A Miscalculation - Part 1 (Commission for @ThickGreenFluff)

TAGS: Alien Abduction, Growth, Slow Burn

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He’d seen a great many things in the night sky which he couldn’t personally explain, but as a man of science, Thomas wasn’t one to make assumptions. He was still an amateur astronomer, it being likely that a great deal of phenomena that would be the bread and butter of professionals simply eluded him… at least for the time being. Hence why he never paid much heed to the odd bursts of light he occasionally spotted while stargazing, or the quickly moving shiny dots in the sky that he assumed were just satellites; he knew, deep down, that what he thought was an anomaly was most likely something perfectly mundane, so he never bothered to think too much about it. That is, of course, until the one night where the distant oddities came a bit too close for comfort, and he was suddenly confronted with the very terrifying reality of the situation. For the drox, everything had gone normally up until the point where things quickly nosedived into the realm of the unnatural: he packed up his astronomy gear, left his home after dinner, and drove to a secluded grove at the edge of town, to a spot where light pollution was at its dimmest and he could actually see some of the stars swirling above him. As usual, he placed the tripod on the ground and went to work adjusting the lenses, then, once done, wrestling with the deployable chair that always refused to open properly. From there, the process was always the same, with Thomas quietly looking at the inky blackness above with one hand on the assortment of gears that allowed him to change the magnification, and the other holding a pencil where he recorded his finds in a small notebook. His goal, at least initially, was to correctly identify every major constellation, and from there move on to locating landmark galaxies; he wasn’t yet confident enough in his abilities that he felt as if he could contribute to the bulk of scientific knowledge, but he’d get there… eventually, of course; some day he’d have a star with his name attached to it, he knew that much. Unfortunately, the universe seemed to have different plans for him that night, as rather than providing him with a hitherto-unknown fusion engine, he was instead shown something that definitely looked as if it should be there: it was yet another light, albeit larger than the ones around it, definitely much closer to him than the stars in the sky were. Nothing major, Thomas thought to himself, it was probably just a satellite, or maybe even a plane or helicopter; he continued thinking this every time his telescope swerved to look at the damned thing, which steadfastly refused to move from the exact position it had been in when the drox found it, no matter how long he tried to ignore it. After a point, it became impossible for him not to try and spot it with the naked eye, at which point he came to realize that whatever it was, it was most definitely very close to him, it wasn’t moving, and it had to be artificial; even then, Thomas tried his best to convince himself that, whatever it was, the light was likely something innocuous, like a balloon or a particularly long-lasting fireworks rocket. It wasn’t until the dot began to grow and widen, and his ears were suddenly assaulted by an increasingly loud buzzing, that the drox’s mental wall began to crumble, and every fear he’d ever had, every mad assumption he’d ever made, swarmed him during his moment of weakness. There were so many possibilities to choose from if one simply abandoned the path of rationality and gave in to fear, so many bad endings that could leave him scarred for life: was it a meteor come to smush him? An interdimensional creature of unfathomable power? An angel, perhaps, to come pick him as a prophet? Hell, was it aliens? He genuinely had no clue, and given that the light only grew brighter and the sound louder, Thomas didn’t exactly have a lot of opportunities to check for what it might be either. His senses overwhelmed, all he could do was hold his hands to his head and despair at how blocking his ears did nothing to help, all while he felt as if he was being blinded even through closed eyelids; it was impossible to focus on anything else, hence why the green drox didn’t notice when his feet left the ground, his body suddenly weightless as he was pulled upwards into whatever that light was. The last thing he remembered was everything suddenly going very dark, the sound dropping in both intensity and register, and something that sounded terrifyingly close to someone talking before he lost consciousness.

