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Abducted by Aliens

by Brooklyn Mayflower

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2018 by Brooklyn Mayflower, Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission, requests write to the publisher at


Characters in this book who engage in sexual acts are consenting adults. Characters are not based on real persons. No intention is being made to encourage any action which is unlawful. This story is a work of fiction. Please have sex responsibly, legally and safely.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 – A Female Specimen

Chapter 2 – A Young Survivor

Chapter 3 – Too Hard to Resist

Chapter 1 – A Female Specimen

The night Bill found her, there was a loud explosion. You would think that the military or men in black suits and sunglasses would have showed up, and that’s what he thought for a while, but they never did.

It was about 1am at night when Bill woke up to take a leak. He shuffled back to bed, but before his head hit the pillow his bedroom was illuminated like it was broad daylight. The light was accompanied by a loud whistling sound, like his house was about to get shelled by an enemy mortar, or have missile dropped on his head.

“What in the world?”

Bill would have pissed himself if he hadn’t already used the latrine. He leapt out of bed and instinctively grabbed the rifle that was under his bed. He figured it was the damn government finally coming to get him for speaking out against all their bullshit over the years. He wasn’t about to go down without a fight, but he gripped the AR-15 tight, thinking his house was about to blowup. The explosion, however, erupted almost a mile from his place. The thing is, he was so far out in what he called “No-where-ville” Wyoming, that it was unlikely that anybody heard—or possibly even seen—whatever had just exploded nearby.

Naturally he jumped in his pickup truck and headed out to see what it was. Perhaps it was a plane that flew off course and crashed, or some experimental government project gone wrong. Thankfully, he’d prepared for being able to leave the house at a moment’s notice and deal with damn-near any kind of emergency that nature, God or the government could throw at him. Bill not only had a bug-out bag always by the back door, but also had one stowed in his truck, and he had spent the past four and a half years building an underground shelter designed to survive the unimaginable. It’s a nice thing knowing you’re prepared, because then you can sleep easy, but nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to discover.

The snow was coming down thick but Bill could still make out the light from the fires of the crash site. He killed the headlights and pulled the truck over, not far from the debris field. The area was lit up by a circle of small brush fires. He couldn’t believe his eyes but he was looking straight at an alien craft—granted, it was in pieces. Long story short, he combed through the debris, foolishly not caring about contamination or radiation. What he saw was a series of crates that were marked with icons depicting various life forms. The icons were nothing more that crude silhouettes embossed into the unblemished surface of each container. There were pictures of plants, fish, a dog, some strange creatures that didn’t look Earthling at all, and there was a container that had an image of what appeared to be a human female.

Somehow the crates appeared like they were in pristine condition—as if they didn’t just fall out of the sky and create a massive impact crater. Clearly the containers were made out of some futuristic space-age material. Bill started to think about government satellites and drones, and government thugs following his tracks back to his house. Thankfully he was in the middle of a Wyoming blizzard, so catching a glimpse of him was slim to none and his tracks would be quickly covered up.

Just like any plane crash that would have people’s luggage strewn all over the place, it was no different here, but these were no suitcases and luggage bags. Although he was curious to find out what was inside some of the crates that had strange alien lifeforms depicted on them, he wasn’t going to let his curiosity get the better of him. He really didn’t know if what he was seeing was the wreckage and cargo of an alien ship or not, but it sure didn’t seem manmade. His loyalties were with his own species, however, and if there was a human in the crate that had the outline of a woman etched into it, he had to find out. He wanted to know what these sick bastards had done to one of his own kind.

In the unbearably cold snow storm he loaded the coffin-sized container into the back of his truck and took off for his cabin. More surprises were still ahead.


Bill figured the best place to examine the crate was down in his underground bomb shelter, which was 33 feet below the surface. Of course, he wasn’t sure how far an alien tracking device could broadcast through dirt and rock, but it was unlikely that the government could track the object. He also figured that if the contents of the crate proved toxic, or a humanoid that wasn’t exactly human, he could at least trap the thing in his underground shelter. The blast door would take a tank to get through.

It took some time figuring out how exactly to open the crate, but finally the lid just came open. There was no handle or lock, he simply turned his hand in a counter-clockwise motion in front of a circular icon and the lid of the container lifted up—just like the hinged lid of a coffin. It was like waving your hands in front of a motion sensor faucet in a public bathroom, he thought.

As the lid rose he saw the precious contents. A beautiful girl with red hair. She was completely naked, suspended in what appeared to be a clear Jell-O like substance. She had various cords and wires stuck to her, and a tube running to a mask that covered her mouth and nose. Bill was now sure that the container had alien origins as the underside of the lid had a display that lit up like a flatscreen monitor. It displayed what appeared to be vital signs and facts about the human girl suspended in the gel, but the script wasn’t simply foreign but otherworldly.

