Close Encounters of the 7th Kind

"Um . . . It's kinda personal."

"I understand."

Another waitress walked up to the table and spoke to Venus, "Table four has a problem with their order."

"Oh, okay. I'll be right there," Venus replied, then turned to Andy and said, "I'll be back in a minute to take your order.

Andromeda spent several nimits staring at the laminated menu Venus had given him. Unfortunately, the menu was all words and no pictures, which left him confused and dumbfounded.

"Are you ready to order?" Venus asked.

"Yes, I'll have an Egg McMuffin."

"I'm sorry, we don't have that," she replied. "The closest thing we have would probably be the Extraterrestrial Eggs Benedict."

"Does that have much McMuffin in it?"

"Well, sort of, it's served on an English muffin."

"Brilliant. I would like that to eat. And can you make it a McCombo?"

"McCombo?"

"Yes, you know with hash brownies."

"It comes with hash browns."

"Superb."

Three servings of Extraterrestrial Eggs Benedict later and Andromeda was finally full. Venus brought him a small slip of paper that she called "the check" and placed it on his table. While he was eating, Andromeda had watched the other diners and learned that the Earthly custom was to place cash money on "the check" before leaving, which he did.

Andromeda had just exited the diner and was walking down Main street when he heard a female Earthling voice calling out from behind him. "Hey! Hey Andy!"

He turned and saw Venus running toward him. "Yes? Is something wrong?"

"Yes," she said. "The money you left."

"Was it not acceptable?"

"No, it's not that."

"Did I not leave enough?"

"No, you left too much, way too much."

"I'm sorry. That's all I have," Andy said. "Keep the change," he said, repeating the phrase he had heard in the Human mating documentary.

"I can't," Venus said. "I don't deserve this much."

"Well then take whatever you deserve."

Venus mentally calculated what a fifteen percent tip should be and then handed the rest of the money back to Andy.

Andy took one look at the cash money Venus had handed him, and handed her back a twenty dollar bill. "Here, have little more. I insist."

"You won't take no for answer, will you, Andy?"

"I'm not sure, should I?"

Venus grinned. "Okay, I give up. You win, but at least give me the chance to make it up to you."

"Make what up to me? What do you mean?"

"Are you single?" Venus asked.

"Yes, I never been cloned," Andromeda replied truthfully.

"I . . . uh . . . God this is so embarrassing; I usually don't do this sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?"

"Okay, here goes: I got invited to this Halloween party tonight. It's a small party, nothing exciting. If you don't having plans for the night, would you like to go with me, as my date, Andy?"

The translation for "date" came back to Andy's brain as "a sweet, dried fruit from the date palm tree". "I've never had a date," Andy admitted, "but I'd love to have a taste of yours."

Venus grinned again. "Alright then, I'll pick you up at eight, if that's alright. Where are you staying?"

"Nowhere," Andy admitted. "Where should I stay?"

"The Excelsior Hotel is only a few blocks away and it has some nice views of the park."

"The park?"

"Yeah, you know the open place with all the grass and trees."

"Ah yes, the park. I'm familiar with that area."

"I'll see you at eight then. Bye, Andy."

"Goodbye, Venus."

Andromeda checked into the Excelsior hotel, paying cash money for the room and the mini-bar deposit. With time to kill, he consulted with the concierge who recommended a visit to the town's most popular attraction: the Roswell UFO museum.

The museum, with its rudimentary and technologically primitive displays, seemed simplistic, and initially was a huge disappointment for Andromeda. But in a weird way it still made him feel homesick. Long-haul galaxy trucking was a lonely profession.

Andy's melancholy was quickly broken by a family of tourists from New Jersey who asked if they could take a picture with him―mistakenly assuming he was a costumed character who worked for the museum. A queue quickly formed, and Andy spent the next few hours living the life of a pseudo-celebrity. He didn't understand the attention he was receiving, and didn't really feel he deserved it―he was just an ordinary numanoid, after all, like everyone else from where he came from. But the attention still felt good, none the less, and lifted his spirits. Maybe this Earth wasn't such a bad place after all.

Andromeda was making his way across the park, on his the way back to the hotel, when he noticed a large crowd of people gathered around his spaceship. He approached a man who was dressed in a Halloween police officer costume. "What's going on?" he asked him.

