DARK SUNSET by Mort

Book One: Part Three


The eighteen men who formed Skinner's group were left alone in the huge room and over the next couple of days were gradually joined by dozens of new captives. The arrivals all had similar tales of having been in larger groups that had been whittled down by the Albrecx's barbaric selection process. Like Skinner's group, the arrivals were all middle-aged but fit and healthy. None of them had visible flaws and as a rule they were muscular and toned.

For three days they were ignored by the Albrecx. They were neither fed nor given any means other than shared body heat to combat the chill of the metallic room.

It was enough time for the stronger minded individuals to recover their equilibrium and begin to get over the shock-induced apathy that had controlled them. While some of the captives seemed to sink further into a melancholy, self-pitying depression, others began to group together and discuss possible methods of escaping the ship or overcoming the guards.

Skinner was one of the latter.

"There's no point sitting here like lambs waiting to be slaughtered," he argued to those men who would listen. "They may be large and armed but we outnumber them. If we work together and charge them as a group we could overcome them and get out of here."

"They'd just burn us alive," someone argued.

"Not all of us," Skinner replied. "Of course they're going to manage to kill the people who lead the charge but they can't kill us all. We can use our greater numbers to our advantage."

"That's all very well for the survivors, but who's volunteering to lead the attack? It's signing your own death warrant," Skinner's detractor pointed out.

Skinner straightened his shoulders and glared in the direction of the voice. His vision was still too blurry to make out the man's features but his own cold glare of contempt was crystal clear.

"Some things are more important than individual survival. Our own lives aren't the issue here. We are all employees of the United States Government and we are all sworn to serve and protect the people of our country. God only knows what is happening down on the ground, but whatever *is* happening it's important that it isn't done in ignorance. People need to know what they are dealing with.

"We've met the Albrecx. We know they consider humans to be no more than disposable cattle and they have clearly told us that they intend to kill ninety-nine percent of the population.

"It's our duty to try and escape to warn the rest of the world about what's going on and to help them defend themselves as well as possible."

To Skinner's relief and satisfaction, a number of his fellow captives nodded in agreement of his sentiments.

"I'm with you, Skinner. Name's Farrand, former-special services. Let's kick some alien ass."

Skinner grinned at Farrand. He was a hulking man in his fifties. Except for a slight paunch, his body was buff enough to shame a man half his age and even with Skinner's handicapped vision he could see that Farrand's eyes sparkled with intelligence. A good man to have at anyone's back, Skinner decided.

For the next few hours they discussed their options, trying to devise an attack formation that would give them the maximum chance of success with the minimum amount of casualties. Skinner took that time to mentally separate the wolves from the sheep.

He discarded over two dozen of the captives as being either too shell-shocked or self-interested to be anything but a liability. Some part of him wished he could put them first in the firing line so that the survivors would be the ones most likely to do some good if they managed to escape the ship.

There was no strategy that could achieve success that way, though, so he resigned himself to accept the fact that the highest fatalities would be among the bravest men. He had no illusions that he himself would survive, but as he had stated, this was no longer just about their own welfare but the survival of the entire human race.

They plotted for so long that by the time the door appeared to announce the arrival of the Albrecx, it was almost anti-climatic to see that yet again the aliens had only sent a dozen guards to control over a hundred captives.

Skinner led the charge himself and was unsurprised to be immediately shot with one of the blue rays from the laser guns. As he waited for the flames to engulf him, his only prayer was that sufficient men would survive to take down the bastard who had killed him.

Except the bastard hadn't killed him, he quickly realized with horror. The blue ray wasn't a flame, it was some form of paralyzing device.

The Albrecx waited until all of the captives were caught in the invisible web and then the chief guard stepped forward, a cold smile on his face.

"In a few moments I will give an instruction for you to be released. When that happens, the beasts at the front of the room will move to the left wall, those at the back will move to the right."

He gave a signal to the other aliens and the paralyzing beam dispersed.

Skinner, Farrand and the other men who had led the attack moved to the left wall, their faces bitter. The men who had hung back, too afraid to charge, moved gratefully to the apparent safety of the right side of the room.

"Thank you," the Albrecx said, his eyes glinting with mockery. "It was important for us to know which of you cattle were tractable and which of you are too potentially aggressive to keep."

He turned towards the captives who were cowering against the right wall.

"We will keep you as Studs," he announced. "Form a single line and you will be taken to your new quarters."

Skinner watched in disgust as he saw the 'Studs' filing out of the room, murmuring their relief, then he turned proudly to face the Albrecx.

"I'd rather be dead than live because I'm a coward like them," he announced.

The alien just smiled and stepped back to avoid the blue shimmer of the transportation device that caught Skinner and his group. He waited until they disappeared from sight then turned to his men.

