you're abducted by aliens and become their impersonal test subject, being shown raunchy images and pornographic videos while they use a special device to edge you. endlessly. constantly. studying you like the "thing" you are to them.
warnings: fem!human with gn!aliens // nsfw - dead dove: do not eat // kidnapping/alien abduction, explicit non-con, bondage, constant forced edging, sexual testing, reader is gagged/masked, nipple stim, constant & overstimulating clit stim, vaginal insert that vibrates and reads body reactions to prevent orgasms, med/scientific fetish, being observed, forced to watch raunchy videos, reader is treated like an object/thing, mindbreaking/accepting her fate, mentions of breeding/breeding kink stuff, mentions of tentacle sex in the videos; no orgasms
a/n: i have been sick for the last week and am still sick, but finally starting recovery. this is probably going to be a bit of a mess. this scene came to me in one of many fever dreams enjoy. (Also, if we want to see the breeding tests mentioned at the end, let me know. I can write more. I know this type of fic isn't for everyone.)
The projected images and movies flash across the white wall, throwing the myriad of colors out through the observation window and into the busy hallway. Various researchers pass by in their designated groups, peeking into each window of each room as they go along to see how the never-ending study of the human species continues.
You know they're there. You can't see them. You can't hear them. But you know they're there.
Outside, a group stops, notepads ready. Long fingers and tendrils hold pencils and pens, writing in perfect penmanship along the lines on their papers. They lean in, they crane their long necks, they tilt to listen through the almost soundproof walls, door, and window.
The next image on the wall in front of you changes. The brace on your head holds you steady, and the audio input in the speakers over your ears plays the connected sound only for you to hear. The mask latched with a tight lock is ventilated enough to allow you to breathe, but it muffles every other sound that is pulled out of you; every plea and beg you're certain they can understand, at least enough to have given you the mask to shut you up.
Whines slither into your ears as the projected woman's clothes are torn away from her by long, green tentacles from a being--thing--that looks like those you know are out there watching. Studying.
Sweat dribbles down your chest. Stomach. You drop your eyes down yourself. The chair you've been restrained to for so long, you've lost track. Arms bound to the arm rests in padded straps. One looped around your mid-section to hold you steady, and then down where they've rearranged you. Stirrup-like extension keep your legs parted wide.
The fabric from the straps is all that covers you.
In the video, a tentacle slowly slithers up to the woman's cunt; it glides over it, making her moan, and she angles herself back for the camera. A perfect arch of her back, a show of her, to let you see the other tentacles slide into frame. They wrap her up like a present, and bulge with muscle that locks her still.
Your toes curl and you blink away the involuntary tears. Following the bead of sweat down brings out every sticky pad they've stuck to you. For machines you can't see, but they're there, reading every little detail your body gives to the videos, to the images, the sounds, the test.
You don't remember how you got there. One night, you were in bed, and then you woke up there. In the chair. Looking down at yourself, horrified, confused, wondering if it was just an absurd dream. And then it clicked. Literally. It clicked on.
Processing your new location, your lack of clothing, the restraints, the pads stuck to you, the images flashing on the screen as an alien language murmurs in your ears--it's all so much. When the chair clicks on its special functions, it takes up to a new level.
It's just a little larger than your clit. It comes up on a thin, adjustable, bendable rod from the bottom of the chair. Right between those stirrups. It's a clear plastic cup, of sorts, they've nestled right up against you. The hood of your clit pulled back so when the faintest suction begins and the softest vibrations carry through, there's nothing there to guard.
Direct to your clit, it suckles and vibrates endlessly. The strength varies at times without ever a warning. All that you know, with dead certainty, as tears stream your cheeks as you watch the woman on screen get penetrated by one of the tentacles--it always stops before you cum.
There's an insert. They gave it to you shortly after your arrival. When you went through every emotion possible as the hours passed. You tried to fight it, but by the time they came in, you were trapped between begging to be freed, to go home, to be let go and, for the love of god, to just cum.
Instead, the tall, inhuman beings blinked their wide eyes at you, rubbed a cold metal apparatus against your cunt, and then slowly pressed it into you. Thick and filling, with a long wire dangling from the end that they clicked into the chair.
You shook your head and shouted for a reprieve. For anything. Anything. But you received nothing except a phallic metal device for your pussy to clench and squeeze. That occasionally vibrated and pulsed as you did.
Your only guess is that it's used to help make their tests more precise. After they slid that into you, the suction cup vibrated and suckled up to the edge. The very last, eye-watering, gasping, toe-curling, cunt-clenching second.
