Follow His Orders

Begrudgingly, and not without reservations, Lois did as she was told. Brainiac switched on the great yellow lamp over top of her, and Lois felt a not-unpleasant warmth from the powerful bulb, a though she was standing in front of a sunlamp.

Lois was going to make a quip, but the alien cut her off. He rolled a metal stand over, from which hung a bag with some off-white liquid.

"I must attach an intravenous drip. This will provide materials your body will need for the procedure."

With practiced skill, he took a needle and fitted it into the inside of Lois' left arm, securing it there with tape. A thin tube from the bag was fitted to the needle in Lois' arm, and she watched as he let a little blood flow back into the mix, to ensure there were no bubbles. As skilled as a trained nurse.

"Now do not move. Your body needs to absorb the yellow light to catalyze the changes in your genetic material. Your questions will be answered presently."

The reporter said nothing. It was almost like a doctor's visit—Brainiac studiously ignored her as he quickly moved around the room, setting up pieces of equipment. After perhaps ten minutes Lois was feeling...good. The artificial light seemed to burn away through the alcoholic haze of what she had drunk earlier, and she found it difficult to not move. Her mind was racing, concentrating on her senses...the panting movement of the unseen women in the other beds, the smell of disinfectant and under that, sex; the slight hum and vibration as the equipment around her energized...

When Brainiac did turn his attention to her, with alien detachment. The green-skinned alien held a strange pair of scissors in his hand, the curved blades dark and glassy as obsidian.

"I must remove your clothing for the procedure. Remain still."

Lois thought of voicing a protest—to at least offer to remove her own clothes—but the alien moved too quickly, the strange tool slicing through the thin fabric of her shirt and top, snipping away at her thong...although he left the white cotton socks. He did not even remove the clothes entirely, letting the tatter and fragments lay on the table.

When he was done, Brainiac began to attach a series of electrodes to her, white sticky squares with rounded corners, thin wires leading back to the equipment...and the reporter quickly understood why as he attached one to each breast just above the nipple, and jut above the line of her pubic hair on her crotch.

Trying not to move her head, Lois followed his actions out of the corner of her eye, watching the screens come to life...and the image of herself appeared on small monitors, strangely outlined as the sensor relayed...something. Brainiac appeared to be satisfied.

When next he appeared, it was with a large syringe—as large as his forearm, filled with some off-white liquid. Lois struggled not to move, not sure where he thought he was putting that.

"The changes in your body will required substantial materials. This is the penultimate step. There will be some discomfort."

Brainiac did not hesitate or show any emotion as he spread her lips, and maneuvered the lubricated tip of the syringe into Lois' vagina. That was perhaps the worst of it, to her way of thinking: the indifference. There was nothing of lust or arousal in him, his actions were quick and methodical, enjoying nothing of her body. She might as well have been an animal being spayed by a vet—and she imagined that must be very much what this was like for the alien. Just another lower life form to experiment upon.

The liquid was warm...warm as blood...and it burned slightly as it filled her, as though it was slightly acidic. Wore, however, was the pressure. It built up inside of her as the syringe slowly but surely emptied. It seemed to last a long time, though she doubted it took much more than a minute. She lay back, trying not to think of the violation she was experiencing. Focusing on Maria, and the other women. Hoping that what she was doing was the right thing. Lois focused on her breathing, on the warm burn of the light on her skin, anything to take her out of the moment...and yet that seemed to just make her focus on his gloved hands, on the weight of the liquid a it filled her channel, of the subtle but unmistakable reactions of her body to the action happening below her waist.

"Your body's reactions are normal. They will facilitate absorption of the material." The alien's voice was dry, almost mechanical. A statement of fact, more than a reassurance. Colder and more emotionless than anything Lois had ever experienced...and it didn't help at all that her nipples had now grown erect beneath that burning yellow light, the hairs on her arms and legs standing on end.

When it was done, Lois felt painfully uncomfortable and bloated, like during a period. The reporter wasn't sure how he was going to keep the material from leaking out, but as he withdrew the empty syringe, she could still feel the tip lodged within her. A plug of some sort.

He turned and, discarding the syringe, dawned a heavy gown of some sort, and a mask with a visor of bluish glass. The alien stood over her, one hand on the lamp.

"Now, we will apply the catalyst. It is a form of radiation that will activate your altered DNA. It will not harm you, but you will experience physical changes. Previous subjects have regarded them as both pleasant and uncomfortable. Total exposure will not last more than 120 seconds. Please try not to move."

He pressed some switch on the light. And the world went red.