MISC: Super Stomach Girl #1 - Alien Abduction

[Jerry]

Super Stomach Girl #1 - Alien Abduction

by Jerry Shaw

I woke up in the dark. When my eyes finally focused, there were only 
stars visible, above me on this moonless night.

I was in the desert. That I knew. The hot smells, the cold breeze, the 
constant, though faint, insect sounds, and the occasional howl of a 
coyote confirmed that. But how did I get here? And where was "here?" 
That I didn't know.

Slowly and cautiously I sat up. I seemed OK with no obvious problems. My 
face and hands were a little cold but that was all. The rest of me was 
warm. I had been out in the desert overnight before. I knew how cold it 
could get out there, under cloudless skies that let the daytime heat 
radiate out into the pitch-black night. I knew that in the early spring 
like it was now, the temperature could dip below freezing just before 
dawn, even after a blistering hot day. So the first thing I checked was, 
what was I wearing. And this gave me the first shock of that night.

At first, I seemed to be naked. I felt all over my body, and couldn't 
feel any clothing of any kind. Anywhere. But with visions of freezing to 
death clouding my mind, I finally felt a seam, or more correctly, the 
edge of my clothes. It wasn't really clothes as such. It was more like a 
skin-tight leotard or body-suit, though all the ones I owned had at 
least a seam or two where the fabric was joined. This had none, no seams 
of any kind. And no hems around the edges, at my neck or at my wrists. I 
could insert my fingers between the fabric and my skin and pull it way 
out, stretching it out quite a bit. But when I released it, it snapped 
back into place snug against my skin, against every curve of my body, 
even tightly in the valley between my small-but-firm breasts. When I ran 
my hand over it, I couldn't feel the edge at all. It was as if it was 
painted on. But whatever it was, it was warm. My exposed hands and head 
were cold, but the rest of me was snug and warm, at a perfect body 
temperature. Whatever else, I wouldn't be freezing, not tonight at least.

Having allayed my first fear, I went into survival mode. Water was the 
first thing. My mouth didn't feel dry at the moment, so I knew I could 
make it through the night. When day came though, I would have to look 
for something wet, maybe some cactus. And of course, food wasn't a 
problem either, as I knew that I could go for a week without it. But I 
didn't intend on staying in the desert anywhere near that long.

I proceeded to get my bearings. To the south and east (yes, I knew the 
stars well enough to tell direction), there was only desert. I could 
tell, since I could see stars all the way to the flat horizon in those 
directions. To the north, probably 50 miles away, there was a range of 
mountains, with their angular shapes outlined by more stars. I thought I 
recognized one of them by its shape, but I couldn't tell for sure. But 
to the west, again about 50 miles away I estimated, there was the glow 
of a city, the yellow glow of sodium vapor lights contrasting with the 
blue-white of the stars overhead.

Absently, I rubbed my hands together to help warm them. I had a ring on. 
But I never wore jewelry! I didn't even own any jewelry, except for a 
plastic watch (which was missing, I noticed). So to discover I was 
wearing a ring was a little unnerving. I rotated it between my fingers, 
trying to feel its shape (the black night didn't let me see even as far 
as my hand). Suddenly there was a bright flash, and a glowing figure was 
standing in front of me.

"They are after me. Your soldiers are after me. I do not have much time, 
so listen to what I have to say," the figure floating in front of me 
said in a lilting, almost mechanical voice.

He (at least I think it was a "he") was gray and completely naked. At 
least at first glance. His head was his most striking feature. He had an 
overly large, egg-shaped head, with no hair at all. His eyes were very 
large, like cartoon eyes,  solid black. He had no nose at all, not even 
a slit or a bump where the nose should be. His mouth was also small, 
just a straight, horizontal slit with no lips of any kind. He was 
wearing the same kind of clothes that I imagined I was wearing, gray to 
match his skin and skin-tight. That's what had given me that first 
impression of his being naked.

I said I imagined we were wearing the same type of clothes. Strange, 
though his whole figure was glowing, it was emitting no light. On 
looking down, I could see no more of my own clothes than when it had 
been pitch black. After a short pause to glance sideways, he continued.

"We found you in the desert. You were dead."

That shocked me, though it took a couple seconds before I realized what 
he had said. And before I had a chance to reflect on it, he continued 
again, in a hurried voice.

"We fixed up your body. We fixed it up so you were alive again. We 
improved it where it had been damaged. We made you stronger, stronger 
than the average mortal. You have powers that others will not comprehend. 
Your main power is the ability to ..." He was cut off by a loud crash 
and a lot of small pops, like a string of firecrackers going off.

Looking to one side again, he said, "They have broken in. They are here. 
You most learn your powers on your own. I will not be there to help you. 
As you Earthers say to each other, live long and prosper, and may the 
force be with you ..." There was a loud explosion and just as the sound 
from it peaked, his image and the sound both abruptly cut off, like a TV 
channel going off the air from a direct nuclear strike. The ring I had 
been fingering disappeared in that same instant, leaving me holding thin 
air.