He came back to his senses some time later, though how much he couldn’t tell. Consciousness came slowly, his head pounding like he’d spent the previous night drinking far too much, yet lacking in the nausea or sense of foreboding doom that came with having to deal with a hangover; instead, he felt… oddly restless, like his body needed to move but he just couldn’t, no matter how much he tried; this wasn’t metaphorical either, as Thomas would soon find out that his arms and legs were genuinely restrained, and tightly enough that he couldn’t move them a single inch. Panic swelled up inside him; had he genuinely been abducted? Were all the stories he heard of alien probings actually real, and he was now about to find out what extraterrestrial visitors did to unassuming people like him? He thrashed about, or tried to at least, only to find that no matter how hard he tried, all he managed was to leave his skin chafing after he grinded too heavily against whatever was restraining him, which oh-so-conveniently let him know that he was completely naked, something he confirmed once his eyes focused properly and he tried to get a good look around him. He wasn’t in an operating room, which his knowledge of pop culture told him should have been the case, but rather in a completely empty space, with only the walls, ceiling and floor to keep him company… well, that, and the metal slab that he was strapped on. He couldn’t see it properly, owing to a metallic band keeping his head in place as well, but from what little he could tell by wildly swivelling his eyes around, he was strapped to the thing via a series of rings held tightly against him, keeping him stuck to the cold, uncaring surface of what he could only assume was some sort of adjustable surgical table. That said, with nothing around him, it felt more like he was inside some kind of display case, held in an empty box to be admired, rather than experimented on; it certainly didn’t help that nothing happened for the longest time, leaving him increasingly paranoid about what might take place eventually. Thomas was certain that abduction scenarios had folks be taken and then immediately thrown under the knife by whoever owned the flying craft, but he was apparently just left alone for whatever reason; though keeping track of the passage of time was exceedingly difficult with no light sources, or indeed anything beyond dull grey walls, by the time the drox heard footsteps coming from outside, he was certain he’d been in there for at least an hour, raising doubts as to what exactly was his purpose. Surely he couldn’t be a typical abductee, those were effectively working on “catch and release” rather than… whatever was happening to him. His doubts wouldn’t be in any way diminished once the footsteps stopped, the wall directly in front of him reshaping itself to create a door from seemingly nothing; from the way the surface of it seemed to melt before doing so, it was probably some form of nanobot compound (he’d seen those in movies), which was entirely in tune with what came through the door: an overgrown lizard.

It was bipedal, yet hunched over, as if it wanted its arms to grow outwards and turn into an additional pair of legs. Its skin, scaly, rough-looking even at a distance, with two overly large eyes set dead-center, staring directly at Thomas and leaving the drox thoroughly creeped out by how long they could go without blinking… followed by them doing so with three separate eyelids, only making it worse. At the very least, they were clothed, though the skin-tight outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination; the last thing Thomas wanted in his mind were the full contours of some unknown alien beast, though surprisingly, when his eyes unfortunately veered downwards, he didn’t spot anything in the way of genitals, and now he was thinking about lizard dick; truly, an astounding turn of events. When the creature (person?) opened its (his?) mouth to talk, what came out sounded exactly like that Thomas remembered hearing before passing out; unfortunately, it was just as indecipherable then as it had been before, and given how confused he must look, combined with how the alien didn’t even look at him past a certain point, the captive drox began wondering if he was being talked to or simply talked about. He had been abducted, after all, so perhaps that thing was just taking notes for its research, or discussing their newest catch with someone over a communications link, or any other number of things which left Thomas feeling increasingly fearful for his future. He wanted to scream, if only to say something, to prove to that creature that he wasn’t just livestock to be captured and bred or experimented upon, but every time he tried to open his mouth, either his words got stuck in his throat or the extraterrestrial raised a finger as if to silence him, oftentimes both; the gesture was simple, almost insultingly so, and yet Thomas couldn’t bring himself to disregard it, as his mind immediately began thinking about all the terrible fates that could befall him if she should do such a thing. The power dynamic only changed when the lizard stopped chattering in whatever language it used and drew some sort of device from a pocket on its suit: a collar, that it placed around its neck before fiddling with a series of buttons. Whatever it was, it looked more like some kind of fashion accessory than anything else, prompting some more confused looks out of Thomas… at least until the lizard opened their mouth again, and the words that came out were perfectly understandable.

“Language loaded, English,” it spoke, “odd, didn’t expect it to sound so weird coming out of me. Right, logging subject reaction: surprise, mild shock; vital signs still normal, no indication of immediate mental trauma, though long-term observation will still be required. Approaching subject.

It took a step closer, its eyes once more locked onto the drox’s.

“Subject Seventeen-dash-Beta, how are you feeling?”

… was that a trick question? Was he actually supposed to answer it? Did that thing genuinely just ask him how he was doing as if he hadn’t just been abducted and strapped to a table in a room gods-knew-where? It was so brazen that Thomas actually flinched in response, his brain scrambling for a response to give; he wasn’t even thinking of resisting anymore, if only because the approach was so on-the-nose and lacking in any subtlety that it completely broke through any barriers he might’ve put up. Perhaps that was the point?

“I’m… f-fine?” Thomas lied through his teeth, not knowing what to say, “Where am I?”

“Currently en-route to an unmarked off-site outpost, to await transportation to the core worlds.

What?

“What?!” the drox blurted out.