"Some prank, as far as I can tell," Officer Prefect replied. "Probably that radio station KUFO―they're always doing crazy stunts like this on Halloween.

"The only thing I can't figure out is how they got this thing in here―it's massive. Must've used a flatbed-semi, blocked off the streets, and had some kind of crane to lift it into place."

Andromeda joined the cop and considered the ship and its location. "Maybe I . . . I mean they, the radio station, that is, just landed it here."

"You mean like with a helicopter? Like one of those heavy duty, industrial ones?" the cop asked. "You're probably right. I hadn't thought about that. Either way they still broke the law."

"Broke the law? What law? What do you mean?"

"You need a permit for something like this."

"Oh, I see. What happens when you break this law?"

"Normally, there would be heavy fines and the radio station would have to pay for security, cleanup, removal costs, and what not, but this thing has been a goddamn goldmine publicity-wise. All of the big three national TV networks are covering this thing live. It's trending bigger than Punxsutawney Phil.

"Who?"

"The groundhog, you know from Groundhog Day?"

"No, sorry, I'm not familiar with that type of hog. I thought all hogs lived on the ground, though I've heard that certain pigs can sometimes fly―but I understand that is quite rare."

The cop ignored Andromeda's take on porcine aviation. "You can't buy this kind of PR, if you tried," he continued. "This will be a huge boon to tourism and our local economy. I've already discussed this with my supervisor, and she said as long this thing is gone by sunrise tomorrow, we're going to look the other way."

"Which way is that?" Andromeda asked.

Venus parked her Saturn Vue on the side of the street across from the Excelsior hotel. As she was feeding coins into the parking meter, she noticed the huge crowd gathered in the park and wandered over to see what was happening.

Once again, Andromeda was trapped taking pictures with tourists and locals in front of his spaceship. "Andy!" she yelled out.

"Venus?" he responded and walked toward her, leaving a disappointed mob of selfie-wanting-takers in his wake.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"Ready for what?"

"To get out of here."

"Yes, of course. Let's get out of here."

Venus was nervous; it had been a while since she had been on a date. Since she had moved to Roswell, three years ago, and committed to living the UFO lifestyle, she had gone on several first dates, but never had any meaningful connection with any of them. She had tried the various dating sites and datings apps, but could never find anyone that she could relate to, anyone who shared her passion for all things Alien.

The guys she typically met online were only interested in human sex, while Venus was more interested in discussing her sexual fantasies about Alien abduction. The Venn diagram of those two sexual circles never seemed to intersect in any significant way―at least in a way that ever led to a second date.

Andy though, seemed different. For one, he liked to dress up as an Alien, that was definitely a good start. Venus knew of course he wasn't an actual Alien, but he played the part well, well enough for Venus to want to take it a step further. As they drove to the party, she tried to make small talk. "What was that crowd all about back there?"

"According to the police officer I spoke with, he said it was some stunt by a local radio station. And somehow, because of me―I mean, my costume, I got wrangled into taking pictures in front of the spaceship. Thank you for rescuing me from the chaos, Venus."

"You're welcome," she said, "my pleasure. So tell me, Andy, how long have you been in America?"

"Not long, actually. I'm what you might call a newbie, I guess," Andromeda said, trying out some of the Earthly slang from the Babelyzer add-on module.

"What do you think of it so far?"

"I like it―it seems mostly harmless, and the people seem friendly enough, well most of them anyway."

"Do they celebrate Halloween where you come from?" Venus asked.

"No, not really. It's not really a holiday back there."

"I see. Have you dated many American girls since you've been here?"

"No, unfortunately not. I travel so much for work; it's hard to find the time to find someone. One day, I hope to settle down and start a family. How about you, Venus?"

"I . . . I haven't had much luck finding Mr. Right."

"Mr. Wright, who is he?" Andy asked. "Have you tried filing a missing person's report? I heard that sometimes helps in locating people."

Venus laughed. "No, Mr. Right is someone that . . . well, something that I've come to realize probably doesn't actually exist. At this stage in my life, I'm willing to settle for Mr. Right Now, if you know what I mean."

"Sorry," Andy apologized, "I'm afraid I don't."

