I want to relocate to San Diego now.” She folded her arms and did a double blink.
“This isn’t magic, you know. You’re actually a prisoner of the Chubalahan Riger 1500 Spacecraft.”
“Oh really?” she asked, still playing along with her annoyance of a nightmare. “So you just go around imprisoning women and making them breed?”
“It’s a lottery. The women are usually very happy to cooperate. They all want babies anyway.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. Your fertility levels were off the charts. That’s why we picked you up on our system in the first place.”
“Fine, I’ll play along,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Just because a woman wants to have children doesn’t mean she is a slave to any alien that flies by. She has a criteria in order to filter out men she doesn’t want.”
“Well, yes,” the prince said, a bit confused. “Genetically superior specimens. Attractive men. Rich men. Confident men. We’ve done all the research.”
“And love.”
“Love?”
“Yes. She has to really like him. Admire him. And then want to please him. Love is missing from your equation.”
“Love has nothing to do with it,” the Prince said firmly. “Love is an emotion. Irrational response to changing hormones in the body.”
“Well, not to us. Love is the reason we are all alive. Love lifts us up where we belong. Love makes everything worth doing.”
The Prince sighed. “Look, are you going to cooperate?”
“No, no I won’t. So just kill me or drop me back off on earth. Because I do not give you my consent.”
“Consent?”
The cadet shrugged.
“Good Gravity,” the Prince sighed. “All these malfunctioning human beings. Their strange rules and customs. Breeding is so much easier on our planet.”
“I have an idea, Prince Radiant,” the cadet said.
“What?”
“Well the manual said that if the female objects, she may just need to be stimulated properly. This ‘love’ she speaks of, may merely be emotional and physical stimulation in order to increase lubrication in the vagina.”