Alien: Taken - The Alien Invasion: Alien Abduction Romance

By Clara A. Tobin

If you do not stop that, I shall be forced to cage you.

Sophie
I'm really hoping it is all a bad dream. I mean, being kidnapped, caged and pleasured by aliens had to be a drunken dream, right? But then, I start to realize this is a waking nightmare. I try not to think about how alone I am in the universe, and how I'd probably never see home again.

Hagin
The human female is not to be trusted. Her scent and style of dress tell me she is aligned with the enemy. And yet, she can't be harmed. It is my mission to see her safely back home. The fate of worlds, of interstellar peace, depend on it. I will not be seduced by her beauty. Nor will her feminine wiles work their ways on me.

However, I will also not jeopardize the relationship between Sphinx and humanity before first contact can even be made. The girl will be my first priority. My only mission. And, perhaps, my undoing.

This standalone trilogy contains intense adult-level sexiness with a Sphinx warrior of the highest order. It is meant for mature readers only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clara A. Tobin
• Release date: Jan 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393429043

Book preview

Part One

Book 1: The Sphinx Invasion

Chapter One

Sophie Turner didn’t remember much about that night except that she and some friends had had a little too much to drink. Their annual trip had taken them to an isolated part of the Midwest where ancient burial grounds dotted the landscape. They’d gone hiking around the prehistoric site and taken paddleboats out on the water during the daylight hours, and then relaxed by the campfire in the evening.

The mood was light, the summer air was warm, and the drinks flowed freely once Sophie got out her guitar and started playing the handful of songs she knew. She was just learning, but these were her oldest and dearest friends. They would forgive her for making a few mistakes while trying her hand at something new.

The girls had all been roommates in college and rented a house together off campus. They’d spent two years living together in school and the six years since then catching up with their lives and each other on their annual camping trips. It was a great relief for Sophie, whose current roommate Jessie was excessively noisy, didn’t give her enough space, and was just generally overwhelming with her constant need to be at the center of attention.

The campfire was almost too hot for the summer weather, but the evening had brought with it a cool breeze, and now everyone was glad to have the extra warmth. Besides, how can you have s’mores without a campfire, as one of the women had observed. And what was camping without s’mores and booze, suggested another. In the end it was the drinking game that really did them in, though. By the time they shuffled off to their respective tents and sleeping bags, all of them were well fed…and positively smashed.

The perfect ending to a perfect day.

Or so it seemed.

The next thing Sophie could recall was a vague feeling of dreaming while awake. She had experienced drunken dreams before, though, so she went along with it. This one was really out there, though, even for a drunk dream.

She was stretched out on her back, looking up at the stars. They were moving. No. She was moving. But she had no sensation of movement. Floating then, a few feet off the ground, maybe. The moon was huge and the stars were… dazzling-and too bright.

She closed her eyes and opened them again, and now she was inside some sort of cave. The walls were thick with mud, and the ceiling had stringy roots hanging from it, as if plants living above had burrowed down through the roof in search of water. Still on her back. Still hovering. Still sleepy. Still dreaming. Dark, shadowy heads floating above her and then…just darkness.

She realized as she awoke that she was already aroused. And as she came into her body, she was able to identify why that was. Although the room was still pitch black and she could see nothing, she felt as if a million tiny hands were at work all over her, pressing into and massaging her flesh in every part of her body. Every. Part.

The motion reminded her of what she’d seen kittens do when feeding. The kneading behavior was instinctual and comforting. But these paws had no claws, just tiny fingers that splayed out across her skin, at first tenderly pushing and then gathering and pulling the flesh in gentle, rhythmic motions.

Tiny paws lined her arms and legs, which had bent themselves carelessly outward, as though her hands and knees had fallen away from each other and remained where they’d landed. All up and down her inner thighs, the tiny paws pushed in and out. They were warm and had soft, velvety pads. They began to work in unison as she became aware of their presence, these tiny hands. It was almost as if they were at a football game doing the wave. Except both of Sophie’s legs were being played, if that was the right word, in harmony. The waves began simultaneously from each of her feet and ended up rising in the middle to meet at her very core. Then the waves would travel back to her feet again, sending a new wave around the outside of her legs, stomach and chest.