The party was small, barely over a dozen people. Tricia McMillan, owner of the Out of this World Diner hosted this annual get together for her employees at her mansion, which was located in an upscale, gated community outside of town. It was her way to give back and stay in touch with the common people who had the privilege to work for her. She was dressed in a Cruella de Vil costume, which perfectly matched her personality.

Venus hated her, but felt obligated to attend. Truth was, Venus hadn't made many friends since she had moved to Roswell, and these parties were the closest she had gotten to any social interaction with real life people. At least this year was different―at least this year she had a date.

"Well hello, Venus, so nice of you to attend my party," Tricia greeted her. "And I see, once again, you are wearing the same costume. What is it supposed to be again? Trailer Trash Tomb Raider?"

Venus was wearing hiking boots, khaki short-shorts that barely covered her ass, and a tight-fitting tank-top that struggled to contain her braless breasts. A pair of night-vision binoculars and a video camera were draped around around her neck. Attached to her belt were a geiger counter and a high-powered LED flashlight. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail that sprouted out of the back of an official looking UFO investigator baseball cap. "I'm a UFO-oligist, she replied. "My mission is to seek out intelligent life in the Universe and experience Alien encounters on Earth."

"Oh, I see," Tricia replied dismissively, "that UFO thing again. So tell me, Venus, have you had any luck on your mission?"

"Well, sort of. This is my new friend Andy."

Tricia looked Andromeda over, head to toe. "Nice to meet you, Andy."

"Nice to be met," he replied.

"Are you from around here?"

"No, I'm from Xentopia."

"Never heard of it," Tricia said. "Where is that?"

"It's a planet in the Zatarius star system, part of the Greblox galaxy cluster."

"Oh, I see," Tricia replied. "Well, Venus, it seems like you might have finally found your soulmate―someone who shares your same psychosis, someone as mentally ill as you are with your Alien obsessions. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other normal guests to entertain."

Venus was crushed. As soon as Tricia was out of earshot, she said to Andy, "Let's get out of here." By the time they had got into her car, Venus was balling her eyes out in tears.

"What's wrong?" Andy asked.

"Everything," Venus replied. "I moved here to chase a dream and now . . . well now it's not a dream, it's a nightmare. Everyone here thinks I'm crazy."

"I don't," Andy reassured her.

"Really, you don't?" she asked wiping tears from her watery eyes.

"No, not at all. There are billions of stars in the Universe, each of which may contain multiple, habitable planets. Anyone who believes that life only exists here on Earth . . . Well, they are certainly the crazy ones."

"Thanks for saying that, Andy. It makes me feel so much better to connect with someone who feels the same way I do. I know we've just met, and I know you will be leaving soon, but I feel that I can trust you, which is why I want to share something with you, something personal, if you'll let me."

"Certainly, what is it?"

"When you asked me what I would do if I were ever to meet an actual Alien, I wasn't comfortable telling you the truth, the whole truth," Venus admitted. "The truth is I don't just want to meet an Alien, I want to be taken by one."

"Taken where?" Andromeda asked.

"Taken sexually. I . . . I can't believe I am telling you this," Venus admitted. "My fantasy is to be abducted, restrained and fucked by an Alien."

Andromeda was shocked and wasn't sure how to respond. He now wished he had watched more episodes of the Human mating documentary TV series. Was this normal human sexual behaviour? he wondered.

"I know it's weird. I know I'm strange. I know I'm not what most people would consider normal", Venus continued, "but I can't stop thinking about it, can't stop fantasizing about it. Sorry to burden you with all of this, Andy."

"It's allright. I understand where you coming from."

"You do?" Venus asked. "Anyway, I've come to a point in my life where I know that it will never actually happen in real life, so I was wondering . . ."

"Wondering what?"

Venus steeled her courage. "Wondering if you would be willing to role play my fantasy with me."

Roll play: playing with dinner rolls (small bread-like objects) the Babelyzer returned. "I've never done that before," Andromeda admitted, "but I'm willing to try, if that's what you want.

On the rest of the drive to Venus' house she described to Andromeda, in great detail, what her Alien abduction sexual fantasy was and how it didn't involve small bread-like objects. The entire script of what was going to happen was worked out before Venus' Saturn Vue turned into the driveway of the three bedroom house she rented.

