I Was Abducted for My Alien Doctor's Hands-On Research

A crushing weight and a blinding light were the first things to register. They weren't separate sensations, but a single, overwhelming experience pressing down on me, squeezing the air from my lungs and bleaching all thought from my mind. I was floating in a thick, pressurized haze, a place without up or down, only the constant hum that vibrated deep in my skull.

Slowly, consciousness seeped back in, bringing with it the cold. It was a sharp, invasive chill that started at my back and spread through my limbs, a stark contrast to the formless pressure. My mind grasped for something solid, a memory, a reason. Hospital. The thought was a weak flicker. There must have been an accident.

I tried to shift, to sit up, but my body wouldn't obey. My wrists and ankles were held fast. I pulled, a frantic, jerky motion, and felt smooth, cool material bite into my skin. Not fabric. Not leather. Something else. Something dense and unyielding. Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through the fog. I yanked again, harder this time, my muscles straining against the bonds. They didn’t give. Not even a millimeter.

My eyes flew open. The light was still painfully bright, but it was no longer a formless glare. It emanated from the very surfaces around me. I was in a room, if you could call it that. It was white. An impossible, seamless white that curved into itself, leaving no corners, no edges, no definition. It was like being inside a polished eggshell. A sterile, silent tomb.

Except it wasn't silent. The hum was still there, a low, resonant frequency that I could feel in my teeth, in the marrow of my bones. It was the sound of immense, contained power. It was the sound of a machine, something far beyond any technology I knew.

This wasn't a hospital.

The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow, stealing what little breath I had left. Hospitals have corners. They have beeping machines and the smell of antiseptic. They don't hum in a way that makes your skeleton vibrate.

I twisted my head, the cool metal of the table I was lying on slick against my cheek. My body was completely bare. Exposed. Every inch of me was on display, held down on this slab like a piece of meat in a butcher’s shop. The clinical cold, the stark white emptiness, the inescapable hum—it all screamed one impossible, terrifying truth. I was somewhere else entirely. And I was not alone. The feeling was absolute, a primal certainty that I was being watched. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, useless drum against the deep, steady thrum of the room. I was trapped. A specimen pinned to a board, waiting for the collector to arrive.

A section of the white wall in front of me rippled, like heat haze off asphalt, then dissolved into nothing. Two figures stepped through the opening, which sealed itself behind them with the same silent fluidity. They moved with an eerie grace, their long limbs carrying them across the floor without a single sound to disturb the room’s constant hum.

They were tall, impossibly slender, their bodies encased in sleek, silver-gray uniforms that clung to their frames. Their skin, where it was visible at their necks and on their three-fingered hands, was a pale, opalescent white, shimmering with faint hints of pink and blue under the sterile light. But it was their faces that held me captive, that froze the scream in my throat. They had no discernible nose or mouth, only a smooth, elegant expanse of that pearlescent skin. And their eyes. They were huge, dark, and almond-shaped, like pools of liquid night. They weren't cruel or angry. They were worse. They were intelligent, analytical, and utterly detached.

One of them stood back, observing, while the other glided closer to the table. This one was marginally taller, their posture radiating an air of authority. I immediately dubbed them ‘the Lead’. They stopped just a few feet away, their dark eyes sweeping over me. It wasn't a glance; it was a methodical inventory. The gaze traveled from my face, down my neck, across my chest. I felt it like a physical touch, a cold, clinical assessment that made every nerve ending fire. My muscles tensed, my stomach clenched. The gaze lingered on my abdomen, then lower, over my hips and groin, completely unhurried, before continuing down my legs to my feet. I was nothing more than an object on the table, a collection of parts to be catalogued. My nakedness had never felt so profound, so absolute.

Then, a voice spoke, not in the room, but inside my head. It was a soft, synthesized sound, perfectly level and devoid of any emotion. The intrusion was so complete, so violating, it was worse than any physical touch.

You are a biological specimen. You have been selected for physiological study.

The words were just… there. Planted in my consciousness. I flinched, a useless jerk against my restraints. My mind recoiled, trying to push the voice out, but it was like trying to stop your own thoughts.

The Lead’s dark eyes remained fixed on mine, watching my reaction with that same unnerving stillness.

Resistance is illogical. It will only result in discomfort. Your compliance will ensure the procedures are conducted with maximum efficiency and minimal distress to your systems.

There was no threat in the voice, no malice. It was a simple statement of fact. A promise. I was their experiment, and my only choice in the matter was how much I was willing to suffer. The cold dread that washed over me was so intense it almost felt hot, a flush of pure, helpless terror. I stared back into those bottomless black eyes, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against the unyielding hum of the room.

The Lead raised one of their long, three-fingered hands. Without a sound, an articulated arm descended from the seamless white ceiling, a device on its end that looked like a shower head made of polished black glass. It stopped a foot above my forehead. I braced myself for pain, for a shock, for anything, but all that came was light.

A beam of sapphire blue light shone down, passing through my skull. There was no heat, no pressure, just a bizarre tingling sensation, like my brain was being submerged in carbonated water. I felt… seen. Not just my skin and bones, but the gray matter within, the electrical sparks of my own panicked thoughts. On a translucent screen that materialized next to the Lead, I saw a ghostly, three-dimensional image of my own head taking shape, glowing with intricate neural pathways.

The device began to move slowly down the length of the table, its beam changing color as it went. Emerald green light passed through my chest, and I felt a strange vibration in my lungs with every breath. I watched, mesmerized and horrified, as the screen mapped my ribcage, my heart beating in a frantic, perfect rhythm, my pulmonary system branching out like a tree. Every part of me was being deconstructed, catalogued, and displayed. The sheer, absolute intimacy of it was a violation deeper than any physical touch could ever be.

As the scanner slid lower, its light shifted to a deep, burning crimson. It passed over my stomach, my intestines, and then my hips. I squeezed my eyes shut, my jaw tight. I didn't want to see this part. I didn't want to watch them map the one part of me that felt the most private. But I couldn't stop the feeling. The light sank through my skin, through the muscle and tissue, a warm, penetrating sensation that made my stomach clench. It felt like it was tracing the path of every vein, every nerve ending.

I felt the blood rush there, a hot, uncontrollable tide. My body, that traitorous bastard, was responding to the intense, focused attention. My penis, limp with fear only moments before, began to thicken and stir against my thigh. A deep, burning shame washed over me. I was their lab rat, and I was getting hard while they took pictures of my insides.

My eyes snapped open, tearing away from the screen to glare at the Lead. I wanted to see disgust, or cold indifference. Anything but what I found. The alien’s head was tilted slightly, their huge, dark eyes fixed on the translucent display where a perfect, detailed rendering of my pelvic region was now rotating in space. They weren't just looking. They were studying it. Their focus was absolute, their posture radiating an intensity that went beyond clinical analysis. It was… fascination. A focused, rapt attention that bordered on reverence. They watched the blood flow increase on their display, watched my anatomy respond to their scan, and their expression held not a trace of judgment, only profound, unwavering interest.

A strange, defiant spark ignited in the pit of my stomach, a flicker of heat that had nothing to do with shame. My fear was still there, a cold weight in my gut, but now it was joined by something else. A wild, reckless curiosity. I was a specimen, yes. But to this being, I was a fascinating one. And as the scan completed its pass and the light finally winked out, leaving me trembling and semi-aroused on the cold table, I met the Lead’s gaze, and for the first time, I wasn’t just their prisoner. I was part of the experiment.