I hated myself for what I was about to do to her. On the surface, so much seemed better than ever in the country. But underneath, every smile was a stifled shared reality. The aliens were here, using most of us to fulfill strange sexual perversion, slithering inside every hole with massive dick-shaped phalluses of every shape and size. Only it wasn’t like the movies. The news, the people, the women, all of us shared only in subtle glances. There were clues, a rumpled outfit, and the dead giveaways. Like the girl yesterday rushing to her car with cum still dripping down her legs, leaving little puddles with each step. We averted our eyes, somehow unable to speak as the tentacles drew us nearer, claiming more and more. It was so shameful, not that we had been taken, but how each of us enjoyed it. How readily we submitted, twisted to the will of these monstrous abominations, cum drunk and depraved enough to collaborate as the inhuman cocks quietly enslave our race. There must be still. "Really?" She asked. "Yes." I leaned back on the couch and closed my eyes. I might get into trouble, but I was betting it would be a fun journey. "What do you think about when you. . . masterbate?" She asked in a low, sultry voice. "I don't know, experiences I guess." "Not fantasies?" She asked. "No, not often. Usually I think about something that happened in the past." "How do you do it? I mean, do you do it in the shower?" Her voice had lowered a bit like she didn't want to be overheard. "Sometimes," I said. "Sometimes I do it in the living room, anywhere will do." "Oh," she said breathing harder. "Do you ever think of people you haven't been with?" "Occasionally," I said suspecting where she was going with her line of questioning. "Have you ever thought of me?" I smiled to myself and had to stifle a chuckle. I was going to tease her now. "I was just about to, in fact. I thought you looked great last night." "Really?" "Really, really," I said. "But now I have to go for a run. I.
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