The spare bedroom of Venus' house resembled a cross between an Alien spaceship and a medical examining room, which is what it was exactly meant to look like. A ceiling mounted, LED laser projector shined, in ever-changing patterns, scattered flickering green dots, beams and patterns across the the floor and walls of otherwise dark room. An mp3 player speaker provided the soundtrack to the scene: ambient background noises compiled from the bridge of Star Trek TV show―blips, beeps, buzzes and otherworldly space-techno sounds randomly played over the top of the constant, subtle, deep-bass rumble of the spaceship's engines.

At the center of the small room stood the lone piece of furniture: a medical examiner's table that Venus had bought from a retiring physician. It was constructed of sturdy stainless-steel legs and a padded vinyl top, and had been modified to include patient restraint straps at each of the four corners of the table.

Per her instructions, Andromeda was not to speak English during their roleplay session. Instead, Venus had asked him to try and emulate an Alien language, which of course came quite easily and naturally to him. He began speaking to her in Xentopian, his native tongue, "Zaphod Beeblebrox," he said to her, then repeated it again when she failed to respond.

Unable to understand her Alien abductor's spoken language, per the agreed upon script, Venus began pretending to sense his telepathic messages penetrating her brain and controlling her thoughts. "Take off your clothes, so that I can examine you, Earthling," the thought message demanded. Venus complied and quickly shed all of her human clothing and accessories.

Andromeda used a thermal temperature gun aimed at her forehead to measure her body heat, then he took a cotton Q-tip and swabbed the inner part of her cheek to obtain a DNA sample. He next scanned her entire naked body, head to toe, front and back, with a technologically-advanced hand-held medical device (which in reality was a handheld, UPC laser barcode scanner).

Once the scan was completed, Andromeda telepathically ordered Venus to lie face down, legs spread-eagle on top of the examining table, then he firmly secured her wrists and ankles to it.

Venus tested the restraints, not because she wanted to escape, she didn't; it was all part of the game, part of the show, part of her fantasy. She felt incredibly exposed, incredibly vulnerable, and incredibly aroused. She was helpless to resist the Alien creature's deviant desires.

Her pussy was now dripping wet and leaking a puddle onto the table between her thighs. She couldn't believe this was really happening, that her fantasy was about to come true. Venus was finally going to be fucked by an Alien. She was in Heaven.

The bulbous head of Andy's Alien cock rubbed against the slick folds of Venus' swollen pussy lips, before he plunged into her. Venus was so horny, so worked up, so aroused, she came instantly when he entered her.

It was an entirely new experience for Venus―she had never been able to achieve orgasm through human intercourse, though, admittedly, the sample size of her human partners was incredibly small.

Andy was different, his cock felt different. It was shaped differently than the few men she been with. It curved in a direction that pressed against her G spot with every thrust. And the large, bell-shaped head of Andromeda's cock gave Venus as much pleasure pushing into her as it did pulling back out for more.

Andromeda started fucking her, hard, deep and forcefully. Venus came and came, again and again. The intense orgasms seemed never ending. She was beginning to wonder how much more she could take, when Andromeda finally let go and pumped her pussy full of his numanoid cum. When he had finished, Andromeda pulled out of her with a plop and got dressed before he released Venus from her restraints.

After Venus got dressed, she said, "Thank you, Andy. That was amazing. Before you leave, will you do me one favor?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Will you take off your costume so I can see what you really look like?" she asked.

"Costume?"

"Yeah, the Alien outfit. I wanna see what's underneath―I wanna see who the real Andy is."

"I have a confession to make, Venus. I am what I am. What you see is what you get. This is me; this is not a costume, this is what I really look like; this is who really am," Andromeda admitted. "What I said before at the party was true. I'm a numanoid from Xentopia. My real name is Andromeda HXT92801. I come from a medium-sized exoplanet in the Zatarius star system. I'm sorry if I may have misled you. Are you mad at me?"

"Mad at you? Are you kidding?" Venus asked. "Why would I ever be mad at you, Andromeda? This is a dream come true for me. This was the most incredible experience of my life―more than anything I could've ever wished for. I will remember this day, this night, our time together, forever. I only wish . . ."