Day 8 - Alien Abduction/Milking - Scooby Doo

“Hello?” Velma called out into the darkness. “If this is a prank, it’s gone on too long to be funny!”

While it was so dark around her that it was impossible to tell where sleep and waking had established their boundary, at some point she had simply slipped through from one of the other without fully realizing. It was like a coming into being. A more full feeling in her hands and feet, the various itches and grumblings and little indignities of actually living in the space you were occupying. The feeling of fabric against her skin. Reality was the little spaces between everything. It was the scratch of her eyes after not enough sleep - or disrupted sleep.

She felt like she was floating, and it was hard to say she wasn’t. The dark around her was so black she couldn’t see her hand when she brought her fingertip to her forehead. The silence so deep and damp that even the ringing in her ears had trouble penetrating it. The air was neither cold nor hot, there seemed to be no floor under her feet. There didn’t even seem to be a direction that was up, other than the one her head naturally pointed. But there was no downward pull, no pull in any direction. If she kicked her feet, she seemed to be off the ground. She’d heard of sensory deprivation tanks, the kind where you floated on your back in water at a warm enough temperature to seem like it wasn’t there. But there was no splashing if she moved. No warm or cold. It seemed like her body heat couldn’t build under her sweater, nor could it escape through her skirt. If she hadn’t been able to very literally pinch herself or move her glasses around on her face and feel the oily pinch of their bridge, it really might have been impossible to say this wasn’t an especially vivid dream.

And how long she’d been like this, she didn’t know. If sleep happened a little at a time, then a lot all at once, waking happened only by the things you allowed to flow in. Daylight, sound, the clog of one nostril or another, the numbness of a limb slept on. Without sensory datum, waking had simply happened. Neither slowly nor quickly, perhaps even not at all. At what point she had gone from dozing in her hotel room in New Mexico to wherever and however she was now - only the forces that had brought her here would know.

In the distance, a sound started. She might have missed it if not for how impenetrable the silence had been before. A sort of soft hum, like heavy machinery at a great distance. Velma felt the sensation of moving without any actual direction or feeling. A gut-deep shifting that turned into an inner-ear swirling. Immediate motion sickness.

At the same time, there was a pinpoint of light. It flickered off every few seconds and then on again. There was a real wonder in her mind if she wasn’t going a little nutty, but the longer she waited, the brighter it seemed to get every time it flicked on again. Velma made an effort to look down and around as it did. At first, she thought she might have just wanted to imagine that her hands and her body was growing more visible with each successive flash, but it became undeniable. The light was growing rounder, like a slowly expanding ball in front of her. And each time it did, it became brighter. Shadows started to dance around in it. Little floating specks like swimmers in a pool, viewed from above.

It was growing brighter still, very quickly becoming too bright. Velma had to squint and hold her hand in front of her eyes, closing them wasn’t enough. Each time it flashed now was too much, burning red behind her eyelids like she had her face to the summer sun. She could still see the little shadows, but they too were growing bigger, taking on more human shapes.

Her brain put it together slowly. Each time the light went off, the hum and the sense of motion came back. Then it would flash back on brighter and closer. It wasn’t moving, she was. Being slid or pushed slowly toward it, the shadows in the pool people or things closer to the source. Actually, the more she looked, the less it seemed like the shadows in front of her were people. She was pretty sure she could see one in the distinct shape of a dresser, another a car, one almost like a housecat.

Velma turned, something that required a lot of effort. She really did seem to be floating, and that meant there was nothing to push off of. It was an effort of kicking and swinging her arms like she was trying to swim, but even water pushed back. After a few seconds of it, she was as much sideways as she was facing backward. And her shoulders and neck hurt a whole lot for it. But it shielded her from the light somewhat, and it gave her a look behind her. In the shadow cast by her own body, she could see a copy of whatever ‘container’ she was in behind her, and one behind that and behind that and on. A saguaro cactus was floating placidly inside of what looked like a nixie tube, root structure like a downward-facing blade floating in some kind of mostly-clear fluid, stray bits of soil and detritus flowing around it like a debris cloud. In the tube behind it, vaguely visible around the floating plant, she could make out a man still sleeping in nothing but his boxers.

“Hey!” She tried to call, suddenly hyper-aware of the fluid she was also floating in, but finding it didn’t impact her breathing or speaking at all so long as she didn’t think about it. Her brain kept trying to assert some kind of taste to it, but it seemed felt no different from floating in air itself.