Encircling the round swell of her breasts were many more pairs of hands. At least it seemed like they were working in pairs.

Seriously, what the hell was going on?

She was suspended in darkness. She could feel no table, bed, or floor beneath her, yet she was fully supported somehow. She was either blindfolded or in a completely blacked out room.

Blackout! That had to be it.

Sophie was having a blackout and this was just the bizarre turn her mind had taken while in the depths of a drunken dream. Just an exploration then. A mental exercise. A fantasy.

Cool. She could get down with that. She probably wouldn’t even remember all of this in the morning.

Tiny paws pressed down and let up on the swell of flesh just above her cusp. They kneaded the outside of her lips, sometimes pushing them apart just a little and then back again, the little knob they hid between them getting the better part of that deal.

It was enough to drive a woman crazy.

She couldn’t move though. Couldn’t. Move.

Try as she might to strain against the little paws, her body wouldn’t respond to anything she attempted to do. She was completely limp. Aware, but motionless; and absolutely tortured with pleasure.

Dear god, if they didn’t stop this soon she was going to erupt into a shower of orgasms. This. Had. To Stop.

In just. One. Minute.

She opened her mouth and tried to call out. At least she thought she opened her mouth. Could she open her mouth?

Apparently not. No part of her body would respond to her commands. Yet somehow every cell in her being seemed to be responding to the efforts of so many tiny, pleasure-giving paws.

Atop her nipples were other sets of paws. Had they climbed up there? They worked in unison to twist and squeeze her nipples, stretching them to the point of almost painful gratification, pinching until she thought she couldn’t bear it, and then releasing their hold in unison, sending shockwaves down to her belly button and into her groin.

They weren’t doing that before, were they?

No, Sophie was certain this wasn’t going on a minute ago. It was almost as if they were responding to her desires.

The little hands seemed to take an even keener interest in the swollen mound between her legs now.

Were there more of them now?

Was that even possible? Tiny paws attended to the entire area surrounding her core, eagerly pushing and spreading their tiny fingers, then pulling back and retracting them like a kitten retracts its claws. Pushing the lips apart and then smooshing them together again. Sliding them against each other over and over. Making her wet. So wet.

Eventually, they found the slick center of her sex and then began inflicting a whole new wave of torturous bliss. The velvety paws somehow turned even softer, if that were possible. They began dancing around in a very peculiar fashion, forming a line and prancing up the insides of her thighs, along the soft trench of what would normally be her panty line. Then they rounded the curve, meeting at the top of her slit and then what, flipped over? They apparently had a fuzzy side. They flipped over and rode down as if on a slide. Like she was a slide. And they just kept coming. This procession continued nonstop for seconds and then minutes, and Sophie longed to writhe in rapture as the other little hands squeezed and twisted her nipples while still others did the wave around her periphery.

But she could not writhe. Agony and ecstasy were one.

She could not speak, cry out or move. And apparently she could not have an orgasm either because there is no way she could have withstood the absolutely spellbinding gratification of a million tiny hands that do to you exactly what you wish they would for so long—not without coming all over the place.

She should get blackout drunk more often.

Although saddened to know that she would not remember any of this in the morning, Sophie relented to the merciless pleasure of it all. She relaxed into it, and let the euphoria wash over her in waves.

Chapter Two

As far as Hagin Dura was concerned, the Kerraks had been infesting the Earth with their seed for far too long now. The proud Sphinx warrior had grown up on stories of how his people used to rule the Earth, and of the gentle human population that lived there. The elders told of days when the Sphinx and humans were friends. Sphinx scientists walked the Earth and taught humans agriculture. Sphinx linguists help the humans develop a written language. In exchange, the humans had agreed to a process of genetic enhancement that would help them evolve. Making them a little bit more like their godlike friends from the sky in each subsequent generation.

In this way the galaxy was populated. This was evolution, and for the Sphinx, essential to long-term survival. Like a cooperative effort for all people to endure with the best genes intact. Spreading the seed around to many different planets lowered the risk of extinction for many species.

The ancient Pharaohs had no basis for understanding how the process worked, but their women were all properly screened and genetically altered to carry the tiny slice of Sphinx DNA that was inserted inside their eggs. Over the next several millennia, that slice would aid human evolution and lead to the development of their own technologies.

