Unidentified Flying Object

April shuddered at the thought of deliberately blowing the beast. She thought back to three days earlier, although it seemed to have been much longer than that, when the whole ordeal started. Everyone had been in the Day Room, as they were now. The members of the small, four-woman research station were playing cards, the radar unit against the far wall doing its constant, never-ending twenty-four-hour a day sweep. It was the evening, the dinner dishes had been washed and put away. Just as Sarah had played a trump card to win the trick in play, the buzzer on the radar unit sounded. All four women looked over at the unit in dismay, and the buzzer sounded for several seconds before they responded to it. April Lemon, the base communicators officer (along with several other duties, on a small station such as this one, everyone filled multiple roles), got there first. Muting the alarm, she set there in her swivel chair, watching the green screen as the other three hovered over her. Finally, Sarah asked in general, "What do you think it is?"

"Don't know," Barbie LeGrande, the station commander replied. "There are no flights scheduled for the vicinity, are there?" she asked April for confirmation. The communications officer shook her head and the station commander said, "See if you can contact them over the radio."

April was already reaching for the microphone. She scooted her chair with rollers over to the radio set that was next to the radar unit and turned a knob and flipped a couple of switches. "This is research station Zulu-5 calling unidentified aircraft heading 240, research station Zulu-5 calling unidentified aircraft heading 240, over." Only static came through the speakers. After waiting several more seconds, April repeated the call. "This is research station Zulu-5 calling unidentified aircraft heading 240, research station Zulu-5 calling unidentified aircraft heading 240, over." Still no reply came over the speakers.

"They are not responding, Commander," April said, unconsciously slipping into a military mind-set at this unusual situation. Barbie touched April on the shoulder and said, "Keep trying."

"Are they changing course?" Sarah asked, leaning over the green screen of the cathode ray tube and pointing to the white dot that was the center of everyone's attention.

April slid back to the radar screen, studied it a moment, and then declared, "I believe they are." She picked up the grease pencil on the desktop and made a small notation on the blip's current position. Then, her eyes still glued to the screen, she grabbed the mike and repeated her message.

Still receiving no reply, Barbie suggested, "Maybe you should try a different frequency?"

April pointed to a set of knobs on the front of the radio set. "I am broadcasting on three frequencies now." After several minutes of silence, punctuated only by April's now drone-like voice repeating and then repeating again the message, the communications officer looked up at the station commander. "Whatever it is, it is moving fast," April told her. "And headed directly for us."

"An airliner off course?" Sarah offered.

"Or maybe a S.A.C. bomber," Becky countered. That idea seemed most plausible to everyone.

"We might be able to see it now," April told everyone, her eyes squinting at the screen. A brief hesitation, and then the three other women were taking their cold-weather gear off the hooks on the wall near the exit door. Parkers were pulled on, padded trousers stepped into. Fleece-lined boots laced and tied. The trio went through the first door of the exit, and when it had re-closed, they walked up the ramp to open the outer door, and stepping out into the perpetual black night of the Antarctic winter.

When the three women came back inside, Barbie said that whatever the flying object was, it had crashed. "April, you stay here and contact Little America in Kainan Bay. Inform them of what has happened and that we are going to investigate."

Over an hour later, April was doing the hardest of all jobs -- waiting. She tried reading her current novel, but could not absorb the words, reading one paragraph four times with no comprehension. Every five minutes she walked over to the small slit of a window that was at eye-level in the semi-subterranean day room but at ground level on the outside. April kept looking for the sweep of headlights, signifying the party's return.

Trying once more to immerse herself in her novel, she looked up, thinking she had heard a noise. Knowing how isolation and emotional stress can play tricks on one's mind, the communications officer shrugged it off. Could be the ever blowing wind outside or some piece of environmental equipment kicking in. But a few minutes later she heard another noise, more distinct this time. It was coming from behind the door leading to the hall that led to the garage. Putting her book aside, the short-haired brunette left the armchair to investigate.

As soon as April opened the door, a pair of hands seized her head and pulled her forward and downward, forcing her to the knees. She was too startled to scream, her mind reeling from the sight of the huge being in front of her. It was tall, dark, humanoid in appearance but with an inhuman skin texture. The face was definitely not inhuman. Neither was the phallus pointed at her face. A wide, throbbing monstrosity of male-meat. The flaring head pulsing and pointing directly for her mouth. When she was jerked forward on her knees, her mouth opened in surprise and that slab of an erection slid past her lips, invading her mouth. The startled, now frighten, young woman began to flail with her fists. She tried to rise but the hands with the sharp talon-like nails held her down. Muffled protests rose from her throat, her throat that was soon being violated by the alien member. April felt herself retching, nearly throwing up, as the monster hunched his hips back and forth. Using her mouth as a sexual receptacle. She tried to push away from him, her palms on his muscular thighs, but he held her tightly, thrusting his thick male appendage in and out of her warm, wet, drooling mouth. April struggled throughout the entire , nearly passing out from her efforts and lack of air. Each time that black anaconda was down her throat, she was unable to breathe. Tears flowed from her eyes, not from crying (there would be plenty of that later) but as part of her gag reflex.

As she became exhausted, thinking the ordeal would never end, those huge, leathery balls slapping against her chin, she labored not to pass out. Her hands no longer tried to hit or push away, instead they just rested on the creature's thighs, steadying herself as she was snatched back and forth like a rag doll.

But just as she felt herself slipping away, she was suddenly jolted back to awareness. The grip on her head increased -- painfully so -- and a torrent of scalding hot liquid flooded her mouth and throat. Her eyes opened wide again and she renewed her fight. The monster was coming in her mouth! She didn't even let her fiance' back in the States do that. Gurgling and sputtering around the spewing, spurting cock, she tried not to swallow, but her mouth was too full. And as soon as she had emptied it with a hasty gulp, more of the gooey sap filled it again. Just when she was wondering when the creature's ejaculation would finish, she felt the jerking slow down. The spurts became weaker, finally trailing off completely.

With an incoherent grunt, the creature shoved her away, like discarding a used tissue, and turned to stumble back down the hall.