Page 17 of Sold to the Alien Smugglers

I can’t speak their language, and I’m actually happy about that – I’m very sure Idon’twant to know what those slimy bastards are saying about us as they waddle into the room.

I force my eyes open. It hurts like hell, but as my eyes adjust to the brightness, I realize the light only seemed so blinding after hanging here in the absence of it for so long.

My eyes focus on two Toads. Short, stocky, and with broad, flat faces. The pale light glistens on their skin. Each of them is wide like a bowling ball, and their green, warty flesh jiggles obscenely as they wade through the ankle-deep water.

Through the door behind them floods more mist and steam. I know that Toads need constant moisture, but my body is dripping from all the humidity. I have to blink to prevent being blinded by the salt of my own sweat, dripping into my eyes.

I feel disgusting – but looking at the Toads just makes that sensation worse. It’s as if the reflection in their bulbous eyes as they drink in the sight of me defiles me.

I’d give anything for a cold, clean shower right now – far away and safe from these disgusting creatures.

The worst part?

I mean, none of it’s good – but the worst part is that these two Toads wear only loincloths slung around their swollen waists.

If you can even call them waists. The creatures are revolting, and their huge, gelatinous guts spill out over the top of their loincloths. The Toads look distended and full – the same way a swollen animal corpse does by the side of the road, baking in the sun and filled with noxious gas and poison.

One of the Toads waddles forward, licking his huge lips. He points a gangly, webbed finger at me.

My heart skips a beat. I start to fight desperately against the cuffs holding my arms above my head, but it’s hopeless. A warbly chuckle – which must be a laugh, I suppose - gurgles from the nearest Toad’s fleshy, glistening lips.

For a moment, the revolting creature just watches me struggling to get away. It’s as if he’s enjoying my mounting desperation.

Finally, the Toad reaches forward with one of his glistening, webbed hands and grabs the front of my shirt – right between my breasts.

With a gurgle, heripsmy shirt and bra apart – leaving them hanging by my sides, and exposing me to his bulbous, unblinking eyes.

I shudder and turn my face in revulsion – and it gets worse. So much worse.

Suddenly, the Toad’s slimy, wet fingers are sliding between my breasts. I press myself as far away from the disgusting creature as I can – my bare back slick against the moss-covered wall behind me – but it’s no good. There’s nowhere to run. I hang there, molested by the slimy hands of this revolting alien, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

The two Toads laugh, delighting in my revulsion. Their beady eyes open wide as they drink in the sight of my bare breasts; now glistening and slimy with the trail of the first Toad’s fingers.

As he squeezes and kneads my breast, I glance down – and immediately regret it.

The Toad’s loin-clothmoves -and suddenly I realize that his disgusting, green cock is hardening as he touches me; filling and stretching the material of his loin cloth until I’m scared it’ll tear right through it.

I bite my lip to try and stop myself from screaming – fighting desperately against my shackles as I try to fight him off.

It’s useless, though. I could barely dislodge that mosquito, earlier – and this Toad is a million times more powerful than that blood-sucking bug.

As I hang there, trembling and squirming, the Toad reaches for my nipple – his wet fingers sinking down to crush my flesh between them.

I gasp, but the pain is nothing compared to the disgust I feel.

Then, suddenly, the Toad freezes in place.

I blink, and watch as he becomes the one squirming and shivering. As I watch, the Toad’s bulbous eyes stretch open, and he begins gyrating and shaking right in front of me – before screaming in pain and flailing to the floor.

I look up and see what happened. A third of their species had quietly entered this room while my face was turned away in disgust – and this new arrival jabbed the first Toad with one of their species’ dreaded electro-rods.

The Toad who’d been groping me lies in a heap, splashing in the ankle-deep water. He’s cowering in the fetal position, still twitching from the thousands of volts sent sparking through his amphibian nervous system.

The second Toad jumps back at the demonstration – holding his arms up desperately, as if to wordlessly assure the new arrival that “I never touched her.”

Not that Toads are renowned for caring about such things.

The Toad who’d just entered this room is bigger than the other two – six feet tall and comprised of at least four hundred pounds of muscle draped in a hundred pounds of flabby, quivering fat.

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