Unfortunately, however, Earth got caught up in the political fallout after the interstellar wars. Its claim changed hands between Sphinx and Kerrak rule for centuries, until finally the Treaty of Fehdril was signed and the Earth was ceded to the Kerraks permanently. Ever since, the Kerraks had been poisoning the humans with their own genetic spores, threatening to destroy the race of once proud people. Turning them slowly into a race of slaves.

Hagin cringed at the thought. His people had once been enslaved as well. Not by the Kerrak army, but by an invading species of lizard people. His catlike ancestors had fought them off, sending them back to the stars from which they’d come. That experience had cemented in his people a strong emphasis on freedom—and not just their own. They had become the valiant protectors of many oppressed races and opened the doors to trade and literacy in various parts of the galaxy.

Hagin ran a hand through his thick, blond mane and involuntarily scratched his head just above his ear. His task was not an easy one, but he was prepared. As prepared as any good soldier could be.

But Hagin Dura was much more than a soldier. On his current mission, he served as Commander of the Fifth Fleet, but his real job was to lead the main assault on the Kerrak outpost. His people had not been idle in the intervening years since the despicable Treaty of Fehdril was signed. The Sphinx people grew tired of watching one race after another fall victim to Kerrak domination. If they didn’t do something soon to stop the endless aggression, they knew it might one day be too late.

The decision was made to go out and liberate the most advanced known species, and to invite them to forge a coalition against their oppressors. Before the Sphinx themselves and their home world of Rahramhar ended up next on the Kerrak agenda.

Hagin Dura had heard many nightmarish stories of how the Kerraks infiltrated and laid waste to whole civilizations. They would start by disseminating their gene-altering spores across a planet’s atmosphere long before they arrived. Then, depending on the species, they might pose as friends or attack straight out. The weaker races fell victim too easily as the spores would already have weakened their people in both body and mind. With the stronger civilizations, the Kerraks would strike up secret deals with their leaders, appealing to their ambitions by promising advanced knowledge. Knowledge that would only come with genetic improvements, of course.

The Kerraks would then infest the planet’s underground, coming out at night to abduct citizens and mutilate the local fauna, building whole cities for themselves underground in preparation for absolute planetary domination. The genetic alterations could turn even the strongest races into Kerrak slaves, only too eager to help the invaders rob their own planet of its resources.

Commander Dura let out a short huff at the thought of such atrocities. His people were proud. He himself had been trained from birth as a liberation soldier along with tens of thousands of other Sphinx resistance fighters. He had risen through the ranks due to his physical prowess and innate leadership ability. He had made a name for himself during the skirmishes off of Caiton Four, where he’d served as a pilot. He’d managed to save three fellow warriors when their ship went down in the mountains, leading them to safety under heavy fire and returning with critical intel that shifted the balance of power in the wider conflict. His name was on the lips of every Sphinx child for many years. All Sphinx warriors regarded him as an example of greatness. After being awarded top honors from the Sphinx High Council, Hagin had been promoted quickly. Now he served directly under the Elite Commander of the Guard, and advised him on many matters of both strategy and logistics.

Commander Dura’s priorities were clear: draw the attention of the enemy fleet, and use the diversion to make contact with the humans. He would bring any humans he could find back to Rahramhar for a briefing with Premier Visal, but the first step was to destroy the Kerrak outpost on Dup’zhleo, the blue moon of Kayenna.

He advised the Fifth Fleet to go radio silent as they made their final approach.

Chapter Three

As the tiny hands retreated, a layer of cloth settled over Sophie’s skin. It was soft, silky even. Lightweight, which felt good in the summer air. Although she had to admit it was colder in this…cave? Was she still in a cave? The loss of heat from the little paws seemed to be amplified by the cool touch of the fabric, and her skin turned to gooseflesh as her nipples puckered, pushing up through the soft material into the cold room. It felt almost as if the fabric was wet, and it clung to her skin as though molded to it.