“You have been selected for captivity thanks to your unique, desirably exotic traits,” the lizard explained nonchalantly, “as such, we have retrieved you from your local habitat, and will now transport you for further processing. You will be allotted food and drink in concordance with your needs, and accommodations as befitting your performance; further details will be given by your caretakers on arrival.”

Thomas heard the words, and to some extent he understood what they were supposed to mean, but there was something about them that made his brain refuse to process them. The sounds were there, but the meaning simply refused to stick, if only because it was so absurd that his very mind had erected emergency defenses to keep itself from being overwhelmed; the mere notion that he’d been abducted to serve as some kind of zoo exhibit was so absurd that he had to be dreaming, and whatever the light had been, it had most likely just knocked him out and forced him into a deep enough state of slumber that his brain conjured up this ridiculous series of events. That had to be it, surely, because the alternative was just too much for him to handle. Granted, he could see why a race of lizards would find someone like him to be “exotic”: fox-dragon hybrids weren’t exactly rare, but one with his sort of colouring certainly was. Then again, was that it? Was he being picked because he had a less-common-than-average combination of pigments leaving him a rather uncommon green? It felt insulting, in a way, that he would only be singled out for something he had absolutely no control for, which was a good enough distraction from the outrage of being captured for the sake of being in a zoo that Thomas chose to focus on the former rather than the latter; much less despair as well, given that he was also still restrained, and thus unable to really do anything about his current situation.

“You’ll need to undergo a physical check-up on arrival,” the alien carried on, either not noticing or not caring that their captive was clearly expressing emotional distressing, “provided you are not carrying any viral pathogens or other contaminants, you’ll then be transported to the nearest transportation hub, and from there towards your permanent residence. Do you have any questions?”

“Yes,” Thomas immediately replied, finding enough courage (or stupidity) within him to avoid thinking about the consequences, “what the fuck is going on and where am I going?”

For a few moments, the lizard looked genuinely confused. It raised a hand to the collar, temporarily disengaging the translator software; the next few words that came out of their mouth were in their language, with the creature presumably speaking to its colleagues about the sudden outburst. Didn’t take long before their attention was back on the drox though.

“We… explained it already: you have been selected for captivity thanks to your exotic physical traits,” the extraterrestrial repeated itself, “on occasion, specimens are procured from your planet when orders for requisitioning are provided; normally, this will be related to long-term medical programs, behavioral studies or zoological exhibits. You are quite lucky to be selected for the last one, as it offers full clearance and protection from more dangerous alternatives.”

“I’m not going to live in a fucking zoo!” Thomas shouted, by that point actively struggling against his restraints and managing only to nearly tear fur off his arms.

“That is not for you to decide,” the drox’s jailor replied coldly, “nor for me, I’m simply following orders from above. An order came in for a specimen, and your characteristics matched the ones listed; therefore, we have procured you, and you will comply. There is no other choice.”

“Screw you there’s no other choice!” the dragon-fox once more bellowed at the top of his lungs, “Let me the fuck out, bring me back home! I’m not gonna be your goddamn zoo pet!”

“You are not being requisitioned for domest-” the lizard paused midway through their sentence, letting out a resigned sigh once they realized that nothing they said would get through to their captive “-listen, I understand this is perhaps a bit more than your kind is accustomed to, but I can assure you, things will make perfect sense once you’re settled in and are given instructions. For the time being, however, it appears you are experiencing emotional distress.”

The last two words were spoken with a tone that sounded more threatening than it did declarative; indeed, the lizard brought a hand behind their back after the statement and produced what appeared to be some form of auto-injector, a small ampoule with a clear liquid already loaded into it. Thomas… didn’t react. He knew what it was; if anything, he was more confused than anything why they hadn’t just loaded him with tranquilizers before. He barely even said anything when the lizard silently leaned over to prick the side of his arm; all he could muster was an angry stare for as long as the substance allowed him to remain conscious. He might not have any control over where his life was going anymore, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t about to make that everyone’s problem, even if all he could do was be grumpy about it. Nevertheless, tranquilizers were tranquilizers, and within moments, everything blacked out again.