“Damnit, I wish this was in English,” Bill cursed under his breath.

English selected,” came a voice emitted from the coffin-like cargo box.

Bill stumbled backward, startled. “Holy shit, this thing has voice commands?!” He kicked himself, thinking, of course it had voice commands because it’s advanced alien technology, duh!

The menu in front of him displayed everything he could possibly want to know about the girl’s vital signs. “How old is this girl?” Bill asked.

The subject was retrieved in the year 1843…as Earthlings count. The subject is 18 years, 10 days, and 32 minutes old, measured in Earth years.”

“1843!” Bill exclaimed.

The girl was gorgeous—beautiful, naked, a perfect angel that had fallen from the sky, virtually into his arms. He thought about the girl’s parents, and how they were obviously long dead.

“Is the girl okay?”

The subject is in perfect health.”

That was reassuring. Of course, if he woke her up—if that was even a possibility—what was she going to think? Her parents were long dead, no doubt. It isn’t like he could just tell this story to anyone. The government would want the container, and would take him in for questioning, and do who-knows-what to the girl. Perhaps they’d even put a bullet in the back of his head to keep him quiet. Bill really wasn’t the type of guy that trusted Big Brother.

“What are my options?”

Displaying medical options now.”

The screen lit up a wide array of options that he could choose from. He could terminate her, wake her, perform various vital checks, and…erase her memory.

“Holy shit.”

Bill leaned back, biting his thumb—wondering if he should do it. The only thing that was incomplete at the mountain man’s lonely cabin and bomb shelter, was a female. Heck, he could convince the girl that she was his wife or his daughter if he really wanted to. It seemed like he contemplated what to do with her for several hours, but it was only about 20 minutes.

Bill finally made up his mind. The fact was, this girl would either be dead or getting carted off to some alien world—likely to be dissected—if it wasn’t for him. Heck, if he had left her there, she would probably be getting interrogated and then dissected by her own species.

“Erase the subject’s memory,” Bill commanded.

Negative. The subject’s memory has already been erased in accordance with Article 315-B, covering the transport of intelligent—or potentially intelligent—sentient beings to the Xvellian home world. The subject only retains language skills and other basic knowledge learned during its existence.”

“What is the subject called?”

The subject is a human female, of the ethnic group known as…

“No, I mean what is the subject’s name.”

The subject has no name. Would you like to name her?

“Yes,” Bill said, but didn’t have anything particular in mind. Finally it occurred to him. “Call her Sky.”

The subject is now called Sky. Would you like to do anything else with Sky?

Bill almost said “wake her” but then realized that he didn’t have any clothes for her. He also realized that since he had figured out how to open the container, there was a treasure trove of other containers at the crash site.

“How long can you keep her alive?”

Her body is aging at a decelerated rate and can likely be kept alive for 3,461 Earth years.

“What is her height and other measurements? I need to know everything; the size of her feet, waist, bra size, you name it.”

Of course, the computer first had him select a measurement system, then he had to convert inches and feet into measurements that would be useful in a clothing store. The computer prattled everything he needed to know to buy the girl a new wardrobe.

“Okay, that’s all I needed to know. I’ll be back.”

Bill immediately stood up and rushed out of the bomb shelter, being sure to seal the blast door and shut the two secret doors that led down to the shelter from his cabin. He was going back to the crash site, and then he’d head to buy his new “daughter” some clothes, and a few other things. He didn’t know how he felt about convincing her that she was his wife, and then having sex with her—taking advantage of the fact that her memory was erased. He had always wanted to have a family, but his military career and loner lifestyle had kept him from that. Besides, he could justify lying to her to save her from the heartache that her parents had likely passed away a hundred years ago.

That’s what Bill told himself anyway, but those excuses were covering for a sexual appetite he just wasn’t ready to come to terms with yet.


The blizzard was still raging but Bill was use to driving in those conditions. He finally arrived back at the crash site. It had only been about 4 hours, maybe five, but everything—absolutely everything—was gone. The only thing that remained was a slight impact crater, a scar of burnt earth and a series of bushes that had caught fire but had long since gone out and had been peppered again with more snow.

Was it the government? Was it an alien cleanup screw? Bill didn’t know, but one thing was for sure…

Bill needed to get his “daughter” some clothes.

Chapter 2 – A Young Survivor

Bill returned to his cabin with clothes, girlish bedding and a variety of other things to decorate one of the rooms down in the bomb shelter. The shelter consisted of four bedrooms, a kitchen, a library, an armory, living room, and everything a small group of people would need to survive for several years underground. Bill planned to decorate one of the rooms like a girl’s room for his new “daughter.” He couldn’t, after all, keep her down in the shelter forever. Considering Bill’s age, it would be less conspicuous to call Sky his daughter, rather than his wife.

