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Alien Deceptions [MultiFormat]
eBook by Regina Paul

eBook Category: Erotica/Erotic Science Fiction/Romance
eBook Description: Blurb: Terror stalks Angel's nights as she waits to be abducted again. During the day she researches, and interviews other alien abductees. Into her waking nightmare steps a gorgeous stranger. Does he have the answers she's looking for? The answer is beyond her wildest imaginings, and could be either her salvation and a chance at true love, or her death. Excerpt: Eyes bored into her back. She felt them burning twin holes there; it didn't take a rocket scientist to know the man still stood behind her. Is he Tom, or is he one of the numerous government types with their trendy, yet nondescript clothes who follow me no matter how hard I try to conceal my identity? She found them worse than the visitors and just as tenacious. Ever since her parents had been abducted and not returned, the government had taken a keen interest in her life. She did her research under an alias, but she felt fairly certain the government types had discovered that long ago. Still as long as they didn't interfere, she was willing to let bygones be bygones. Putting the bowl down Angel stole another look and saw the man had left. That could only mean one thing, he wasn't her contact, but one of the government's many peons. Damn! She didn't need this right now when she tried to do research. Where the hell is Tom? I have to get out of here! The market might be public, but she didn't want to put her contact under the gun either. She turned and promptly ran into the man observing her. "Excuse me." She mumbled, trying to get around him. God he's big! "Are you Angel Whitedove?"

eBook Publisher: Eternal Press/Damnation Books LLC/Eternal Press, Published: 2010, 2010
Fictionwise Release Date: June 2010

39 Reader Ratings:
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* * * *

They were back! What did they want this time? She felt paralyzed as ice water crept through her veins. Her muscles refused to cooperate. She wanted to run, to hide, anything but this awful feeling of being unable to move. No! No! Not again! I don't want to go with you! As usual her wants weren't taken into account, and the familiar process began to take place.

The blinding white light, common to these experiences, spilled into the room from one window on the west wall. The foot of her bed faced the opposing wall in an attempt to deter her tormentors, in the hopes that she could deter them.

Wolf howled in the back yard, and his chain rattled in an attempt to get to her. There would be no protection this night. They found her again. No matter how many times she moved, they found her. The recent move to Portland, Oregon was no exception. For a year she felt safe. Now it didn't matter; it was all starting again.

Her body felt light and she levitated off the bed. The blood stilled in her veins, her body growing stiffer. The sensation of fight or flight took over, but she had no energy to follow through with it.

A small scraping sound to her left, she turned her eyes, the only thing she could move in that direction. The window opened by itself. A blue beam with her torturers, tiny, hairless gray beings with large black eyes flowed into the room. She shut her eyes; she didn't want to see them. They removed her blankets, and their hands guided her body.

Their grainy, leathery hands felt so cold she shivered involuntarily. She hated it when they touched her. Caught in the blue beam she looked up to see something she had hoped never to see again. Her body floated out the open window and then up, up, up toward the waiting craft.

Her back brushed the top of the cedar tree in her back yard. She knew which tree because she could smell its calming scent. Far below her, Wolf had ceased his howling, but she could still hear his whimpers as though from far away. Tears that wouldn't fall grew in the corners of her eyes. I should never have tied Wolf up in the backyard. If she had kept him with her maybe she wouldn't be about to suffer this again.

Unable to resist she opened her eyes just in time to see the bottom of the craft open up before she floated inside. Terror moved through her, making her previous fear seem as nothing. What are they going to do this time? What tests will they perform? Will they return me to my home, or will I disappear from Earth never to be seen again? The not knowing what to expect was the worst. The only thing certain with these experiences was it would be extremely painful both psychologically and physically. Everything else about the experiences depended on the tormentors.

She opened her eyes and looked around. I must've blacked out again. She wiggled her fingers and attempted to pick up her hands, but found she couldn't. They had put her wrists in restraints. She tried to lift one of her legs and found her ankles restrained as well.

They removed my clothes again! It was one of the worst things about the experiences. She had nothing, nothing. No way to protect herself. No way to run. No way to escape. It always felt the same, trapped like a rat in a maze with nowhere to hide.

Huge black tilted eyes that almost encompassed the entire width of an overly large gray skull peered down at her. She found she couldn't look away.

"Don't be afraid. We will not hurt you." An almost mechanical voice touched her mind.

"Leave me alone! Let me go!"

"You are special. You are one of our chosen ones. Only you and others like you can help save your planet," the voice continued as though she wasn't trying to resist.