A sob breaks out into your mask as all sensations cut out, and you gasp. You've given up on pulling on the straps that never give. The mask is practically pointless as you know, already, the odds of them giving you anything more than they have is pointless hope. The only times they come into the room is when you lose consciousness, to feed you, to hose you down in a bathroom-like area where you can't even stand on your weak legs, and to check you. Lifting the suction cup and pressing gloved fingers against your swollen clit to make you lurch and thrash with nowhere to go.
They run their fingers through the puddle you've left while you pulse around the insert. They rub their fingers together, smear it over testing swatches and tube and even your inner thighs. And then they nod, return the suction cup, and it roars to life as they leave.
On that white wall you've tried not to look at, your failure mocks you directly. The woman shrieks as she cums gushing around the bulging tentacle spilling thick liquid into her. Tears chase each other down your cheeks and catch on the mask.
The door to your room opens.
Outside, those stopped scribble onto their pages.
A single, tall, hulking alien saunters in with a cart. The woman's whines in the video drown out any sound in the room as she cums again, and you are left without; all the vibrating halting as the alien stands over you. Silent. Barely even looking at you.
They reach down for the cart you cannot turn your head to see. But it doesn't take long to see what they're there to do. Click. Click. Your breath catches as two more bendable, thin rods are attached with suction cups on their ends. You try to shake your head, but exhaustion battles the ache rippling through you.
They bend them down one at a time, positioning them over your nipples and.... Click. Click. They suckle and vibrate, adding a whole new ache where your pussy clenched around the suddenly vibrating insert. Long, soft vibrations that nudge your g-spot. Right as they pull the suction cup back from your clit, and you watch it twitch as they poke it with their finger like it's something they've never seen before. Like you're not their personal test subject for who knows how long at this point. Yet they nudge it again. And again. Until their beady eyes are searing into yours, and they're rubbing your overly sensitive, swollen, throbbing clit as the woman in the video does not have a hole empty and unfucked, screaming to cum.
Black spots hit your vision. It's right there. That unallowed orgasm. Right...there....
Yet they retreat.
Every sensation cuts out.
They return the suction cup to your clit and eye the puddle that only grows beneath your cunt.
Then, they wheel the cart out, and the video ends.
Another starts. A woman masturbating. Alone in her room. Rubbing her clit and whining and moaning, facing the camera, showing off as she stuffs her fingers into her. No fanfare. No slow build. She squirts around her fingers with a moan, and keeps going. Keeps getting to cum. And cum. And cum again. Again. Again. And again.
The observers outside all lift their head to the approaching lead with the cart.
"Carry on to the more interesting experiments," they say plainly, pulling off their gloves slick from you. "We intend to keep this subject as is until the 300 hour mark, then it will be moved for breeding tests."
Pencils and pens scribble. Your toes curl and your body shudders with another almost orgasm. But you're only left gasping and sobbing as the unseen observers scurry off to their next interesting subject.
Your mind goes quiet when the next video begins, another slithering tentacle pounding into a woman. The suction cups suckle and vibrate everywhere.
ALIEN ABDUCTION THE FEDRI FIC IS NOT ABOUT AN ACTUAL ALIEN ABDUCTION, THERE IS NO SPACE TRAVEL OR ALIEN LIFE FORMS
Alien Abduction is about a sad bisexual and an oblivious ferransexual who can't communicate, found family, forgiveness and betrayal, and football. Like there are about 7 football games described plus training plus team dynamics. No galactic wars, just UCL. It's a World Cup year in the fic too, not this cycle but the next.
IT'S FOOTBALL BUT EVERYONE LOWKEY GAY. People say it has Ted Lasso vibes, NOT Star Trek.
Kinktober '25 Schedule // More Kinktober // Masterlist 2.0
Synopsis: Four aliens abduct you and use you as they wish for their breeding ritual.
Warnings: dead dove: don’t eat - non-con & kidnapping/alien abduction; dub-con if you count the strong aphrodisiac administered to the reader, bondage, reader wears an aphrodisiac-giving mask as a gag, slight medical/scientific kink, tentacles, tentacle fucking (anal), breeding kink, four aliens take turns fucking the reader repeatedly, size difference (aliens are huuuuuge), nipple stim, clit stim, unprotected sex, lots of cum, holding cum in, entirely orgasm torture, constant fucking for undisclosed amount of time, mindbreaking, chastity belt with anal and vaginal vibrating plugs used, overstimulation, so so so so many mindbreaking orgasms, squirting, implied pregnancy but nothing confirmed
Word Count: 1.8k
A/N: This was a prompt left on the kinktober sheet (see below), so this one’s for you. Hope it’s in the ballpark of what you were interested in :D Happy Kinktober! (there's a masc!reader version of this coming later this month (oct 11th) where a milking machine is involved, i promise!)
