“Is there anything else you would like to know? I will answer any question you have with absolute truth. It is my duty.” The creature said.
“No questions. Let’s get this show on the road.” No sooner had her consent been given, the procedure was begun. The creature approached her slowly, sending out a calming message. It then pulled the sheets off her, gently spread her legs further apart and carefully inserted a thin, long pen-like probe into her vagina. The procedure took no more time and provided no greater discomfort than the insertion of a tampon, or of spermicidal cream prior to intercourse. Then the creature vanished, and the paralysis was lifted; the subliminal humming and eerie light were gone, though the faint smell of ozone still lingered in the room as a last tangible reminder of her ordeal.
The first thought that occurred to Lisa was, “What a vivid dream.” But she could not so easily dismiss the experience, first because it had been too real, and second, because she could still feel the recent intrusion into her cervix, however gently accomplished.
She rose from her soaked bed, feeling a numbing chill in a body that still ached from atrophied, tight muscles only now beginning to slowly release. Her heart still beating loudly in her ears, she moved as swiftly as the prickly feeling in her unsure extremities would allow, feeling as though tiny needles coursed through her veins as the circulation was restored to her numbed extremities. Reaching the bathroom, she turned on the water in her shower and let it run hot until it steamed the full-length mirror behind the bathroom door, the reflection of her trim, perfect body slowly fading into the mist, though not before eliciting an appreciative smile from Lisa.
As she turned to get into the shower, she heard what appeared to be conversation from the apartment next door. To be more accurate, she sensed the conversation, or rather the disjointed monologue, inside her head. Words and images about work, power, fear, and a breakfast cereal incongruously raced through her mind like some deranged medley of a half dozen Fellini movie trailers streaming simultaneously on fast-forward. Then the mental cacophony began to clear she recognized Harry, her next-door neighbor, his lathered face reflecting off an unfamiliar medicine cabinet mirror, startling her in its unexpected clarity. “He must be shaving,” she thought with an exhilarating smile parting her lips. “Must have been thinking of the new advertising campaign he’s pitching this week. It really works; I’ve got to learn to use it, but it definitely works,” she added. She then quickly showered and got out of the shower stall radiating confidence, aching to take her new powers out for a spin.
As she toweled herself dry in front of the full-length mirror, she smiled again appreciatively at the lithe, firm body reflected there. She was thirty-five years old, just past the peak of what she knew had been unusual beauty. Her shoulder length auburn hair would have shown a few streaks of gray, had she not meticulously hidden these for the past few years. A firm tummy and buttocks reflected back at her, as she assayed her body in the mirror, not a hint of cellulite visible on her dancer’s legs. “Not bad, earth mother,” she thought, finally getting into her clothes with unusual speed. She then added as an afterthought, “Gotta start thinking about a breast job soon.” Her appearance had been of great importance to her most of her life, not merely out of vanity, although she was not exempt from that particular character flaw, but because she knew her looks and had helped her career. She was one of the lucky beautiful people whom others always strive to please. Though competent and self-assured, she was not above using any means available to her to ensure her success. Madison Avenue ground up fresh talent into hamburger meat daily, and she had no intention of ever being on anyone’s menu. Looks were important in advertising agencies, especially for upwardly mobile female executives on the fast track to a meeting with the glass ceiling. She always figured that if she were traveling fast enough, that ceiling would not bear the force of her inertia. Now, she was certain it would not. Who could compete with a bright, energetic advertising executive who could read clients’ and competitors’ minds? She could barely contain her excitement. This would be almost too easy, like taking the proverbial candy from unsuspecting babies. “And health for life to boot,” she thought. “What a deal!”
Over the next six weeks, Lisa found herself in the president’s office of her advertising agency, seated in a thickly cushioned leather chair that would be hers just long enough to get her to the next stepping stone. A number of unexpected resignations in the chain of command, coupled with her bringing on board three new multi-million-dollar accounts in a two-week period had precipitated her unprecedented rise from a junior executive to C.E.O. in the batting of an eye. Over the next year, she would position herself as the nominee for senator of New York, opposing a lackluster, vulnerable junior senator with an unspectacular record who proved to be no Hillary Clinton. She might not even have to see to it that the senator resign; an outright victory would be much more satisfying and politically useful. The white house would come easily after that; she just needed to bide her time as her star rose above the horizon in all its blazing glory.