Again, that was the story he was telling himself.

“Fuck!” Bill said, realizing there was one question he should have asked the computer. He dropped a bag of clothes and rushed over to the hyper-sleep chamber that contained the girl in suspended animation.

“Is there a homing beacon?”

No, the homing beacon has malfunctioned,” came the response.

Although the container seemed indestructible, the beacon was likely damaged in the crash, Bill thought. That was a good thing as far as he was concerned. The last thing he needed was for aliens or men from the government to find him and his new “daughter” hiding out in his underground bunker.

With his concerns out of the way, he started to fix up Sky’s bedroom.


It was time to wake up Sky and tell her what happened—or his version of the story.

“Wake up the subject.”

Waking the subject,” the computer responded.

Bill stood back as the clear gel-like substance in the coffin-like crate began to liquefy. The liquid was sucked out and disappeared into the floor of the container but Sky just laid there seemingly lifeless. There was the sudden sound of air being expelled and seals being released as straps, tubes and the mask over her face were retracted into compartments in the walls of the container. It was like everything was organic, rather than plastic and metal.

Sky’s eyelids opened.

She was disoriented and distraught, but he quickly soothed her. “It’s okay, daddy’s here.”

“Daddy? I don’t...are you my daddy?”

“Yes, sweetheart, of course I’m your daddy?”

“Why am I naked? What happened?” she asked timidly, sitting up quickly and covering her little breasts.

Bill handed her a satin robe he bought her to wrap up in. “You were abducted by aliens, but thankfully the spaceship crashed and I was able to rescue you. I guess you must have bumped your head and lost your memory.”

Sky clutched her head and looked around the living room.

Bill reached out a hand and helped her out of the container. He directed her to sit on the couch and told her, “Just wait right here, you’re safe now.” He quickly dragged the alien container to his bedroom and locked the door. Out of sight, out of mind…and he didn’t want her asking the talking computer too many questions.


Sky truly only knew the English language, and had a very basic understanding of little else. Bill became her teacher, and told her that they were going to spend a few months in the underground bunker learning all about the world so she would be ready for it. Three months had passed, but he had no intention of keeping her prison. In fact, he really started to care for her and enjoy being a dad. He showed her magazines, books and movies that gave her a sense of what modern life was like. Although she was a full grown adult, Sky was innocent and naïve about everything, having had her mind wiped by her alien captors, so there was much to teach her.

Although Bill admitted to himself that he had certainly had sexual thoughts of her when he first opened the alien container and saw her naked, floating in suspended animation, he had truly come to think of her as his daughter. Sexual thoughts had all but completely disappeared from his mind, and anything something would emerge he did a pretty good job of banishing it from his mind.

Although she was almost 19 years old, her knowledge of the world was far behind other girl’s her age because of the mind wipe. She was young and innocent and he needed to teach her and protect her. Perhaps one more month of instruction and they would come out of the underground shelter.

Anytime Sky would complain about wanting to get out of the bunker, Bill would remind her of how much she still needed to learn. He also warned her of the possibility that the space aliens could return and abduct her again. He honestly didn’t think they would, but he couldn’t help thinking how her presence in the bunker had made it his little underground slice of heaven.

One day when she said, “Daddy, I can’t stand being down here any longer,” he showed her an alien abduction movie, saying, “Do you want to see what it’s like to get abducted by these creatures?” The movie was fiction, and Bill had no idea what the aliens that had abducted her even looked like, but his plan worked. She couldn’t get through the whole movie, and was so frightened that night that she knocked on her dad’s bedroom door and asked to sleep in his bed.

She laid there next to him, quietly sleeping with her arm wrapped around a big teddy bear he had gotten her. Bill had to resist the urge to touch her soft warm body and snuggle up to her. He knew he wouldn’t be able to resist touching his daughter in a sexual way, and he hadn’t even taught her anything about the bird’s and the bees yet.

The next morning, on the 92nd day of Sky being with him, Bill decided to teach his little girl about sex. He had woken up with a massive erection, and had resisted the urge to put his arm around his daughter and cup one of her breasts in his hand, or rub her ass, or to grind his cock against her. Sleeping next to her, forcing himself to behave, had proven to be hell. He had even gotten out of bed in the middle of the night to jack off, trying to keep his mind off of pulling his daughter’s panties down and shoving his dick in her, but it was no use. He couldn’t stop thinking of finally fucking his sweet little girl.

“Good morning,” he said. “Good morning,” Sky said cheerfully, as she sat up in bed next to her dad.

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