"They have good breeding potential," he stated. "They have been transported back to the planet's surface. Those who survive the general culling will father strong Producers."

~~~

Further inside the ship, the men chosen to be the current generation of Producers were also being subjected to a final selection process. 

Ordered to line up against the wall, they complied without protest, stumbling both from hunger and a depressive weakness that had seeped into their limbs as they had sat and reflected endlessly on the seeming hopelessness of their situation.

Mulder watched with weary helplessness as eight of his fellow captives were removed from the line and taken out of the room. A rough head count suggested there were now fifty "chosen", but Mulder had no idea whether that number had any particular significance or not. 

The Vet waited until the deselected men had left before addressing the remaining captives.

"The final selections have been made. You chosen cattle will be taken to the main hall to be auctioned to your new masters."

"First, however, there is the matter of fealty. Your President offered his unconditional surrender. As his former representatives it is necessary that you are seen to have accepted his decision also. We will broadcast your acceptance of your new roles to the cattle remaining on the surface.

"It is important that your world realize that we are now the masters. Your decision, as former government officials of this country, to submit to Albrecx rule is an important step in teaching the futility of resistance to those on the surface. With your submission you will save countless lives of your fellow beasts. In front of the cameras, your individual essences will be extracted by Qwentcha so that the position of humans as cattle is clearly understood."

"Although there is no electricity on the surface since we destroyed all of your power stations yesterday, our technology is sufficiently advanced that we can broadcast self-powered images directly to any of your primitive televisions and computer screens.

"We have already broadcast the submission of your President and his advisors to the milking procedure. They were too old to become producers though and too potentially dangerous to be left as breeders so they were culled after their essence was extracted."

"You never told us we'd be raped by those things," someone accused, his voice shrill with panic. 

Mulder swiveled around at the familiar voice and recognized the speaker as Agent Mike Morris from the Major Fraud Investigation Unit. He remembered that Morris was newly married and had two twin baby girls. 

Just the thought of children in the merciless hands of the Albrecx was enough to make Mulder sway with fresh horror. He wondered what the hell was happening to the people still down on the surface. What had they thought as they witnessed the humiliation and death of their President?

"You said we'd only get touched by other humans," Morris continued, trying not to look at the thick knotted tentacles that curled from the Vet's waist.

"You are correct. You are all too valuable to risk damage from Qwentcha. There will be little risk from a single extraction, however. There will be some tearing undoubtedly but it will simply teach you to be grateful for the comparative gentleness of your Studs. Today is not about extracting your essence, it is merely to demonstrate clearly to the cattle on the surface exactly what the new role is of human beasts under Albrecx rule."

"So this is just going to be done to us for effect?" Mulder asked.

"Quite so," the vet replied.

"Bastards," Mulder snarled.

His already low opinion of the Albrecx sank impossibly lower when they were led to the main hall and the Vet signaled that Morris should be the first to publicly submit. Mulder was beginning to get a damn fine handle on the motivations of the aliens and had no doubt at all that the alien Vet deliberately chose Morris to be the first so that he could demonstrate the uselessness of refusal.

"I can't do this," Agent Morris sobbed. "Not in front of a camera," he pleaded as one of the Guard's motioned him forward.

All Morris could imagine was that his wife Sue might be watching and the idea of her seeing his humiliation was more terrifying than the idea of the rape itself.

"Remove him to the milking room," the vet told the guards.

Morris immediately began to beg for a second chance as he saw the guards raise their lasers but his frantic pleas were ignored. His limbs were stripped from his body with brutal efficiency and his screaming remains were dragged out of the hall. 

Mulder watched as one by one the now subdued humans were led forward. They were forced to kneel in front of a seated Albrecx who was presumably the Imperator, and were made to verbally agree that their essence was the rightful property of the Albrecx race.

Then, one by one, they were promptly raped by the alien guards in full view of the whirling cameras. Their shuddering agonized bodies were impaled mouth and ass while they were sucked into the ultimate indignity of an obvious orgasm. 

It was that which was the true horror of the situation, Mulder decided, as only his three days without food prevented him from vomiting. 

It was the way that the Albrecx guards would remove the tentacle from their victim's mouth at the point of ejaculation, while the other tentacles continued to fuck his ass and suction his cock, so that the witnesses were left in no doubt that the men's torturous screams were as much from ecstasy as they were from pain. 

It seemed that the alien Qwentcha were able to force a human male into sexual ecstasy even as he was suffering the agony of his ass being almost ripped in half. 

Although all of the captives were being left bleeding and sobbing in agony, Mulder had little doubt that their true distress was because they had publicly orgasmed in the midst of an alien rape.

