Teleported away, and now you are too

Before your panic can truly set in, you feel a tingling sensation. It starts at the base of your spine but soon surrounds your entire body, and your hair almost stands on end.

"What the—" hell, you were going to say, but before you can finish the thought, the room around you dissolves like a cheap PowerPoint transition. It is instantly replaced by another, different room.

Your nipples perk up against the cooler air. This room is smaller, and it doesn't look much like a habitat. There's a couple of tables dressed like they would be for dinner at a restaurant. You're standing on a stage-like platform, next to a large four-poster bed.

Toby is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking every bit as stupefied as you. When he sees you, he embraces you. "Thank God, Nina."

"What the fuck now?" you ask. Looking closer, you notice that Toby now wears a bright metal collar around his neck. You reach a hand up to your throat and feel its twin.

Toby shrugs. "Something new."

In the weeks or however long of your captivity, you've come to distrust and fear the new.

Part of the wall at the far end of the room opens. Keltraxans enter in pairs or triplets. They are nude, so you have no trouble seeing their genitalia. The Keltraxan females—you assume they are females—have massive breasts that are almost comically large on their skinny, sub-five-foot frames. Their vulvas appear less luscious than a human woman's, almost recessed, though for all you know they have a penis hiding somewhere too. The males—or at least, the aliens with visible penises—must be growers more than showers. Regardless of sex, all the aliens have a variety of green, grey, or deep blue skin and various colours of piercing eyes.

One of them approaches you on the stage. "Congratulations. We have been very pleased with your progress so far. You are being rewarded with the honour of performing for our select clientele." The Keltraxan is not speaking English, of course, yet you understand him without any problem. His voice sounds richer, deeper, less imposing than the anonymous boss of your habitat.

"Wait, what do you mean we'll be 'performing'?" Toby asks.

"Isn't it obvious?" The Keltraxan sweeps a hand, gesturing to the bed. "Our clientele pay dearly to observe the mating habits of lesser species up close."

"Lesser species? Why I'll show you 'lesser species' my ass …"

You stick out an arm, saying, "Wait, Toby, I don't think that's a good—"

But it's too late. He's already diving towards the Keltraxan, arms up and out to throttle the alien. The Keltraxan doesn't do anything. Doesn't have to. You hear a telltale zap, and Toby drops to the floor, hands around the collar at his neck, groaning in pain.

The Keltraxan says nothing to you two, turning instead to his audience. "As you can see, the zoo animals are quite harmless to us. They can only hurt each other, in so much as their species' mating practices can be quite … rough … at times. This pair in particular has a very active approach to breeding."

"If that's so, why is the female not yet gravid?" one of the female Keltraxans pipes up from the nearest table. "I've been following this pair since they arrived. Not a single litter—"

"—offspring, they're called offspring in this species—" her tablemate breaks in.

"—not a single offspring all this time. Are you sure they are compatible?"

Your host does not falter. "Of course they are. Allow me to reassure you that the zoo takes pride in finding only the finest specimens from each species it harvests. These two 'humans' are extremely compatible. However entertaining a pregnancy would be, we must defer to our Master Zookeepers in these matters. They and they alone decide when the time is ripe to breed each captive pair."

The Keltraxan female gives a little "humph" of dissatisfaction but otherwise says nothing.

The host turns back to the two of you. Toby has since recovered and regained his footing, looking still bellicose but at least more subdued. "Please take your place on the bed. As we eat dinner, our guests will take turns selecting copulatory techniques and positions from a booklet of human vernacular we have prepared for this occasion. You will enact each technique at our request."

"What?" Toby says, looking blankly at him.

You snort. All that blood flow to his lower half must not be great for his brain. "It's like sexual Simon Says."

"Oh. Ohhhh." He turns back to you. "Well, that doesn't sound too bad."

You look from the bed, to Toby, to the audience. Your sudden displacement has dampened the arousal that was just moments ago coursing through your entire body, but that arousal is now returning. You have to admit, the idea of doing it with Toby in front of the aliens—literally in front of them, not just to some gawking zoogoers—turns you on. And you have a feeling that if you refuse, then you'll just be treated to the shock collar … or worse.

"Mmmkay," you say, leading the way to the bed. "Might as well get this over with."

The guests start their dinner, and the host takes his place off to the side of the stage. After the first course is served, he selects one of the guests to choose how you and Toby should begin.