Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction intended for adults who are not offended by sex scenes, vulgar language, mind-control, and alien abduction. All character's are fictional and adult. All plot points are implausible and silly. No alien space thingies were harmed in the writing of this story. This story is authorized to be posted at www.storiesonline.net and may be downloaded and printed out for personal use. Publication on any other site or in any other medium without permission from the author is strictly prohibited. Comments and criticisms welcome.
Jackson Davis lived in a trailer in the woods east of Smyrna, Tennessee on the banks of Stewart Creek. He was proud to be a redneck. He was barely literate, far from hygienic, and his only close relationship was with Jack Daniels. He enjoyed drinking, Nascar, pro-wrestling, and porno. Statistically speaking, he was more likely than most to be abducted by aliens. Nevertheless, it still came as quite a shock when the big glowing sphere bathed his pickup with an eerie green light as he drove home from The Hangman Bar and Grill at 2 in the morning down a country road.
His engine immediately cut out and wouldn't start up again no matter how he tried. When the entrance to the ship opened, he pissed himself with terror. The light then took on a reddish hue and suddenly things didn't seem nearly so bad. He grinned and stepped out of the truck and giggled as some unknown force lifted him up into the alien ship.
There in the ship, he came face to what could possibly be a face with a bonified alien. It was a big yellow-green blob about 12 feet across with tentacles and flippers and several shiny patches that might have been eyes. It was floating in a transparent tank of some sort with 2/3rds of itself submerged in something that looked and smelled like lime jello mixed with turpentine and vodka.
Jackson was about to introduce himself when a tentacle reached out and touched his forehead. He had the peculiar sensation of remembering everything he had ever done, seen, or thought in his 32 years of life in the course of 32 seconds. After that, introductions didn't seem necessary.
"What ya gonna do to me, Mr. Space Thingy?" he asked. He wasn't so much worried as he was vaguely curious.
"I'm going to perform strange medical experiments on you and then leave you naked in the woods," said a voice in his head. "That's what we do--hadn't you heard?"
"Oh... Well, O.K." said Jackson.
"Actually, it's more complicated than that. I'll explain it to you as the machines perform the procedures"
As the space thingy spoke, several robotic pincers, probes, blades, and lasers converged on Jackson and proceeded to remove his clothing and then peel most of the skin off his body including his face. It occurred to Jackson that this should hurt, but it didn't seem to. Neither did the probes forcing their way into every orifice of his body.
"Don't worry," said the space thingy. "Not that worry is really an option for you at the moment, but never the less, you might want to know that your body will be restored to pretty much the same condition that I found it in. I'm just installing a few implants."
"As you may have guessed," the alien continued, "I am a member of an alien species vastly superior to your own, at least from a technological standpoint. Culturally, we are profoundly similar, disturbing as that may be. Our interstellar probes discovered your planet some five thousand of your years ago and ever since we as a people have been fascinated by your exploits and follies. It doesn't speak well of us, given that there are dozens of species with much more admirable traits and lives, but it does keep me gainfully employed."
"You see, I am the equivalent of what in your culture would be a television producer. Not to say that we have anything so crude as television. Rather, we place sensors into members of your race which broadcast everything you experience back to our home planet and colonies. For a small fee, the equivalent of your cable access, my people can download any of the broadcasts coming from the several hundred of your people who have been implanted just as you are being now."
"So you see, the technology is quite different from television, but in practice the programing is quite similar. My predecessors discovered millennia ago that implanting poets, artists, philosophers or holy persons was a recipe for low ratings, while implanting sadists, criminals, degenerates and idiots would keep the molting masses coming back every time."
"Now for a long time, viewers were content with just the normal human exploits, provided that one selected a sufficiently entertaining human whom the viewer could feel superior too. Indeed, this continues to be what most of my competitors broadcast. But I am not content with the status quo. I have taken to manipulating the subjects a bit, throwing in a wild card."
"I've had success with giving subjects telekinesis, telepathy, and adjustable body parts. A few years ago, I gave mind control powers to a horny kid in China. The ratings were good at first when I released him, but viewers got bored really quick. I had to cancel the show and take back the power after just a couple months. I'm afraid the husbands, boyfriends, and fathers of all the women he'd enjoyed in the interim didn't treat him very well once he lost his powers of persuasion."
"The interesting thing is, in the brief period between my taking away his powers and his unfortunate demise, ratings shot back up again. I've been thinking about that, and I think I know where I went wrong--I made poor Ping to powerful. After his initial surprise and excitement, the show just degenerated into hundreds of women throwing themselves at him, and he didn't
even appreciate it anymore! At least, not like he had initially. There just wasn't a challenge. But once he had lost it, there was adventure again! Short lived, but like I said, it was my first attempt at the genre."
"So I thought, how could I keep the horny guy with overwhelming mind control powers theme, and yet keep an element of challenge. And then it hit me--I'll reduce the radius of power, so he can only control people that are quite close. Even better, I'll make it so he can only control people he is touching and lose control when he loses contact. And as long as I'm restricting it, why not restrict it to the subject's hands?"
"So that's what I've done to you, Jackson. I've implanted your hands with devices that will allow you to control any of your fellow humans if you touch their bare skin. As long as any part of them is in contact with any part of your hands, from wrist to finger tip, they will do anything that you suggest, believe anything that you say, feel anything that you want. You just have to think it at them or, if you can't manage that, tell them. As long as contact is maintained, they won't question why they obey you and believe you. They won't even try to break contact. Once contact is broken, however, you're on your own until you can regain contact."
By this time, the probes had withdrawn from Jackson's orifices, various devices had been implanted in to him, and his skin had been replaced without so much as a scar. They had even given him a shave and trimmed his moustache. He stared at his hands. The space thingy had been talking about his hands. What had it been saying?
"Of course, there is one other way in which I am like an earthly television producer," said the space thingy. "If you really want the role, you're going to have to suck my reproductive gland."
Jackson felt suddenly overwhelmed with a deep desire. He scrambled into the space thingy's tank, diving into the green goo. Finding a small oval hole in the side opposite the one he had been facing during the operation, he yelped with delight and started sucking and licking it with abandon. After several minutes of this, the space thingy let out a squeal and a flood of thick green liquid began to flow out of the hole, oozing and spurting. Jackson swallowed it hungrily, rubbing the excess all over himself.
Then he was floating again, up out of the tank down out of the happy little ship and back into the woods. He waved as the ship flew away, vaguely aware that it was a chilly night to be naked in the middle of the road.
Jackson awoke naked on his couch in the living room covered in sticky green goo. He tried to remember what had happened the night before and had a flash of sucking on something large and foul which sent him bolting for the toilet to hurl. Once he stopped heaving, he staggered into the shower and proceeded to scrub until his skin looked sunburnt, it was so red. He resolved not to
think about it ever again.
By the time he got dressed, it was nearly eleven. Damn. He was late for work even by his standards. Earl would have his hide.
He sped off to Earl's Auto Shop. Thankfully, Amy Jo wasn't behind the front counter. Earl's hot little wife had disliked Jackson since the 3 of them were in high school. She was always getting on his case for showing up late and screwing off. Jackson knew she was always after Earl to fire him. If he and Earl hadn't been such good friends in high school, he probably would have already.
"Where the hell have you been, Jackson!" demanded Earl from the entry to the garage. The big mechanic was smeared in grease and looking none too happy.
"I, uh, well..." said Jackson, "I over slept?"
"Bullshit," said Earl. "You were drunk, weren't you? Jackson, I've had about as much as I'm gonna take from you."
.... There is more of this story ...