She called out a few times, but the man didn’t answer. If anybody could hear her, it wouldn’t be somebody in another one of the tubes she was in.

At this point, she still had to assume this was all part of some elaborate setup or scare tactic. She - and the rest of the gang - were no strangers to elaborate scare tactics, performances, and even assaults and kidnappings to try to keep them from getting to the root of some local problem. Honestly, while the presentation of this one was above and beyond, they had yet to make any kind of violent or terrifying argument for why the gang should stop looking into the supposed abductions at the local farm. Especially considering that the only abductions to this point had supposedly been cows, the ‘aliens’ suddenly switching to snatching her up seemed more like an indicator they were poking their noses closer to the truth.

The steady hum-light-dark-hum pattern became almost melodic, even though the light only became more intense with each passing go-around. Before long, it was bright enough to hurt Velma’s eyes, even turned away. The cactus behind her became so illuminated around her shadow that it seemed almost to become see-through. She held out her hand in curiosity, and the next time the light shone she could see the orange and pink translucence of it like she had a flashlight pressed directly on the other side. Even down to the bones, the sight of the little ridges of each phalange so distinct and noticeable that it made her squirm slightly. Whoever this was, they must have had access to a truly excessive amount of both money and technology lying around - perhaps an electrical facility? And they clearly weren’t worried about hurting people - since light like this could have easily blinded somebody, let alone burned them. Though that only made her wonder why they weren’t more straightforward about harm, just leading with hurting her or even killing her. Perhaps they figured that nine parts presentation one part pain would make for a more effective deterrent? They clearly hadn’t been doing this long if that was the case.

Finally, she reached a point where the light shone directly on her. Velma faced away and squeezed her eyes shut and still felt like she was going to go blind. It was so bright around her that she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t be able to see right through her own stomach if she were to lift her shirt. For a second, Velma wondered if it really was all for intimidation. The cost of running that kind of light, even for a few seconds, would have been astronomical. But it didn’t feel warm. Either whatever casing she was in had her so thoroughly isolated - which she doubted - or there was some other trickery going on.

Then, something strange happened. The light dimmed slowly until it got low enough she could open her eyes again. Velma’s skin crawled. At the same time the light dimmed, it seemed almost to get closer. Narrowing like an eye and focusing on her, looking her up and down. It brought goosebumps up on her skin, a strong feeling like she was being watched. Of course, she was, and this was probably all part of the show, but still.

The light flashed green for a moment, then shut off.

Suddenly, she was moving a lot more rapidly. She could feel herself being yanked to her left - though at this point this was closer to below her feet and behind her. It would have been her left if she were fully upright and facing forward, had been her left at some point. Wherever she was going, she was moving there far faster than she’d taken her plodding little route along the examination belt. Out of the corner of her eye, Velma watched the light shine on the cactus and flash right back off again. She wanted badly to see how it reacted to the man behind the cactus, but something cut off her vision. Either she quickly veered around some corner or some doorway shut or something. Suddenly the light was gone, and she was back in the total blackness of before. Though always with the same sense of moving.

It didn’t actually ever feel like she stopped, but at some point a thin green slit started to appear out of the corner of her eye. Velma once again tried to swim, managing to **** the slit into the center of the vision though nearly driving herself upside-down in the process. She was going to have to figure out how to actually navigate this place, but she assumed she wouldn’t be here long enough to ever properly figure things out. However, as she oriented, the feeling of movement seemed to go away at least somewhat. She could feel some sense of there being a down, made more explicit by her body being the wrong orientation to it.

The slit opened slowly, expanding outward and outward. Velma was ready for little green men or big grey ones, she expected quality costumes considering the lightshow and all of the presentation up to this point, but you could never be sure. There were plenty of things they investigated where the magic of the haunted castle with its trick corridors and trapdoors quickly gave way to some guy in a sheet.

It wasn’t any of that, though. As the slit opened wider, Velma was looking into a truly alien control room of some kind. All of the buttons and levers and knobs seemed scattered around the floor or up on the ceiling, with the walls entirely bare of panels or shelves or ornamentation. The light came from a dim bedroom pallor of green globes coming from at least the rear four corners of the room, and she assumed the front four as well, considering how the shadows were cast in all directions. The room itself was squat, maybe no more than six feet tall, but almost as wide as a ballroom.