In some dim corner of Angel's mind she knew she had been told this before. In fact they used telepathy as their main communication at the beginning of an experience. They tried to distract her from what they did. She remembered this from the other times. They'd speak to her in her mind, telling her how special she was and how what they were doing to her would help them save her world. It was all lies. She knew what they were doing, and she knew it was wrong.

She felt their leathery hands on her stomach. She tried to look down, but the alien's black eyes wouldn't let her. A sharp agonizing pain in her stomach below her navel told her they performed a familiar procedure. They performed their pregnancy test by inserting a large needle about a quarter inch around into her ovaries to extract eggs. Why they called it a pregnancy test, she had never been able to figure out.

Some small part of her mind grasped weakly at the idea; there was something here she wasn't remembering, something important.

"You are feeling no pain, no pain." The alien's telepathic words interrupted her thought processes.

"No pain, my ass!"

For some reason, her tormentors thought if they told her there'd be no pain, it'd somehow miraculously disappear. What a crock! She always felt the pain of their procedures.

The agony escalated to enormous proportions and Angel's mind, in an effort to escape, blacked out. At least she always felt this is what happened. She could never be sure if the pain or the being, who kept her distracted, put the suggestion into her mind.

When Angel Whitedove opened her eyes, it was starting again. Her stomach hurt badly. She pulled her legs up and held herself in a fetal position. They had returned. She groaned softly and realized she couldn't run this time. She had nowhere to go. They always found her in the end. It might take them a year or so, but they always found her. Now that they had, she knew the sleepless nights, the nightmares, and the silent horror would start all over again.

Her mouth felt like the inside of an old shoe and tasted like one too. A wild shiver moved through her. She looked down and saw that she was naked. They hadn't bothered to redress her this time. Carefully she sat up and examined her stomach. She saw a small, red puncture wound just below her navel. It hadn't just been a bad dream then. They had really found her again. Damn!

Angel reached up to brush long strands of dark hair away from her face, and her hand came away with small sprigs of cedar. She pulled the cedar from her hair and rose from the bed. She looked around for her robe but couldn't find it. Her tormentors must have decided to keep it for a souvenir. Taking a deep breath to clear the cobwebs from her mind, she crossed to her dresser and pulled a clean t-shirt and underwear out and put them on. She knew from experience she needed to get out her Polaroid camera and take a picture of the small puncture wound on her stomach because it'd disappear by early afternoon.

Angel despondently wandered into the kitchen for a plastic bag to put the cedar twigs in. She knew they weren't really proof but like the puncture wound they were the only tangible evidence that the visitors had found her yet again.

She felt like crying. What good would that do? As a child when she had first begun to remember the horrible experiences she'd cry for days after being taken, her father really the only person able to console her. But her father was no longer with her. She had no one to hold her and tell her everything would be ok. Angel made sure of it. She allowed none close to her so no one could be touched by the visitors as she had been. She didn't want the responsibility.

The Polaroid camera positioned, her shirt lifted and the panties lowered she took several pictures of the puncture mark on her stomach. The journal lay open to a new page with the date written at the top, and the bag of cedar taped to it. There was room for at least one of the Polaroid pictures beneath it. The other two pictures along with a few of the sprigs of cedar would be placed in a safety deposit box at her bank along with a second copy of the journal. She'd deposit the pages with the experience along with them later in the day. She had learned one thing in investigating this phenomenon, the visitors weren't above stealing evidence. She always made sure she had two sets; one locked away safely where they hopefully couldn't get to it.

Fortunately, they hadn't tampered with her coffee maker and the required two hot cups waited for her just as she had set the timer to do. Standing at the counter she looked out the window at what promised to be another sunny but cool day. Spring in Oregon could be incredibly fickle, boasting sunshine in the morning and black roiling clouds filled with rain by afternoon. Angel didn't mind though, she loved Oregon. She found it worth all the rain to have the beautiful green everywhere. She found the trees, the flowers, and the grass all so colorful this time of year. I should never have left.

Angel stood on tiptoe to reach up and grab a mug out of the cupboard above and to the left of her sink. She poured herself a mug of caffeine fortification and added cream and sugar before she turned and walked to the table to record the events of last evening in what she privately called her "tormentor journal." She needed to get it all down while it remained fresh in her mind, at least what she could readily recall. Later she'd transcribe her notes into her computer and take the printed pages to be added to her typed version of the journal ensconced in her safety deposit box at her local U.S. Bank. She could never be too sure with the visitors.

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