The Rescued
Chapter 1: Day 0

Copyright© 2007 by Itemreader

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1: Day 0 - Steve Miller awakens in strange circumstances, and starts a journey beyond his wildest imaginings. Note, I've added a Cast List but it has spoilers for the story, so skip it unless you don't like surprises. Nota Bene: The MM code is for explicit action in Chapter 63 and later, and implicit acts a bit eariler in the story.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Ma/Ma   Mult   Consensual   Science Fiction   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   Spanking   Rough   Light Bond   Humiliation   Gang Bang   Interracial   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Sex Toys   Voyeurism  

Even as Steve Miller began to awaken, he realized something weird was going on. Normally, he awoke quickly and easily. This time, he was groggy, and felt like his brain was wrapped in cotton.

He was lying on his back, which he never did. He always slept on his stomach, or on his side; his sinus problems meant that sleeping on his back resulted in snoring, which resulted in his wife poking him until he rolled over. Twelve years of marriage made avoiding his back completely automatic.

There was also the fact that he usually slept in a cut-off pair of sweat pants, or less if he was on the road; he seemed to be wearing some kind of cross between pajamas and a martial arts gi. And to the best of his recollection, he didn't own any clothing in a blue and red pastel rose print.

Finally, there was the minor fact that the last thing he remembered wasn't going to bed, but sitting at a roadside picnic table staring at a road map as he tried to decide the best way to get around some road construction on his way home.

Sitting up, he looked around. He was laying in a ridiculously large bed, in what looked like a typically anonymous hotel room. The only things missing were the generic art prints, and a large window with a lousy city view. Interestingly, the wallpaper matched his oddly-patterned clothing. Instead of a door, there was an open archway, through which he could see a long hallway, and hear the babble of assorted voices.

He rose from the bed, and walked through the doorway. There were several other open archways along the length of the hall, leading to rooms similar to the one he'd found himself in. A striking young woman with red hair and pale complexion was entering the hallway through one of them. She was wearing an outfit similar to Steve's, though she looked much better in hers than his 45-year-old frame must look in his.

The young woman started slightly as she saw Steve and asked in a soft Irish lilt, "Can you help me? I'm afraid I'm dreadfully confused. The last thing I remember, I was sitting on a rock, taking a little break on the desert walk."

Steve shook his head. "I'm afraid we're both in the same boat, young lady. Last thing I knew, I was sitting alongside the road in central Indiana, which is a good distance from the nearest desert. The name's Steve Miller, by the way."

The woman snorted. "'Young lady!' Well young man, you've obviously remembered how to smooth-talk the ladies, even if you can't remember anything else. I'm a grandmother, I'll have you know."

Steve was about to reply in kind (though he wasn't a grandfather yet), when he suddenly realized that the familiar aches he felt when he first got up in the morning were missing. He looked down at himself, for the first time, and realized that not only was his skin young-looking, and his trucker's tan missing, but that the scars on the back of his hand from that bicycle accident in college were missing. He looked back up in shock at the woman, who saw his expression and said, "What is it?"

"Look at your hands," Steve replied. As she did so, and her face grew puzzled, then frightened, he continued, "If I had to guess, I'd say you're not a day older than 25, at the most. In fact, back in my bar-tending days, I've have carded you on the spot. I'm 45 years old, myself, but I'm guessing I don't look that way at the moment."

Visibly trying to calm herself, the woman replied, "No, Steven, you don't. I'm Mary O'Rourke, of Dublin, Ireland. I was on a desert walk outside of Phoenix, Arizona, and feeling every one of my 72 years. Next thing I know, I'm lying in bed. And now I'm talking to a young man who looks 20 and claims to be twice that."

Nodding his head down the hallway to where a babble of voices could be heard, Steve said. "If we head that way, I suspect we won't find any answers, but we'll most certainly find more people with questions."

"Quite the optimist, aren't you Steven?" Mary said with a faintly sarcastic tone, softened by the faint smile in her eyes. "Still, it sounds like an excellent idea to me."

Steve found himself quite charmed by Mary. He had been happily married for over a decade (he'd started quite late) and was genuinely uninterested in straying. He'd formed quite a few strong friendships with women since his marriage, despite the difficulties he'd had before that. Going 'off the market' had made it drastically easier to talk to women, even ones as attractive as Mary.

