She is walking home when a light takes her, and the aliens ravage her on the table with probes too big for her.
$name1 is walking home when a light takes her, and the aliens ravage her on the table with probes too big for her.
The street was empty.
$name1’s heels on the pavement. Short skirt. Redhead fringe in her eyes. The last bus gone. The light hit the tarmac in front of $name1 — hard, white, silent. $name1 looked up. $name1 didn’t get a second step. The ground left her.
$name1 came to on a table that wasn’t a table.
Cold. Smooth. Wrists held. The skirt already up around $name1’s waist. Nothing underneath. Tiny tits bare where the top had been opened. Thick thighs — skinny, shaking — locked apart. Figures at the edge of the room. A tray. Two probes. Both huge. Both slick.
The first one lined up with $name1’s cunt.
They pushed it in slowly. $name1’s mouth opened. The stretch was immediate — thicker than the men $name1 took at parties, ridge after ridge feeding into her until $name1’s belly felt tight. Then it started moving. Long, deep, mechanical strokes. Wet. Relentless. $name1 came on it helplessly, clenching around something that didn’t care, fringe stuck to her forehead, a broken sound the room swallowed.
They didn’t wait.
The second probe pressed against $name1’s arse. They pushed. $name1 cried out and took it, inch by inch, until both holes were full and the two shafts were fucking $name1 on different rhythms. Deep in her cunt. Shorter in her arse. $name1 came again, sloppier, dripping around both seals onto the metal. They increased the speed. The probes swelled and pumped — hot overflow in $name1’s cunt, then $name1’s arse, running down $name1’s skinny thighs onto the table.
The probes slid out.
$name1 stayed on her back with her skirt around her waist, both holes slack and open, their load already running out of $name1 in a thick mix. The light was coming back.
$name1 didn’t close her legs. $name1 lay on the table and felt empty in both places at once.