Twist the fire fighters

When McCoy woke up, someone - something - dragged him along the ground. He'd lost his coat and hat, and even his boots.

But he still had his mask on.

He was still wearing his mask.

He didn't know why.

His stomach flipped.

The dragger threw McCoy against something that felt hard and soft at once. Knocked the wind out of him. When he could breathe again, he looked left and right.

He saw Dylan and Nero. They'd been partially stripped, just like McCoy.

Others weren't so lucky.

One of the monsters ripped Ford's oxygen tank off his harness, and held it out of reach while another one of the creatures kept him from lunging at it. The monster tore the hose at the tank, pressed its cock to the end, and started pumping glowing green slime.

One of them let him rip his arm free, and yank the mask off. His cheeks were bulging, and he strained even harder to get away.

To run all the way to the edge of the park on a single lungful of air.

McCoy got up.

Strong hands held him down.

So he couldn't do anything but watch.

Watch as Ford finally ran out of air.

Watch as he opened his mouth.

Watch as one of the creatures rammed its dick into Ford's mouth.

And then McCoy turned his head away. Partially because he couldn't watch anymore.

Partially because he finally got it.

They're doing this on purpose. They want us to see. They're-

Something sour rose up in his throat.

-they're playing with their food.

The hands seized him again. And turned him around. So he could finally see what he was sitting against.

It was an egg.

Three dark ribs went up its sides, almost met at the top. Most of it was pale, translucent panels with faint green veins.

And it was big enough to fit a human.

The dark, silent mass of the crashed ship loomed behind it. Still pumping its verdant pollutant.

McCoy stared.

"No," he said.

He looked left, and right. They were just shoving Dylan and Nero into their own eggs. Before McCoy could run, strong hands grabbed him.

Commentary in the comments.