As the end of the sixth week dawned, and she had learned to master her new power, she became aware of a new voice attempting to establish communication with her, first through flashes of incomprehensible images and feelings, and then, after a link was established, through more understandable means. At first, Lisa was confused and apprehensive; but she soon realized the source of these attempts at communication must be the new consciousness of the gestating being she was carrying. Over the next several days, she tried to communicate with the diminutive growth in her womb, so small as to still be unnoticeable to anyone but her and reassure it that all would be well. During this time, she understood the need for her willful acceptance of the being. Despite the alien’s proclaimed need to obtain her consent before using her as a surrogate mother for the “child,” it would have been impossible for them to force her to carry it to term without her consent. She could have aborted it at any time or could now refuse it the mental reassurance it required. She only wished that she’d been less hasty in her acceptance, that she had elicited more information about these beings. Why were they here? Where did they come from? What would become of the nascent life she carried upon its birth? Why had all of their females died?
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Lisa’s train of thought was derailed by a phone call from the local party official, returning her call. Yes, the Senator was vulnerable. The opposition was eager to have a strong candidate to oppose her, but none had yet been found. A lunch meeting was arranged, and Lisa knew before hanging up the phone that the Senate was hers. Not long to wait now. Not long at all.
That evening, Lisa felt restless and uneasy. Her surrogate child had been demanding more and more of her attention, communicating incomprehensible feelings and needs that she could neither comprehend nor fill. Around midnight, she awoke from a restless sleep and found herself once again gripped by an inexplicable terror, as though something were reaching deep within the well of her subconscious mind and drawing out deeply repressed primal fears that she could neither comprehend nor dismiss. Her instincts told her to run, but her body failed to respond, as she found herself once again completely paralyzed as she had been that night six weeks ago upon her first encounter with the alien. No humming was present now, no scent of thunderstorms and no blue-green glow. Only her blinding fear was the same, as was the sound of her blood swishing in her ears.
Time passed; it might have been a few minutes or several hours, Lisa could not tell. She began to feel some discomfort similar to menstrual cramps. These turned to mild contractions, and she felt the creature being naturally expelled from her body in a matter of minutes. A new life had come to this world unassisted and was quietly struggling to climb closer to its mother. The process was slow, but the diminutive being was determined to succeed. It slowly climbed over Lisa’s pelvis and rested on her tummy from its Herculean effort. After some time passed, it continued pulling its six-inch form steadily towards Lisa’s face. It was still covered in blood, but Lisa could not detect an umbilical cord. She was fascinated by this almost human-looking, tiny child with a grey complexion and huge almond-shaped eyes, and yet she continued gripped by an irrational fear and along with the irresistible paralysis.
The diminutive being continued its slow progress over Lisa’s body, coming to rest between her perfect breasts, sending out in unclear pictures an urgent message she could not comprehend. It felt some need; it required something from her, but she could not tell exactly what. Its large eyes stared at her, its mouth unmoving, clearly exhausted from its exertion. After a short time, its eyes closed, and it seemed to sleep. At least Lisa hoped it was asleep as her maternal instincts made her yearn to assist and the helpless creature, to draw it to her, to hold and comfort it and find out what it needed. But she could not move, still gripped by the discomfiting paralysis that left her able to move and focus her eyes only imperfectly.
After the passage of some time, Lisa could not tell whether it was a few minutes or an hour, the diminutive being began to crawl toward her left breast. The fully formed, small scale copy of the other androgynous alien she had met some six weeks prior looked at her, still trying to express itself in messages that were incomprehensible, and then finally sending her a single clear word: “Eat.” That broke her heart. She knew that the creature’s fast development was not echoed by her body as her breasts had not yet developed and she certainly could not offer it her mother’s milk. She tried to send the creature a mental reassurance that she would help it, not to be afraid. She would find what it needed and provide it when the paralysis lifted which she assumed would be soon. The creature stared at her awhile, seemingly attentive, holding her gaze with its large, black, pupil-less eyes in its diminutive smooth ashen face. Then it smiled at her, as if understanding her mental reassurance, and sent her some unintelligible messages she could not decode while peering at her above her left breast. After a moment, the creature moved up to the apex of her breast and flicked out a black tongue that lightly licked her cold-hardened nipple, as Lisa looked on, her mind enfolded by an incomprehensible terror at that gentle touch as the creature, apparently satisfied by its brief probing, allowed its lips to retract further back in what might be a growing smile, opening its mouth wide to reveal two rows of red, needle-pointed, serrated teeth, with which it enveloped Lisa’s left nipple and bit down hard, tearing out Lisa’s flesh and chewing contentedly. Then, after greedily licking up the free-flowing blood, it flicked its tongue deeply into the small wound to further stimulate fresh blood flow, taking another hungry bite. “Food good,” it sent, in a clear message, its own telepathy growing in proportion with its strength and increasing mass, fed by the flesh of its earth mother who searched within the far recesses of her soul for a heart wrenching scream that could find no release through her frozen vocal cords.