Page 8 of Claimed by the Alien Warrior Triad

Besides, if this figment of my imagination even understands me, it doesn’t seem to care what I have to say.

At first, I struggled, and smacked my fists against his back. Then I realized I might not want to piss off the leader of these three, seven-feet-tall warrior beasts.

After all, what might they do to me?

Then, I asked myself that question in a different mental tone…

What might theydoto me?

I shivered. My mind chose a rather…pleasantway to go insane. The skin of the man carrying me feels so real against my hands as I grope for purchase on his shoulder. With every breath of humid air, I taste this warrior’s musk in my nostrils. I usually hate the smell of sweat on a man – but somehow, this one’s scent doesn’t disgust me. It’s a manly, yet faint smell that I’d be lying if I said didn’t affect me.

At least my subconscious mind doesn’t hate me – or these three, imaginary men would smell rank.

The firm hand of the warrior pats my bottom, and my cheeks burn bright red. I’d clearly praised my subconscious too soon. My mind apparently wants me to experience the true humiliation of powerlessness.

I return to slapping the beast’s broad back in protest, and he just laughs - a low, deep rumble that I feel throughout my body. Then, he gives me ahardspank across my bottom, and I bite my lip to stop myself from hitting him again. I’mnotgoing to play this game.

“I get it. I smack you, you smack me. Findanotherwoman to play your stupid little game with,” I mutter under my breath. I can’t tell if this beastly warrior doesn’t understand me – or simply doesn’t care. Either way, it makes no difference to the end result. He doesn’t put me down. Each step he takes, I bounce on his huge shoulders – sweat forming on my brow from the heat of this… this place.

Thisplanet.

I say planet because, somehow, I know this isn’t any jungle climate on Earth. And why would it be? Why would my imagination keep me tethered to Earth, when there is a whole imaginary universe to explore?

I laugh silently, and resign myself to the situation. There’s no way I can overpower this huge, hulking creature – or his friends.

I look down. I’ve got a front row seat to study his muscled, heavily-tattooed back.

Up close, I can see every vein in this monster’s body – spreading out like roots beneath his marble skin. The veins are bright green; as if the very blood pumping through them is venomous. His tight loincloth-style shorts are tight on his athletic backside – and I study each muscular bun and the way that they move with each powerful step he takes.

Heat warms my face as I realize that I’m actually imagining what his muscled buttocks would like, moving with each step, if hedidn’thave that pesky loincloth on. To avoid the thoughts, I turn my head right.

Big mistake.

The second barbarian is staring at me like a hungry wolf. His eyes are a duller shade of green than those of his leader. They don’t sparkle the same way, but they still have a deep, green hue to them – this time flecked with gold flakes. Unlike the leader of the trio, who has long black hair that falls nearly to his shoulders, this second figure has a closely shaved head. A dangling chain of gold hangs from his neck, bouncing silently with every step. It brings out the color of his eyes, though I doubt a barbarian notices such details when he is accessorizing in the morning. Around his belt is the dangling hilt of a weapon – a wooden stick with a blackish-blue orb in it. The weapon looks strangely incomplete – almost as if it looks like it should have a barb or mace at the end.

I glance down – and then wince. I shouldnothave looked at his belt.

The huge, beastly warrior is wearing the same type of garment as his leader. Considering the man’s towering stature, I was expecting a sizeable bulge. I wasnotexpecting to see the vividly-clear outline of his rock-hard cock, snaking parallel with his right leg.

It’s too big to be real. It’s fuckinghuge.If his hybrid loincloth and shorts were an inch shorter, the massive bell head of his cock would be clearly visible.

Guilt and shame well up inside me. Over the last ten years, I didn’t think about any man other than Joshua. I have to remind myself that I’m not in a relationship anymore. In fact, I’m probably lying on the filthy ground of that New York alleyway, having a psychotic episode.

I realize I’m still staring at this warrior’s dick. My cheeks redden, and I turn my head left. The last barbarian is staring right at me as well – a slight smile on his face. He looked so ferocious at first glance, but now the mohawked warrior’s stern face is ever so slightly softened by the hint of a smile.

The leader’s eyes are emerald, and the one with the buzzcut has deep jade to them, flecked with gold. This mohawked warrior has eyes that are almost grey - the light hint of green looking more human than his brethren. His skin enthralls me. Where the men are not covered in green tribal tattoos, their skin is the color of marble - contrasting beautifully against their green veins. I gasp as I see a fresh wound on the mohawked warrior’s shoulder, still dripping blood.

It isn’t red blood.

It’sgreen.

If these warriors are human, they’re like no other human I’ve ever seen. The mohawked warrior strides powerfully on muscled legs, his skin so unblemished, unlike the faint scars on my thighs that make me hate being naked – especially in front of other people. I sigh as I see that the third warrior’s cock is rock hard as well.

There’s nowhere safe to look! Every which way has sinful sights that are making my breath quicken and my nipples harden uncomfortably. I squeeze shut my eyes, trying to take stock of the situation.

These three, huge, impossibly-muscled Greek Gods areachingfor me. I’ve never felt so desired in all my life. I open my eyes and drop my gaze across the leader’s enormous back. I’m frustrated at my own helplessness.

Helplessness in this situation – the prisoner of these three enormous men – and helpless within my own mind. Because this is all a hallucination, right? I’m completely fucking insane.

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