Eve Langlais - Accidental Abduction

Not that he cared about their fate. The galaxy had more than enough viable planets and sentient races. They wouldn’t miss the loss of one backwards planet out in the far reaches.

But what to do about the Earthling? He raised his pistol to end the human’s life, but hesitated. What had it meant when it called him Han Solo on crack? His translator didn’t know what to make of it, and dammit, now he found himself curious.

I’ll kill it after I find out. Decided, he holstered his gun and then crouched to grab the limp body. He rolled the human onto its back and that’s when he noticed the damage done to the female. And female she certainly was with her plentiful bosom spilling from the top of a soaking rag-only two breasts, though, instead of a lush four or five. He ignored her feminine attributes as he took in her twisted leg, broken in at least three places he’d wager.

I’m surprised she didn’t scream her head off when she woke there for a moment. Probably shock kept her from noticing her injury. She’d certainly have plenty to say when she woke again-blubbering and gushing tears he couldn’t abide. For a moment, he again debated just shooting her now before he had to put up with lunatic raving, but stopped at the sight of her looking so utterly helpless. He cursed as he holstered his gun. He, the coldest killer in the known galaxies, couldn’t kill her. That’s it. I need to go on a mission before I turn into a complete frukxning softy. He’d let his contacts know he was back in business as soon as he got rid of his cargo, including one sure-to-be-annoying female.

He slid his hands under her plump frame and drew her toward him before standing with her cradled in his arms. With no effort on his part-he kept himself in impeccable shape-he carried her to the end of the walkway and the equipment lift. A short elevator ride later, he spilled onto an upper level where he kept his room and the medical chamber.

Curiosity made him peek at her while he carried her. Her skin appeared pale, extremely so and beneath its surface he could see a fragile network of veins. He would have called her unblemished but noticed her skin appeared marred by a strange line of pale dots across the bridge of her nose. That’ll decrease her value. She sported dark lashes and brows at odds with her pale colored hair that streaked from a light gold to a dark brown. Her lips, an odd blue color, were full, and through their parted seam he could see white teeth, flat edged, making him wonder if perhaps her kind were herbivores. Her body filled his arms, opulent and soft, yet not obscenely so. The wet fabric she wore molded to the round fullness of her breasts and clung to her prominent nipples.

To his disbelief, his groin tightened at the sight. Apparently, he’d waited too long between brothel visits if this pale, sodden female could incite lust, especially considering she only owned two breasts-a common trait among her kind or a genetic abnormality?

Disgusted with himself and his interest in her as a copulating partner, he dumped her onto the diagnostic table in his medical room. The repair and diagnostic unit descended from the ceiling with a whir. Tren punched in a few commands on the device and then walked away, only to return a moment later when the machine beeped.

“Stupid machine. It can heal anything, but it can’t stand wet clothes,” he grumbled. He grasped the damp fabric adorning her frame and tore it in half before peeling it from her body. Womanly curves greeted him and, despite her dual mounds, he hungrily drank the sight of her in from the dark blush of her nipples to the brown thatch between her legs. His hand couldn’t help but trace the round softness of her belly with its intriguing hole in the middle. He wondered what it was for, and had to admit it made her body intriguing to behold, a fact his hardening cock agreed with.

With a curse at his lack of control, he whirled and stomped out of the chamber, letting the unit do its work. His clothes, damp and stinking of the Earth’s ocean, required changing and he proceeded to his chambers to do so. He dropped his soiled garments in the ship’s cleansing unit before dressing in a clean and dry outfit. It was as he tucked his shirt into his pants that it occurred to him he’d have to clothe the female.

Or let her run around naked , his mind whispered with a dirty chuckle. His cock twitched at the thought. Tren tightened his lips into a thin line. I am definitely visiting a brothel at my next stop.

Not owning any feminine garments, he snagged a spare shirt and pants of his. He’d pick her up some clothes in one of his docking ports. Or he’d sell her naked, whichever he thought would fetch him a better price.

Knowing the medical unit would require a few more galactic units to complete its work, he went back to the command center, the spare clothes bundles under his arm. He wanted to do more research on Earthling females and discover ways of muzzling them, because with his luck, she’d probably end up the noisy, wailing type.

And all males know the only time a woman should speak is during sex when she screams our name.

Megan regained consciousness slowly, a half smile curving her lips as her vivid dream of a space buccaneer kidnapping her for seduction slowly dissipated. What an odd dream to have. She opened her eyes and blinked as she stared up at some odd machine. Lights flashed, machinery whirred and as she watched, a hole opened up and dropped a stream of goop on her.

“What the fuck?” She struggled to sit up but couldn’t, which caused a mini panic attack. Hyperventilating, she whipped her head from side to side, the only part of her she could move, looking for answers. No straps appeared on her arms, and when she lifted her head to peek she saw nothing on her legs. Yet something, an invisible force, held her prone while the machine dropped icky stuff all over her body. Most disturbing of all, she wore not a stitch of clothing. Who undressed me? And what did they do to my body?

Memory of her abduction flooded her mind and she closed her eyes with a groan. Apparently, the tall, dark pirate she vaguely remembered from her dream wasn’t a figment of her imagination. He’d brought her aboard his ship and now prepared to… She cracked an eye open. Heal her? Probe her? Tenderize her body for eating? She hoped for the first option, but wouldn’t hold her breath.

Caught like a fly on sticky tape-until she could finagle her way out-she took stock of her situation. The burning pain in her leg and ribs seemed gone, numb with drugs? Or had the machine disabled her nerve endings? Maybe to prevent me from screaming when they eat me alive? She really shouldn’t have watched that marathon of bad space movies with Cameron. Make that more like horror flicks about the different ways humans could die at alien hands.

Of her fatigue, not a trace remained; not even any soreness in her muscles from those hours of treading water. It made her wonder just how long she’d remained unconscious.

In order to keep herself from panicking as the machine marinated her skin in a variety of liquid slime, she turned her thoughts to her recollection of the alien, a twisted version of Han Solo. She wouldn’t mind taking a peek at him again to see if he was an intriguing as she recalled. Delirious with pain, she’d gotten a brief impression of height, width and piercing blue eyes. And surprise! He definitely hadn’t expected to find her on his ship.

Heat suffused her, unnatural warmth, and she craned her head as far as she could to see if the machine had set her body on fire. No flames licked at her skin, but the weird goop all over her body melted, and a moment later, the invisible force holding her let go.