And the creatures, there were at least four of them, though the darkness of the room meant that she couldn’t fully tell. Each of them was low and wide, like a four-legged animal but with a great many more than that. On the nearest one, Velma could make out at least eight limbs, each a few feet long and ending in a foot with an opposable thumb, each starting from a high-rising, brown fuzz-covered shoulder that made their backs bumpy as chocolate bars. They had no tails that she could see. Their heads were long and narrow, though clearly with defined jaws. Her first comparison would have been some mixture between a cow and a spider, but their eyes - little black and blue and green blobs - looked at her with fully sapient-seeming alertness. They operated and manipulated the buttons underneath them with ease, using their abundant handlike feet. When one of them reached up to the ceiling to press something there, it rose with exactly half of its legs, arching itself into a semicircle like a centipede.

Whatever it pressed seemed to assert some gravity over her, as Velma found herself slowly floating upright. She couldn’t help stare at them, though it wasn’t like there was anything else to look at.

“Woah,” Velma muttered. “Those are some crazy good costumes!”

The people behind the glass didn’t respond, looking her over and continuing to work with their hands at various inscrutable controls. She had to assume they didn’t actually do anything - working in those outfits just wasn’t realistic if it was remotely complex. Velma couldn’t help thinking of monkeys, watching the things in the little green room reaching out with a forelimb to pull a lever and then immediately extending a hindleg to a button while balancing on their middle appendages. The level of articulation in the costumes alone was beyond what she would have expected. Let alone how well they fit and how naturally the faces moved.

“Seriously, you guys could make a killing putting on shows.” Velma continued. “I mean, Jinkies, those have to be animatronics, right?”

Once more, the creatures didn’t respond, at least not in any way she could handle. They way they were all turned to look at her, and the way they seemed to squint and blink at her at least made her feel like they could hear her. But when they turned to ‘talk’ to each other, the sound that came out was a gurgling, spitty, low sound. All throat and palate. Somewhere between somebody loudly slurping noodles and a drain unclogging. One of them yawned, or at least opened its mouth fully before closing it again. She could make out multiple flat rows of black teeth, but no tongue.

“I’m sure whatever reason you’re trying to scare people off of the ranch will make you a bunch of money, but work like this-” Velma stopped herself.

She didn’t believe in aliens. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She believed in other life in the universe, but in the sense that there was almost certainly bacteria and flora in the great expanse of things. At the very least, there had been enough fakery in her life to disabuse the notion of alien visitors to Earth. Though, working on the base assumption that this was one of those frauds, it was the best one she’d seen by far. The problem was that she was becoming less sure of that by the minute. Perhaps she wasn’t immune to good presentation.

“Uhhhh uhhhh.” One of the creatures on the other end spoke, extending its head and pointing it toward her, giving her an even better show of the lack of tongue and the great yawning void of a throat that seemed to shoot straight down into a hollow stomach. “Muh muh.”

Each movement of its jaw made its mouth flap like a puppet’s. Velma wasn’t sure at this point if that made her lean more or less toward fakery. It stopped trying to talk to her and went back to the slurping, gurgly speech it had exchanged before.

“Muh. Muh.” It repeated, voice completely animal in a way that almost made her skin crawl. Velma truly wasn’t sure if it was trying to mimic human speech or not.

She realized there was a screen on the far end of the control room, behind the creatures. It was no wonder she’d missed it for so long, the spectrum of colors present seemed to be a mixture of blacks and greens right at the spectrum of being indistinguishable from each other. Velma only picked it out now because her eyes were adjusting to the room’s light, giving her a sense of some of the little differences in fur hue between the creatures. The screen was dominated by quickly-scrolling datum of some kind, a hodge-podge of squiggles and alien language that seemed too consistent to be random. Then half of it was replaced by a roughly human-like outline, complete with little curves for a bosom and hips. The other half of the screen turned into some kind of drop-down. Images flashed quickly. Alien shapes, a coffee table, a spruce tree…

It settled on a cow, and then both the cow and the vaguely woman-shaped outline increased in size until they dominated the screen. A little scroll of alien information passed between them, followed by a nearly-full bar.

“Excuse me,” Velma was a lot less confident than she had been. “I’m closer to a cow than a piece of furniture, sure, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Muh. Mlk.” The sound was like a gag. “Mulk. Mulkuh.”