On a whim, Steve offered Mary his arm. Having felt the same unusual attraction to Steve as he had to her, she took it, and they walked down the hall towards the voices.

Entering a large open area, they found a small crowd of women, in several groups, who seemed to be busily discussing the fact that they didn't know what was happening, and that they hadn't found anyone who did. The confusion level was compounded by the fact that it was going on in several languages.

A pair of young Hispanic ladies were next to the wall opposite where Steve and Mary had entered. Clockwise from them, two Chinese-looking girls were talking somewhat suspiciously with a dark black-skinned young woman, while a teen-aged black girl stood by looking puzzled. A light-skinned black woman was talking to a young Japanese in the corner next to the entrance, and in the opposite corner sat a young white woman with black hair and an irritated expression on her face. Seeing Steve and Mary, she rose and stalked towards them, asking what sounded like pointed questions in what sounded like French.

Steve dug back into his fading memories of high school, and produced a somewhat halting "Parlay vous Anglais?"

The woman's mouth snapped shut, an angry frown settled on her face, and a simple "Non" issued forth.

Mary gestured to herself and said "I'm Mary," then pointed to Steve and said, "and this is Steve."

"Mary, Steve" was the reply, with each name followed by a nod in the appropriate direction. Pointing to herself, she said "Danielle," followed by a spate of French the only word of which Steve recognized was "Merde". Unless he missed his guess, that meant "shit."

Not wanting to be rude, but having nothing to say to the woman, Steve looked at Mary, shrugged, and moved towards the largest group of women, the Chinese and (apparently) African pairs. The French speaker shrugged as well, and followed along as well.

At Steve's approach, the black woman who'd been doing most of the talking paused, then turned to him and said something in an inquiring tone in a language he didn't recognize. When he responded by saying, "Hello, my name is Steve, and this is Mary and Danielle," she switched to English, and replied, "Hello, Steve, Mary. My name is Nytoya. I've already met Danielle, but I'm afraid we don't have any languages in common, so we didn't converse very much." Gesturing in turn to the young black girl, and then to each of the Chinese women, she introduced Abema, Chen Li-Shu ("who answers to 'Li'"), and Hosen Kosai ("who's called 'Ko'").

A quick discussion followed, wherein it became clear that Nytoya (1) had been educated in Britain, (2) spoke several dialects of Chinese and several African languages, well enough to have extracted the names of the girls and discover something about their (minimal to non-existent) education and awareness of the outside world, and (3) was at least as ignorant about what was going on as Steve and Mary were. (If Danielle knew anything, it was still locked away behind the language barrier.)

Steve and Mary moved on to the next group of women; Danielle stalked back to her original corner and her original sulk. Here Steve's visits to the American Southwest, and Mary's visits to Spain allowed them to stumble through introductions to Theresa and Conseula, as well as establishing that neither was well educated. Both Latinas were deferential to Steve, referring to him as "Patron", but it wasn't clear to Steve at least if that was politeness or sarcasm.

Steve and Mary's marginal language skills and the women's limited experience proved to be nearly as great a barrier to communication as that between the four of them and Danielle. Steve and Mary finally made their excuses as best they could and moved on to the final pair of women. As with Nytoya, they found that they could at least make themselves understood, as Moesha was from small-town Mississippi and Yoshi (who was Japanese, from Kobe) spoke very good English. Unfortunately, the only thing the ease of communication did was make it clear that much sooner that everyone in the room was in the same boat. They had all awakened with no memory of how they came to be here.

The one bit of information that Steve had gleaned was that, at least as far as he could tell, everyone's last memories were of being in a large open area, well away from large buildings, cliffs, or large bodies of water. (Yoshi and Mary had actually been on similar vacation trips, though in different states.)

The lack of useful information, as well as a growing thirst irritated Steve enough that he tipped his head back, and said rather loudly, "Hey, Room! What's a guy got to do to get something to drink around here?"

There was a quiet chime, and part of the previously blank wall lit up and showed a fairly lifelike figure walking up to an alcove and touching a panel next to it. The figure asked, in English, for ice water. A cup appeared, which the figure picked up, and drank from. The cup was returned to the alcove, where it vanished. The screen then went blank.