Sterile.
There’s a sterile smell when your eyes open.
It’s sterile and cold, and there’s a quiet hum of some type of machinery that breaches beyond the air around you. It sinks. Past your skin, the cuffs on your wrists, the freezing, padded table underneath you molding to your body.
Cuffs?
A heavy blink brought a blinding light above you that made you shut your eyes again. The hum continued. Deep in your bones and into a strange pit in your belly.
Table?
Lights?
You cracked your eyes open again and winced at that horrid light.
Lights. Rows of them above you. Spotlights. Silver and perfectly polished. All honed in on you. You. You on a table that wasn’t your bed. Cuffed at your wrists, held high above your head, and down at your ankles–
Naked.
In a silver room of too many lights, dead center next to a tall table covered with a thin papery blanket, you lay naked. Gagged. Gagged with a thick mask over your nose and mouth. A tubular piece pressed into your mouth to bite on without any give to it.
Pulling at the cuffs was a futile effort. A quick, panicky realization. Cold air pebbled your nipples and made you shiver, and writhing about only dug the cuffs into your wrists harder. Down on your ankles, stirrups held your legs up and as open as they’d go. A faint stretched going through the back of them and down through where the table was clearly angled. Your hips higher than your upper half, angled back, yet lifted.
Where were you? What happened? Were you dreaming? Last you recalled, you’d climbed into bed with a cup of tea to help you sleep. It’d come so quickly, it’d been a quiet miracle. And now…?
Sweet.
The humming grew louder, and something sweet came in on your next breath. Down across your tongue. Sweet like blueberries and whipped cream. A soft, addictive sweetness that came in every breath and dripped down your throat in small, rhythmic drops.
Where….
The silver room began to blur.
The chill began to fade.
Where…were…you?
To your left, at a silence-breaking woosh, the wall broke in half. Four figures, too shadowed in blurry vision to see, came strolling in. Tall. Twice your size, at least. Masks covered the bottom half of their faces, green skin stood out against the silver, and a range of different eyes looked upon you. Red, pink, purple, and yellow. Tall, yes, but their bodies were distinct. Curvier. Slimmer. Muscular.
A heavy blink seemed to ease away the pit with heavy help from the sudden flood inside of you that felt wrong. Felt like a swell of pressure in your nipples and clit. Like a heat sinking down into your cunt and making you want to writhe.
Were.
You were writhing. Squirming and pulling on those restraints again. Pain–there was pain. An overwhelming, encouraging pain that pushed a sound out into the room. You. That was you. That crack of a sound, a moan drawing out to the edges of pain was you.
It hurt.
Your nipples, hard peaks. Clit, throbbing with the beat of your heart. Your cunt, clenching around a nothing so apparent, you felt wasted.
One blurred being tilted their head.
A language lost to translation came as the next sound in the room.
Robes. They wore robes. Silver and white fine robes. Robes that, as one stepped forward, were opened at the front and dropped.
A slimy, slow slithering was gooey over your legs. Across your sides. Stomach. The blurs remained blurs, but there were new ones. Green. Small and large. Draped across your body and climbing up like rising water. Warm and wet, they came up. They wrapped around your nipples in a slow pinch that worsened into a point of jolting hips.
Hips held as they were by more. More parting you where everything felt hot. Where a small end nudged your clit, and the jolt of pleasure was electric.
You screamed.
Another spoke.
The one who’d dropped their robe stepped forward again.
Planting two large hands on your inner thighs, you were given just one glimpse. One stomach-dropping glimpse of the leaking cock coming to your cunt. Tentacles. They were green tentacles roaming your body, tweaking your nipples and finding a sudden, simple rhythm on your clit. Immediate attention. Immediate relief that came with none.
That cock wasn’t anything more than a sudden need the last of your rationale knew was wrong.
Someone spoke, and the figure shifted their hips. The tip of their cock pressed against your entrance with a stretch so enormous, your eyes rolled back. Then a push. No warning. No unknown language spoken again.
Just a push.
Everything shot toward that filled and stretched sensation in an instant. The silver room glowed bright as that substance dripped down your tongue. And as the fat head of their cock pushed into you, the tentacles rubbing and tweaking your nipples and clit, it was instantaneous.
You kicked. Screamed. Sobbed. Writhing around in pure blissful agony as you clamped down around just his tip, climaxing. Climaxing so hard it ripped through where your back arched, and you tried to lift your hips to get more. To get away. To do something other than succumb to the rippling pleasure gushing out around the alien's cock.
But they pushed in. Further. Deeper. Slower.
A push that pushed every blinding second of your orgasm through to the end.