“Mulk?” Velma asked, then felt stupid for asking a second later. “Oh no. You’re mistaken.”

Something changed about the gel she was floating in. Velma felt it first as a slight increase in difficulty breathing, but then really felt it as an increased firmness. Her movements felt slower and heavier, like she was fighting resistance even while she still wasn’t really experiencing gravity. For the first time, she really worried that they might hurt her - though by accident and not as some kind of scheme. But then the gel relaxed as quickly as it had hardened. But it was hard to ignore the change in taste. A strange, acrid lingering on the tongue, like she’d gotten perfume in her mouth.

Her clothes started going to strings and strands. At first she saw just a pair of tendrils extending out from her, but then noticed the whole of her sweater seeming to writhe and squirm like living eels. Each ripple bringing them out further away from her body. As they started to wick away and shrink down, almost as if they melted faster they further away they got from her, Velma swung her hands to cover herself, knocking the ropey cloud of her clothes wildly around the tank. Within a minute, the cloud was little more than an orange and red shimmer in the tank around her, a stray thread here and there. She was completely naked, though fortunately it hadn’t touched her glasses.

“Muh. Muh.” One of the creatures spat to another, gesturing toward her.

As they pulled another one of their levers, there was a click and rattle. Velma’s eyes shot up as she watched a little black probe arm descending from the top of her tube. It ambulated down slowly, what looked like black beads lined one after the other in a clear sleeve, with a little star-shaped head on the end. It seemed fully articulate, moving straight, swaying, even curling on itself as if at will. The head of it stopped a few inches from her nose and Velma flinched back from it without meaning to.

In the observation room, the computer screen changed. A dim but easily readable video feed from the thing’s tip. A wonky close-up of her face, blown up as if in a fish-eye lens. Each of her freckles seemingly as large as her eyes, the little curtain of brunette bangs as distant as the top of the tube. She watched herself squirming and flinching on a delay. The version of her in the video looked perhaps more scared than she actually was.

The camera panned down, past her neck and collarbone to the curve of one of her breasts. Velma clapped her hands over her chest before it could reach her nipples. It floated close to her skin, blowing up each freckle of her pale flesh in higher definition than she’d ever wanted any part of herself. When it bumped against her hand, she yelped. A quick but noticeable shock passed through her, making her whole arm tense at once. She sulkily pulled her hand away, taking the hint. The camera panned slowly over the wide pink expanse of her areola, scanning her nipple for a moment. Velma watched the screen change, appearing as if the probe arm was actually looking under her skin. She saw the white of fatty tissue and the red of muscle in dim colors on the screen.

“Muh. Muh!” One of the creatures pointed at the screen and drooled. The observation room was suddenly a hive of activity; levers pulled, buttons pressed, figures taken.

A second observation snaked down as the first one pulled back from her chest. Velma watched the tip of it grow, expanding out and morphing as if by magic until it formed a cone at the end of the arm. When the new one came down to its level, they were both tipped with the same empty cone shape. Velma dropped her hands back over her breasts, and got another quick shock for it. This one was strong enough to make her hands flinch down to her stomach, and the probe arms darted in before she could get them back up. She whimpered as she felt the cones suck airtight around her nipples, first enough to pull them stiff, then enough to pull some of the soft skin around them up into the cones. The feeling was a constant, somewhat uncomfortable squeezing and pressure, one which only seemed to make them more sensitive with each passing moment.

“I don’t have any!” She yelped in protest. “Stop!”

The pressure grew and grew until it seemed unbearable, then released. Then it started again. Each cup sucked and sucked until her nipples were red with strain and then let off, though even when it relaxed, Velma could feel them swelling. She reached out to try to pull at one of the arms, but got another little zap.

Behind the glass, they seemed to grasp her displeasure. Or, at least, they had expected some kind of resistance. A moment after the zap, the gel around Velma changed once more. Sweetening until it was nearly fruity, tasting the way a fake-lemon cleaner smelled. Then it shifted again, remaining sweet but taking on the thick, sweaty, cathouse smell of sex. Velma almost gagged it was so strong. It didn’t seem to interfere with the sweetness at all, either. They mixed. A harsh, sugary sweaty, intimate smell and taste. Like a mouthful of flavored lube, as well as a mouthful of whatever bodily organ it had been applied to.