Mary looked at Steve, and Yoshi and asked, "OK, you're going to think I'm daft, but what language did the creature speak when it asked for water?"

Steve and Moesha said, "English" just as Yoshi said, "Japanese". Mary shook her head, and said, "I heard Gaelic. I wonder how it knew which languages to use, and how we only heard one language each?"

Steve thought for a moment, and said "Room, if you can provide translation services to us, please do so. When I look at someone, translate what they are saying to me. Do so for the rest of us as well." A soft voice replied, "As you wish."

Steve looked around, and saw Danielle next to an alcove like the one in the image, apparently getting something to drink. He walked over to her, made eye contact, and said, "Can you understand me now?"

When Danielle replied, the effect was somewhat distracting. Her actual reply, in French, was somewhat muffled, being overridden by the English translation. The translation had odd pauses, no doubt reflecting the difference in French and English grammar. It was also spoken in Danielle's own voice tones, which would probably prove helpful if more than one person talked to him at once. The translated voice even seemed to convey the original emotional content.

"Yes, I can, now. Where are we, and how did we get here? You must know something, because I've been asking questions like that for the better part of an hour now, and never got a response, yet the first time you do so, you're immediately answered."

"I don't know any more than you do, from your tone. I was sitting at the side of the road, at a bench, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up here. As to getting an answer when you were ignored, I can't explain that either. Maybe our hosts are sexist pigs?"

Sipping her drink, which appeared to be wine, Danielle nodded. "Perhaps you are right. I apologize if I spoke harshly. I have been somewhat frustrated. I was the first to awaken, and have watched as person after person found someone they could communicate with, while I stood alone. I like you; you have strength, where so many of these women are weak. Mary, there, is also strong. I think we will do well."

"I hope so," Steve replied, as he turned for a drink of his own. Receiving a black coffee, one sugar, he walked back to Danielle's side, turned towards the area where the images had been displayed, and spoke loudly. "Room, who has brought us here, and why?"

A new series of images began to be displayed on the wall. As they started, Mary moved to join Steve and Danielle, while the other women arrayed themselves around him.

The 'movie' started with a view of Earth from space, apparently from some distance. The view held steady for a moment, then a sudden flash of light appeared to one side. A shudder seemed to run through the surface, as the cloud formations suddenly changed to a series of concentric circles, apparently centered on the flash point. A second flash appeared almost instantly on the opposite side of the globe, accompanied by a huge geyser of what looked like rock, or lava. The globe visibly deformed, and a large burst of rock and lava spewed out of the wounds from both flashes. There was silence in the room as the various ejecta started raining back down on the planet, causing large secondary impacts.

There was silence in the room as the view shifted to a large array of rectangular pallets, thousands of them, in a large room. Bodies, some of them visibly damaged, began appearing on the pallets. As each body appeared, it would be surrounded briefly by a blue glow centered on the shoulders, which was then replaced by a silver cocoon covering the whole body. Each body was visible only for a few seconds before the cocoon covered it, but two things seemed to stand out. First, the bodies were predominately female, at least dozens of women for each man. Second, none of the bodies ever moved. It was hard to be sure, but it didn't appear as if they were breathing. The process continued until all the pallets were covered by cocoons. The view faded, then returned to what could have been the same array, or a completely different one. The cocoons began to disappear, revealing human figures that were uninjured, obviously breathing, and as far as could be told at a distance, younger than the original occupants.

The view faded to black, and a emotionless voice began to speak. "There was an accident. Our group of ships was off course, and one of them impacted your planet. The ship was destroyed; and all life on your planet along with it. We recovered as many as we could, from as many parts of the planet as possible before conditions deteriorated. Your group is one of many; assembled so as to maximize the probability that your species will survive this event. The appropriate authorities have been notified; we are to provide for your every need until they arrive. When they do, they will judge us, assess penalties upon us, and determine what restitution can be made to you. As we have demonstrated incompetence, your care is under independent control, and is planned to maximize the survivability of your species and culture. We are forbidden further contact unless emergencies arise, but your rooms can and will provide all that is in our power to meet your needs until the authorities arrive. What has happened makes apology or atonement impossible, but we deeply regret these events. You will be contacted again when the responsible authorities are available."

The voice fell silent.

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