Author's note:
Hello all! Before you begin this story, I would like to preface it by saying that it contains some light sci-fi themes. Nothing too crazy, but definitely different than some of my previous work. I kept it as mild as I could, but if you want a story that takes place on Earth, this is not that story.
Thank you to everyone who clicked, I sincerely hope you enjoy.
-CK
"Where am I?"
That might be one of the worst things that one can think upon waking up. It's a thought that usually lasts for only a second or two, but sometimes - in the worst situations - it lingers for much longer.
"Where the
fuck
am I?" I cursed.
I did not usually sleep in a curled-up position, and it was even less frequent that I found myself locked inside a large, metal cage, but that morning, I experienced both.
I kicked my legs outward as soon as I was conscious in an attempt to stretch out my tired limbs, but my feet slammed into a wall of steel bars. I lashed out with my feet as hard as I could, trying to bend the metal pillars, but found no success.
I took a second to absorb my surroundings for the first time. That was when, to my horror, I saw my own mother asleep in the cage next to me. She was curled up in the same manner that I had been. Even with hair covering her face, I knew it was her.
I kicked the bars to get her attention. "Mom! Wake up!"
She did not stir.
Mom was wearing an outfit I had never seen before. She usually dressed quite modestly, offering not even a hint of the body beneath her clothing.
The only thing covering her breasts was a strip of cloth that was barely enough material to fit around her large breasts. The white cloth was pulled so tightly to her body that her nipples — each a firm, tiny peak — poked noticeably through the fabric.
It struck me at that moment that I'd never once thought about where, precisely, my mother's nipples were located upon her breasts; as I said, I'd never been given the slightest hint. Having received my very first one, I found it impossible to stop myself from conjuring to mind the image of her naked breasts — one that was frighteningly accurate, given how much of them I could already see.
An equally scant portion of cloth covered Mom's lower half. Without having to bend my neck, it was clear that she was not wearing any underwear. The swell of her pussy lips were white and puffy, like a plump hotdog bun, poking out from between her thighs.
I chastised myself for even noticing. That shame arrived in my stomach alongside the guilt when I realized how thoroughly turned on I was, all thanks to Mom's vulva.
My mom was no slouch. She was not some fantasy runway model, but when compared with any other woman her age—or half her age, for that matter—I found her positively incomparable.
Huge breasts, a plump ass, and a slightly chubby belly — they had all become the gold standard by which I had judged any woman I'd met, and none of them had held a candle to my mom.
In my adolescence, her long, vivacious blonde hair had set the stage for me to fall in love with one type of woman: blondes. Even when I had turned eighteen and entered university, I sought only golden-haired bombshells that had reminded me of home, and what - or whom - I'd been missing.
I called out to Mom again, that time provoking a small stir. I shouted a second time, even louder, and she finally lifted her head.
She wiped drool from the corner of her mouth. "W-where are we?"
Just as I had, Mom went through the realization process, and came to terms with our predicament. She kicked at the door to her cage in protest - like mother, like son. She succeeded in rattling the lock, but nothing more. We were trapped, with nothing left to do but to take in our surroundings.
Considering the primitive cages - their owners apparently keen to treat us like animals — the room was surprisingly tidy. There was no smell — not even that of a familiar cleaning agent, whose lingering aroma might have implied some nefarious purpose that needed to be washed away and covered up. Instead, the complete lack of any detectable aroma made our surroundings feel all the more foreign. Even the panic-induced sweat forming across my hairline lacked the pungent, salty scent that I ought to have been able to smell.
The room was deadly silent, with the exception of Mom and my frantic breathing. The whole room was suspended in a void; nothing outside existed. There were no windows, no pictures, and no clock.
I could not spot a single pot light, lamp, or lantern illuminating the room, yet I could see everything with perfect clarity. It was as though the very essence of light was being emitted from every atom in the room, replacing conventional lighting techniques with something that was, in a word, impossible.
Mom read my mind. "What is this place?"
"The last thing I remember was bringing you a towel by the pool. It was nighttime, I think, and then there was this—"
We chimed, in unison, "Bright light."
Mom's eyes were riddled with horror. "Honey..."
"I know, Mom. Where the fuck
are
we?"
A voice spoke calmly over the apparently invisible loudspeakers in the room. It said,
"You are safe."
The sound came from everywhere at once, as though it was being streamlined directly into my brain.
"Safe is not a place," I countered.
"You are
safe,
" the voice repeated more definitively. It was neither male nor female.
From straight through the wall opposite us, where I could see no door or entrance of any kind, a humanoid figure simply floated. The wall remained intact — it did not crumble or break — but it allowed the being to phase through it as though it were nothing more than a projection.
The figure was a man, about six feet tall, wearing nothing more than a white smock that additionally covered his hands and feet. At least, that's what my eyes told me. My brain—my instincts, my gut feeling—told me that he — it — was anything but. That suspicion drove my first question.
"What are you?" I did not bother to ask 'who.'
I readied myself for that same freakishly ambiguous voice to come out of its mouth, but was disarmed to find that The Man spoke with a tone and cadence that made it sound like he came from a human resources department in Connecticut. First, he turned his entire body to face me, and lean forward as he said, "Hello, good morning."
Then, he did the same to Mom - quite literally. He rotated his body about fifteen degrees so he could face her cage, and bowed to greet her. "Hello, good morning."
"It's morning? What time is it?" I intentionally made my voice sound foggy and confused, but I was on the hunt for answers.
"I do not know," The Man responded with a charming smile. "It is simply a greeting that I thought you may be familiar with." His answer was haunting, but his grin was so sincere that a little piece of me could not help but buy into it.
"You have been taken," he continued. "You are ours."
"Ours?" Mom whimpered fearfully.
"Yes. You are now a member of the..." The Man's eyes fluttered around the room for a couple of seconds, like a computer processing information before it spat out something useful. "... The Covenant, yes. I apologize for the delay; I am still in the process of translating your language."
"English?" I asked.
