TLC; We're not barbarians

The frame exited the heated area, and small spray jets began applying an oily solution across his body again, in a sparing quantity

“What now?”

“We’re oiling and buffing your skin to remove dead cells, even tough lads like you need a little tlc every now and then”

“Your obsession with my appearance is excessive, I don’t need to look like a body builder”

“I told you we mean you no harm and you won’t, the solution is clear so the shine will match your natural pale skintone while still accentuating your muscles”

“Whose benefit is that for?”

“All yours, of course; and any prospective buyers. Our investors also have rights to purchase stock as their own personal property”

“Oh good, full blown sex traffiking” sighed Matt sarcastically; before another set of spinning brushes landed on him all at once; leavingly only his head visible while they pivoted around him to cover every part of his body at speed.

Microfibre covered plates began to converge on him, buffing the oil into his major muscles. His pecs, back, abs, glutes and quads all got the treatment. It felt quite like a picnic compared with the rough scrubbing he’d had earlier.

“That was very therapeutic”

“Last stop earth-man”

A stamp the size of an iPhone lowered behind him, he couldn’t see it though, descending to the small of his back. It plunged into it tattooing a QR code onto it.

“Ouch – Did you just trampstamp me?”

“Yes, a code has been printed on your back. This will help us monitor you when there are thousands more of you in the colony”

Matt looked exasperated. It was clear this was not going to be your quick up and down abduction.