A tear slipped down from the corner of one eye as you started to go limp, cunt fluttering around the cock pushing deeper, and deeper, and deeper. So deep your eyes fluttered shut before you could even blink. The pain, again, before you even tried a breath, was back.
Fluttering around their cock, it was back.
Begging.
Desperate.
They stilled, as deep inside of you as they could go, your entire body taut and shaking.
A large green hand pressed low on your belly and patted it twice.
The language was spoken again.
What you didn’t know would be the last of your sanity.
And then they moved.
Slow, deep thrusts that struck spots that had you screaming. Tears slipped, and you pulled on the cuffs. It was too much. They were so big, and the tentacles on your nipples were rolling them and the one of your clit wrapped around it in a circle, rubbing at it consistently.
The table was bolted down.
Slow and deep, but the thrusts were still rough.
At the drop of your head back and a hard, pinching pull at your nipples and your clit, their cock dragged inside of you, and something snapped. With an orgasm that came on a hard snapping thrust, with a gush around their cock, a scream erupting as pleasure took over and confiscated everything.
Something…snapped.
There was nothing, then, outside of climaxing. Being filled. Being fucked. The touches, the pleasure–your head stayed back and your back stayed arched off the table as every other thrust had you barreling toward another orgasm. And when it hit, you squirmed and moaned and lapped up what dripped down your throat.
Fucked raw.
Fucked slow and hard.
Fucked through tear-streaking orgasm after orgasm. Until the thrusts stopped with their cock nestled deep as they could go, and they came. All over you, from the ends of the tentacles, they came.
They retreated.
Then another robe dropped to the floor.
The silver room blurred into oblivion. Tears made it one glimmery silver mess with the bright lights taking everything away. Freezing air kept you shivering, and tentacles swarmed over you to pinch your nipples, to rub your clit, and stuff lower. Prodding inside your ass as another cock rammed into you.
Hard. Hard and rough and with short thrusts and hands gripping your hips with painful bruising. Or the slow ones that had you sobbing for more. To cum again. So close, yet kept on the edge. Over and over. Until short, hard thrusts were back, and you couldn’t contain it. Couldn’t hold anything back even if you’d tried.
Endless.
It was endless.
Cum dribbled out of you before more was loaded back in by another fuck. They stayed with you for an indeterminate amount of time. Was one with you only for a few minutes, and then another joined? There were times where it felt like the hammering thrusts continued and continued and continued while you came, and came, and came until you were cracking out moan after moan for a reprieve.
But they kept fucking.
And in came another climax.
Another world-breaking, mind-shattering orgasm that made you squirt around their cocks.
Full.
Both holes, so full.
They stayed as such even when you were barely conscious, barely registering the tentacles falling away and not another set coming to replace them. Heaving breath after breath, still drinking what fell down your throat, a deep tremor making you shiver uncontrollably, cold metal pressed into your cunt and your ass.
Thick.
Cold.
Smooth.
Click.
A whirring brought a chill around your cunt and over your ass. Then your hips. A little of your wait.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
A hard latching.
With a slow loss of consciousness, a void filling in where you looked down at the four figures each putting a hand on your belly. Low on your belly. There was a metal cage over your lower half. Locked with four keys tucked away into robes they wore once again.
Each gave your stomach a pat.
And then each departed.
The table whirred and hummed, vibrating beneath you. The end beneath your bottom tipped up higher. Higher. Higher, angling you to lie on your back, your hips up in the air.
An impossible heat struck where their hands were, and all you could do was blink at your belly.
Sleep claimed you right as the sleek plugs started to vibrate inside of you. One over your clit hummed to life. Your eyes fell shut and rolled back as you came.
And came.
And came.
Their ritual, as you’d later learn, for breeding.
One that continued even when you awoke naked in your bed come morning, the cage still locked on your lower half. A single note written in perfect handwriting on your nightstand. The plugs assaulting every sensitive spot and making you scream with no mask muffle your cries.
None will claim what we have as ours.
We will return at the Earth's sunset to repeat the ritual until one of us has succeeded.
You will hold in all we have given you. Your pleasure will be bountiful.
We will return.
Another orgasm slammed into you and brought your face into your pillow. You frantically reached for your nightstand clock, staring at the 6:00 mocking you with the rising sun.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
New fic alert, hot off the presses. I was thinking about that "competent person gets kidnapped and just wrecks the place" trope, but then I thought instead about Benrey getting kidnapped and just indulgently viewing the whole situation as a minor inconvenience. Plus, let's be real, Gordon probably needs to be incredibly violent at least once every six months or he'll start destroying furniture like an understimulated border collie. The whole Science Team does, for that matter. So they get to go a little feral, y'know, as a treat.
