Hostage Brides of the Overlords: Part 4: (Futuristic Sci Fi Erotica) Read Online Free PDF

Chapter One
    Clara had her assignment. She was in room D of hallway D, although what room she was in actually made no difference. They were identically decorated, and they were all used for the exact same purpose: for young woman to be brutally mated with oversized monster men that had been genetically bred to fight a war against invaders from space. Clara, and all the other women in this department, had been kidnapped from the past using stolen alien technology to provide pure, "normal" breeding partners for the "bigs." And the bigs were big indeed.
    Only twice in her life had Clara smoked a cigarette. The first time was at a house party during high school, and she was upset after having a boyfriend break up with her after two months of go ing steady. A friend told her the smoke would make her feel better. It made her feel dizzy and sick, but at least that distracted her from her boy problems for a few minutes.
    The second time ha d been at the University of California, at Davis, where she'd been studying Mathematics. It was during her first semester, and she'd underestimated how challenging the courses would be. She wrote a test and walked out knowing she had failed it, and she felt like shit. A classmate offered her a cigarette. Once again, it didn't make her feel better, but feeling dizzy and sick at least helped her feel different for a few minutes.
    That was what she wished she could have right now, in room D of hall D. She wished she could smoke a cigarette and feel dizzy and sick for a few minutes, so at least she had something else to think about besides what would be coming through the door in the next few minutes.
    It was going to be one of the bigs. Maybe even two or three of them. And he, or they, were going to fuck her with their enormous cocks, ramming their way into her pussy like engines of war knocking down the gates of a castle. Even if she cooperated fully, doing her best to accommodate their massive members, it was going to hurt like hell because they were going to open her up and stretch her-- stretch her to the very limit.
    And what made it all the worse was that Clara, for better or for worse, was now in love with another man.
    Of course , she couldn't really be in love, she kept telling herself. The feeling was just a psychological construct of this absurd situation. If things were different and she met the same young man in the regular world, they would never have given each other a passing glance, a thought, a word. But here...
    All she wanted in the world was to somehow turn into mist and float through the doorways, pass unchecked down the halls, throughout this whole massive underground network until she found Sean. Then, she would take material form again and kiss him, lay down with him, wrap her arms around him, and together they would make the nightmare go away.
    That wasn't going to happen.
    It was possible they might meet again, somehow. Maybe the orderly, one of their overseers, the "littles," would choose to take her back to the faraway hall for another late night party. Maybe Sean would, by random chance, be there too. Maybe. She loved him, yes, she loved him, but no. She held no hope of seeing him again.
    It all seemed so stupid, anyway. He was a kid from the 'hood, a lost boy from Long Beach, California in 1995. He talked like a cartoon stereotype of a rap gangster, and in the real world, they n ever would have crossed paths. And even if they'd met, they never would have made the slightest connection. In fact, if they'd actually met in the past, Sean would have been twenty years older than she was.
    Clara smiled at the thought. Her first older man.
    They'd had sex the night before, and Clara thought that maybe she might have fallen for him a little bit. If she was very, very lucky, maybe he gave her the magic shot and his sperm had found her egg, or was at least still on its way. If she could get pregnant then she wouldn't have to worry about getting gang-fucked by seven-hundred pound