She was still panting from all the stimulation when the pull of gravity told her she was being turned upright somehow. She still could feel no bed beneath her, nor could she hear anything. No mechanical arm moving her around. No excited tittering from the tiny beasts who had gotten her so worked up. It was as if her own breathing and heartbeat were the only sounds to be heard, and she marveled at how strange it was not to hear people and traffic and the incessant trains that could be heard from anywhere in the vicinity of her home.

Then, gently, as though settling into some kind of memory foam cushion, her feet began to find support. The floor beneath her was firm but soft at the same time. And she noticed something else right away. Although she could still feel the pull of gravity, Sophie felt lighter than she could remember having felt since she was twelve. When puberty hit, she had put on a bit of extra weight and, despite her involvement in dancing and sports, had always carried it with her. She didn’t usually mind too much, but she had always noticed how much easier, how much more pleasant it was to move in the lower gravity of water. This was like that, but not as dramatic. It made her feel…buoyant.

Sophie breathed in deeply, hoping to smell something of her environment, expecting to sense the earthy dampness of a cave. Surely, this was the cave she’d been in this whole time. That was why it was so quiet. She was certain she was standing in some kind of mud. Her nose could detect nothing, however, outside of faint traces of what she thought were charcoal smoke and citrusy cleaning products.

Ah, the charcoal was from some nearby campers. And the cleaning products were probably the hand wipes in her bag.

This was all okay. Still part of the most bizarre drunk dream ever.

Hands. Large hands this time, and only two pairs of them. Soft. Were they women’s hands? They encircled her neck and then started brushing her body out from neck to shoulders and then down. They seemed to be pressing the cold, wet fabric to her form, and paid special attention to all of her curves and dimples. After smoothing the garment broadly across her back, they focused a good deal of effort on getting the outline of her nipples just right. Sophie withstood the prickling sensations that ran through her body as the fingers brushed across the tips repeatedly, drawing them outward through the garment and then patting the surrounding area to flatten the material against her exquisite breasts. They were lighter, too, in the reduced gravity, and they felt perkier as a result. Sophie grew even wetter between her legs as the sensual pat down continued. Her heart raced with anticipation, but she could not cry out.

They rubbed along the curves of her breasts and pressed the line between them, taking their time with the creases underneath and then starting again at the nipple and smoothing the fabric outward in an arc. Sophie could still hear no sound except her own breathing and her heart pounding in her ears. Once they had finished outlining in meticulous detail her breasts, shoulders, torso and hips, the hands then turned their attention to the throbbing mound between her legs.

Sophie twitched as the cold material was pressed down on top of her hot flesh, and suddenly realized, with great pleasure and simultaneous agony, that she was hairless down there. Completely. So she felt the icy fabric all the more hotly and sucked in a sharp breath as the hands went to work.

One hand cupped her pulsating core, the heel of it pushing upward from below, separating her legs where they met, the delicate fingertips at the top defining her slit. Two other hands pulled her ankles outward, and Sophie discovered her feet slid easily along the muck. She let her legs slip more and more widely apart as she was coaxed. The cold material shocked her as it began to settle deeper into her folds. The hands laid dainty fingers against the cloth, tracing the lines on both sides and in between her lips. Outlining her every dip and fold front and back until Sophie wanted to explode.

Both sets of hands then pressed themselves around her thighs. Pulling down in unison, they carefully molded the slinky textile to her legs and then her knees. Before they finished up with her fingers and toes, the hands encouraged Sophie to lean back. She found herself situated on a bicycle seat of sorts, with a narrow cushioned board up the back side to support her torso and head. Just then, the hands began to plaster the fabric down around her forearms. When they arrived at the hands and then the fingertips, Sophie felt sudden waves of energy up her arms as they fitted the material to her skin. The pulsing between her legs, which had continued uninterrupted for what seemed like an hour, was now joined by the electrifying currents being sent up her arms. When the fingertips were at last complete, the hands went to work on the lower legs and feet in much the same manner, with one notable exception.

Sophie wasn’t all that ticklish, but there was one place that would always get her, and that was anywhere near her feet. She might have been scarred for life as a toddler, the age popular with adults who liked to play This Little Piggy, tickling the toes of unfortunate little girls until they peed their training pants. She wasn’t sure. But she did know that when those hands got to her toes, she was likely to kick whoever it was in