He woke up after yet another indeterminately long period of time, once again restrained to a bed, once more stuck inside a room; this one, however, had bright white panels instead of dull grey ones, and his captors were nice enough to keep his bed horizontal rather than leaving him to face off against gravity. He still couldn’t move though, and in fact felt like his muscles had all taken a serious beating from how harshly they were aching, but at least… well, there wasn’t an “at least”, really; his brain tried to find a silver lining, but there weren’t many to be found amidst the dreadful situation he was in. He tried humming, then whistling, then shouting for someone to come get him, before finally settling on staring ahead at the ceiling; his body was once again tingling, desperate for him to move it, even when such a thing was impossible, leaving him feeling so restless that he could probably run for a mile and a half and still not have vented all the excess energy he had inside of him. Thomas wondered whether this was on purpose, if his jailors were deliberately keeping him in that state for long enough that it broke him, turning him into a pliable and far more agreeable test subject. If that was the case, they had another thing coming; the longer they made him wait, the angrier he became, and the more resentment he built up towards the sheer injustice of what was happening to him. He swore to himself that the moment they removed those restraints, he was going to make damned sure they regretted doing so, because if he had nothing else, then he still had his dignity. Sadly, dignity didn’t help fill his belly, and before long he began to feel the effects of having been abducted what was most likely several hours prior, with the grumbling of his stomach filling his ears in about as much proportion as it itself was empty. Thomas could’ve called for food, could’ve asked for something; he knew they were listening, and would most likely come bearing “treats” for their new pet, so he kept his mouth shut. If the lizards wanted to do anything, they’d have to take the first step, a stubborn position that the drox held onto even after thirst was added onto the hunger already nagging at him and it started to feel like he’d been outright abandoned. It was a tug-of-war, or at least Thomas assumed it was for the sake of his own sanity, one that he refused to lose… and wouldn’t he know it, after what felt like an eternity, right when his mental defenses were starting to crumble, one of the walls produced a door in much the same way as back in the other cell, with a similarly-suited lizard walking into the room, dragging an IV drip behind them in one hand, and pushing a metal cart with the other. From the look on their face, they were not happy with being there; in fact, they didn’t say a single word, preferring to work in silence as they attached the IV to their patient-slash-prisoner, then opened a hatch on the top of the cart and retrieved what looked to be a small energy bar from within.

“Eat,” they commanded, before unceremoniously shoving the snack directly into Thomas’ mouth, then immediately turning back and leaving the room with the cart in tow.

He’d won. Against all odds, his obstinance had carried the day and actually got him something close to a victory! It wasn’t much, and the energy bar was certainly not the best thing he’d ever tasted, but at least he had something, with the IV drip taking care of the rest; not the best of circumstances, but certainly an improvement. The power bar itself was almost disgustingly bland, to the point where Thomas almost wished that it tasted poorly just so it could have a taste to begin with; it was like chewing through paper, through thick, slightly pasty paper with only the slightest hints of something that might once have been sugar, and it was dreadful. The drox figured that it must be some kind of emergency nutritional supplement, something that was eaten for survival rather than any sort of enjoyment; it was even slightly moist, presumably so it could take care of the need for water to some extent… and the longer he chewed on it (and there was plenty of time for that, given how terrible it was), the more he seemed to… “like” was not the right word for it, but it became slightly more tolerable, a sentiment that grew more powerful with every bit and movement of his jaw. Perhaps there was a gooey center to help compensate for how godawful the rest of it was, or maybe his brain was just trying to make the best out of a shitty situation, but by the time he was done with the energy bar, Thomas felt as if it hadn’t been nearly as bad as he initially presumed; he even felt refreshed and (slightly) restored, like the snack had been an HP Up item in a video game, just what his metabolism needed! In fact, he felt so good that he almost smiled; really, the longer he spent marinating in the aftermath of eating what had once felt like wet tissue paper, the more the drox came to realize that it had done a number on his body, bringing it right back to full working condition and then some! He was genuinely impressed; maybe it was a super-snack, designed to return even the critically ill to the best of health at the expense of having to eschew any sense of taste, and his captors just happened to realize that they wouldn’t be able to break him, so they might as well try and keep him stable. Hell, Thomas felt so energized that it circled back to him despairing at how his body was being held back by the restraints, restraints that felt increasingly tighter each time he tried to break free from them. He thrashed about again, hoping to get a reaction from his jailors, and yet, rather than panic or shouting, what he got instead was enough silence for him to realize that there was something there, something making a noise that he hadn’t heard in a while: twisting metal. He still had his head restrained, thus couldn’t quite make out what was happening, but whenever he tried moving an arm or a leg, he could actually hear the metallic rings holding him down groan loudly, as if they were being bent out of shape; now, clearly, this couldn’t be the case, because there was no way a scrawny little thing like him could ever do that much damage… but that didn’t stop him from trying again either, especially when he began feeling the rings loosen.