And quite quickly, Velma’s resistance faded. Her eyes drooped. It was a semi-sleepy, semi-needy feeling. Almost like a particularly horny high. She stopped squirming as the intense pressure and pulling at her nipples became a pleasant, tingling, exciting thing. They only seemed to grow more sensitive. Between her legs, there was a great desire to be touched. But when she tried to move her hands down, she found she couldn’t really motivate them to go.

Her eyes lazily glanced into the control room in time to see another camera point of view on the computer screen. Snaking up through the bottom of the tank, past her feet and up around her round thighs. Velma watched as her thick brunette pubes suddenly filled the screen, then the monitor moved down toward the excited, visibly wet pink skin buried within.

“Huuh.” Velma tried to object to the probe, which was clearly getting closer, but found her tongue heavy. At the same time, she questioned why she would have objected to being penetrated.

The probe slipped in without a real pleasure or sense of presence, the tube was thin enough to almost not even register except when the tip ground against her walls as it snaked its way inside. Velma watched with a sort of bemusement at the pink and red bloomings of her own insides moving past the snaking probe, reaching increasingly deep up into her guts. Then it came to a winking, bright-red barrier with a small hole at its center. It was flexing and clenching, almost certainly the same way as the rest of her pussy and her body, as if it wanted very badly to be touched. Very slowly and very gently, the probe slid itself against the small hole and pressed softly.

Velma swallowed heavily, even not pushing inside, just the feeling of the probe being there was incredibly intense. It made her stomach do little flips and jumps. As if that was somewhere things weren’t supposed to be, and even the suggestion of the probe entering was messing with her body.

A second after the camera shut off, returning the computer screen to the unflattering comparison, she felt the probe stiffen, becoming an almost perfectly straight line from the bottom of the tank to the tender spot inside of her the probe was pressing.

Suddenly, the tip of the probe started firing.

The liquid coming out of the tip was hot and thick, Velma wasn’t sure what it was, but she was pretty sure what it was supposed to imitate. She squealed, as much as was possible around her lethargic tongue and through a gel-filled throat. It came out as a sort of pleased gurgle. Each hot, carefully-aimed jet made her legs and hips twitch, her fingers and toes curling into happily gnarled shapes. The feeling was almost like an orgasm itself, though Velma was pretty sure she wasn’t cumming. Having her womb directly pumped full, a simulated breeding if not a real one, made a blast of blurring, warm, fuzzy bliss pass over her. From the top of her head down into her legs. Like she was lazing in her blankets in a sunbeam with a pleasantly full belly. Even more than an orgasm, it felt almost like a complete peacefulness.

Then she came. Velma felt it as a halt and a shudder. A crackle from her nipples down to her groin, then up to her brain. The pleasant, squirming, lethargic feeling of relaxation turning into a fumbling, downhill race of ecstasy and shivering. Velma moaned and whined as best she could into the gel, managing to shake her glasses askew as her head tried to jerk in the fluid around her. And as she rode it, each successive pull on her nipples seemed to draw more energy up out of her groin and into her body, passing through the heat in her womb on the way. It spread the warmth with the pleasure, turning the crackles and zaps into rushes and drops. Immersing her whole body slowly in quivering, warm, lazy, tingles. If she could have drooled, she probably would have been.

As it was passing, Velma could feel the probe in her cunt suctioning up the load it had deposited. It didn’t diminish the warmth, in fact, wherever its insemination had touched, a near-burning desire now remained. Whether the probe intended to recycle its contents, give her new ones, or even if they intended to outright fuck her at some point, all three of those sounded great at the moment.

Velma realized dully that milk was flowing from her breasts. She didn’t even really process it at first, seeing the black beads of the bottom probes occasionally turning white like pearls in their casing. But she quickly realized it wasn’t a small amount coming. Each suck of the probe drawing what looked like at least a shotglasses’ worth. Over and over. Potentially the whole time she had been cumming, and now well after she’d stopped. Glancing in the observation chamber, she could see a slowly-filling bottle, at least a cup’s worth now.

“Muh?” She asked, blinking slowly.

One of the creatures leaned forward to taste it with a straw, gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up to his comrades, and then pulled a lever. The examination room window slammed shut, though not before Velma could see the bar on the computer comparison fill up a little more. A moment later, the probe started pumping directly into her womb again, and she forgot all about it.

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