Then as the man in front was led away, Mulder realized that he was next in line. He could feel his buttocks starting to clench in terror and he had to fight the urge to urinate. He'd seen several of the previous victims lose control of their bladder and although he had felt pity for them it had been tinged with a faint contempt. Now he hated himself for even imagining he would bear up any better than they had.

Only the sure knowledge of the worse fate that would await him in the milking room allowed his shaking legs to take their first tentative step towards the Imperator.

"Not you," the vet purred, catching him by the arm and pulling him backwards.

Mulder felt his stomach somersault, his dread of the expected rape suddenly insignificant in the face of this new fear. He turned wide-eyed to the alien, half-expecting to be dismembered and dragged into the milking room for some unknown transgression.

"You are to be the Imperator's own personal producer," the Vet advised him. 

"What?" Mulder croaked.

"He does not wish you to be contaminated by the touch of lesser caste Albrecx. Your loyalty to him will soon be evident enough simply by your presence at his feet. There is no need for you to make the public pronouncement," the vet stated. "Since you also have no need to attend the public auction, we can start your adaptation immediately.

Mulder didn't know whether he was sobbing in relief or terror, but tears began to stream down his face as he was led out of the main hall to the veterinary center. 

He hadn't been sure what to expect. Something similar to the milking room, perhaps, or rows of cages maybe. Instead the Vet led him into a room that was eerily reminiscent of a blood donor center.

There were rows of full-sized beds that were white sheeted and ominous only because of the obvious built-in restraints. The room was completely un-occupied.

"You're the first," the Vet told him. "The others will arrive after the auction. You should consider yourself fortunate. When they arrive, I will be too busy repairing the damage done to them by the Qwentcha to take the time to talk. Infection is always a big problem with new cattle. It takes several weeks for your bodies to create antibodies against Albrecx infections."

"What infections?" Mulder asked.

"None you need to worry about. The Imperator will not touch you personally and it is unlikely that he will allow another to touch you if he can avoid it. He tends to be possessive of his pets. Lie down."

Mulder looked dubiously at the bed. If he understood correctly, the adaptation the Vet had referred to was going to turn his balls into something that belonged in a freak show.

But at least you'll be a freak with arms and legs, he told himself firmly, as he forced himself to lie down on the bed.  

As the vet began fastening the restraints over his body, Mulder took the opportunity to ask the question that had been hovering in the back of his mind for three days.

"Where's your old 'cattle'?"

"What?" the vet asked, clearly surprised.

"When you showed us the milking dorm it was virtually empty, yet it's set up to hold thousands of people. I thought at first that you must have come to Earth directly from your planet and that you made do with bottled 'essence' or something on the way."

"So?"

"I was wrong though. I heard one of the guards after he'd finished raping some poor bastard. He said humans tasted better than the last cattle but that he still couldn't wait to finally finish this tour and get home again."

"And from that you deducted what?" the Vet asked gently, although he was both amazed and perturbed by this beast's ability to reason. He decided the Imperator's particular instruction regarding the adaptation of this beast was well advised.

"That you left some other occupied planet to come here."

"We did," the Vet confirmed.

"Why?"

"Because this world was under threat and the world we were on was proving unsatisfactory."

"Why?"

"Because the cattle could not be tamed."

"So you left them? You just gave up?" Mulder asked, feeling the first surge of hope for days. If the Albrecx abandoned planets that were too hard to Harvest, then an organized resistance could do the same for Humanity.

"We gave up," the Vet agreed pleasantly. "We did, however, destroy the planet before we left."

He waited for Mulder's eyes to dull with understanding then smiled.

"Sometimes we retreat, little beast, but the Albrecx NEVER lose."

Mulder found himself too busy fighting back tears of dismay to find an answer to the Vet's comment. Before he recovered, the Vet pressed a flat box against Mulder's right wrist. There was a tiny jolt of pain and then Mulder found himself spinning into unconsciousness.

When he woke hours later, he found himself in such agony that he was rudely jerked back to full consciousness. He ached in so many places simultaneously that his mind couldn't even begin to identify the places that hurt. His entire body hurt, Mulder decided. He tried to raise his head but it seemed too heavy to lift. What small movement he did make quickly alerted the Vet that he was awake and the alien quickly tightened Mulder's restraints. 

"You shouldn't have woken up yet," the Vet snapped with obvious annoyance. "I can't sedate you again, so you'll just have to suffer while I finish."

Mulder's eyes flared with panic. He couldn't imagine pain could even get any worse than that he was already suffering. 

"Just one more injection," the Vet soothed, his irritation fading as he saw the fear in Mulder's eyes. 

"You should be grateful you didn't end up in the milking dormitory. You wouldn't be allowed time there to adapt to the changes. The cattle there are altered immediately so that the machinery doesn't have to be slowed down. The scrotal skin is stretched so thinly that it sometimes bursts. Now *that* is real pain," the vet chided softly, inserting his needle back into Mulder's swollen, blackened scrotum.

Mulder attempted to scream as the fiery pain throughout his whole body coalesced into a white-hot fire in his balls. An already agonizing pressure increased as more liquid was forced inside him. Then the burning faded just sufficiently for him to realize that an almost equal pressure seemed to be emanating from within his anal passage.

"It will take several days for your body to start increasing the size of your testicles as the drug increases your production of semen. In the meantime, you will have daily, increasing doses of this stretching fluid to ensure that your scrotal sac stretches to a sufficient size to house your expanded testicles," the vet told him.

"Then you will only receive further doses of the drug until your master is satisfied with the quality and quantity of essence that you provide. Your diet will be closely monitored so that the flavor of the essence is not contaminated. You will find the food bland perhaps, but wholesome and nutritious. Meat, alcohol, strong spices, onions, garlic, and similar foodstuffs are just some of the substances that you cannot ingest without affecting the quality of your essence."

Mulder struggled to raise his head enough to look down his body. What he saw made him drop his head back to the mattress and close his eyes in disgust. The only thing worse than what was happening to him was this bastard's insistence on giving him a running commentary. 

From what he could see, he had woken from a drug induced sleep only to discover that his nipples, belly button and cock had been pierced, his balls had been filled with so much fluid they were threatening to explode and some slime covered pipe had been thrust up his ass. 

As soon as he became aware of why his anus was hurting so much, he became aware that the feeling of discomfort was slowly growing as though the pipe was expanding.

Mulder opened his mouth to ask what the fuck was being done to his ass, but he couldn't make the sound emerge. Then the pressure in his balls and ass were almost forgotten in his new sudden panic as he opened and closed his mouth but found himself unable to do more than whimper. There was something wrong with his mouth, he realized. He couldn't move his tongue. He couldn't even *feel* his tongue.  He began to hyperventilate, struggling futilely against his restrains.

The vet seemed totally oblivious to Mulder's eye-rolling distress, however, and just continued his lecture.

"You will be given comfortable quarters, allowed privacy and sufficient sleep. You will have no duties. Your only purpose is to provide essence. Your life will be luxurious in comparison with that of the cattle who have not been chosen.

"Although you will be unclothed at all times, as befits cattle, your generous master has instructed that you will be given jewelry to wear as a mark of his favor. That is why your body has been pierced.

"He has also said that you will not be chained or restrained in any way. As the personal provider of the Imperator himself, your behavior will be more closely scrutinized than that of any other cattle. Your complete obedience is expected and no rebellion will be permitted. Failure to obey will mean your immediate relegation to the milking dormitories. The Imperator cannot risk your behavior embarrassing him in any fashion.

"Verbal rebellion is considered as serious to the High Caste Albrecx as physical resistance so to avoid the possibility of you causing offence your tongue has been removed. You are still capable of making pleasing sounds for your Master, but he decided that it's uneccessary for a pet to be able to speak."

The vet waited until Mulder stopped tossing his head in outrage, then continued.

"I don't normally waste my time talking to cattle like this," he snapped. "You're a special case. The imperator learned of your existence several months ago when we captured a Shrenztl ship." 

He noticed Mulder's puzzled look. 

"I believe you beasts call them the Grays. The Imperator decided then and there that as long as you were aesthetically pleasing he would take you as his own Producer. It's a huge honor. You should be grateful. You should also be grateful for his thoughtfulness in rendering you mute. It might be the only thing that will keep you out of the Milking Dormitory.

"While I'm explaining reality to you. You may as well understand that the adaptations I have made to your physiology are irreversible. Now that you have been adapted, you will find that it is impossible for you to release your essence yourself. The nerve endings of your genitals have been adapted so that you require both suction and the simultaneous stimulation of your prostate for the essence to be released. This will prevent any of your precious essence being wasted. It will also, of course, make you more willing to provide your master with the essence he requires since it will now be produced by your body at such a rate that you will die in agony if you are not relieved.

"It will be a few days before the pressure is at its full strength so you will have a chance to acclimatize to the sensation of being milked before it becomes an imperative that you cannot disobey.

"Within a week you will beg to be allowed to offer your master his fill of your essence and you will be happy to serve in this fashion. To further ensure your comfort, your anal passage is being stretched by a dilator. Over the next few days, I will increase the dilation until your muscles adapt to accept penetration. When you are fully dilated, your anus will then be kept open by a plug so that you are always fully prepared to be serviced by a Stud. 

"As you can see, the Imperator is determined that you will make a complete and relatively painless adaptation to your new life. This life will, as I said, be pleasant for you and the faster you accept that, the sooner you will be happy. Happy pets make for happy masters. Unhappy pets will be taken to the milking dorms where unhappy cattle feel at home.

"I realize that you were not warned that this would happen, but I am sure you agree that it is far less distressing than the removal of your limbs."

Go to Part Four