I stood for only a second. Then my legs gave way and I dropped like a 
rock, landing solidly on my butt. I just sat there, leaning back, my 
arms somehow supporting my body. And in a flash, I remembered.

It had been a bad Thursday. At my job in the Secretaries' Pool for a 
large engineering firm, I was one of 80 secretaries. When one of the 
departments needed some extra work done, or if one of the regular 
secretaries went on vacation, they would call down, and the most 
qualified (or least busy, or most bored) of us would be assigned to the 
task for the day. And the next day, we might be doing a completely 
different job, somewhere else in the company.

Thursday they called me to support a department on the seventh floor 
while their secretary was on vacation. That was the worst floor, since 
it had all the senior engineers. Funny, they could design a space 
shuttle and describe the physics behind it, but they couldn't unjam a 
copy machine. Or even figure how much coffee to put into their expensive 
coffee makers. So all morning, I unjammed their copy machines, made 
coffee for them, and generally did the other thousand things they 
expected of their secretary. They ran me ragged, so by the time my lunch  
break rolled around, I was already exhausted. And what made matters 
worse, there wasn't anything to do all afternoon. I just sat at my desk, 
occasionally answering the phone for one of the engineers who was out of 
his office, but doing nothing else. I almost fell asleep more than once. 
So when quitting time rolled around, I was more than ready for it.

On the long bus ride home, I fell asleep. And when I woke up, I had 
missed my stop by several blocks. I lived on the border of the bad part 
of town. And those several blocks had put me well into that part. It 
must have been my being tired. I decided to get off and walk back home. 
Any other day, I would have stayed to the end of the line, in a better 
part of town, then get back on the bus going the other way and ride back 
to my stop. But today, I was tired. I didn't want to spend an extra hour 
on the bus. I wanted to get home, to sleep. So, I started out home 
through the bad part of town. I should have known what would have 
happened next.

About three blocks from home, I ran into a girl-gang. I had been walking, 
minding my own business, when I turned a corner and there they were. It 
was too late to avoid them, so I hunkered down and tried to ignore them, 
trying not to make eye contact. It didn't work.

"What do we have here?" the obvious leader said. "We got someone on our 
turf. Someone who's not wearing our Colors."

I was stuck now. There was nowhere to go. If I ran, they would surely 
chase after me. If I stood up to them, they would all attack at once. I 
doubt I could take on even one of them, let alone all of them at the 
same time. So I did the only thing I could think of. I just kept walking, 
hoping they would ignore me, hoping they would think I wasn't worth 
their time to harass. But it was not to be.

"Hey, girlie! Aren't you listening to me? What are you doing here?"

I muttered something about missing my bus, and kept walking. It didn't 
work. Obviously, they weren't going to leave me alone.

"You think you're so good that you can ignore us? Well, I'll show you 
what that'll get you," and with that she grabbed my arm, and spinning me 
around to face her, she punched me hard in the upper stomach.

I was a member of a fitness club. I worked out a couple times a week, 
mainly aerobics, mainly to keep my weight down. I thought I was in good 
condition, but that punch penetrated all the way to my spine, knocking 
the wind out of me. I fell to the sidewalk panting, gasping, trying to 
get my breath back.

"Hey girls. It looks like we got a weakling here. Let's show her what 
she gets for walking through our turf. Jan! Mary! Grab her arms and lift 
her up. I want a clear shot at her."

One of the girls grabbed one arm, and the other grabbed my other arm, 
and they lifted me to my feet. The leader (I never got  her name) 
stepped up to me and pulled open my blouse, ripping the buttons, leaving 
me exposed, with nothing but my bra for protection.

"Watch this, girls," she said. She pulled back her fist and in one quick, 
solid motion thrust it forward, deep into my belly again, but this time 
right into my belly button.

I was in agony. The punch penetrated deep within me, crushing my 
intestines and who knows what other sensitive internal organs. The stab 
of pain dove deep into me, spreading throughout my whole body. And she 
followed it with another punch to the same place. I wanted to retch, the 
pain was so intense. I wanted to bend over to protect my bruised stomach, 
to cradle my stomach in my arms, to prevent her from landing another 
paralyzing blow. But with the two girls holding me, I couldn't. I 
couldn't even move.

"Watch this... Machine-gun," and she started punching my stomach left, 
then right, then left again, as fast as she could, continuously.

So for the next couple minutes, all you could hear were her fists 
slapping against my soft, naked, vulnerable stomach, and the grunts 
coming from me on each punch. The pain was well beyond anything I had 
ever imagined. The pain from each punch seemed to penetrate throughout 
my whole body. Each punch drove deep into my insides, I imagine doing 
considerable internal damage. And then, she moved her target up from the 
middle of my stomach to my upper stomach, to my solar plexus. Now, each 
punch not only caused me excruciating pain, but the impact of each punch 
sent a shock throughout my whole nervous system, throughout my whole 
body, throughout my whole mind.

Slap! Woof! Slap! Woof! Slap! Woof! At a machine-gun pace. That's the 
only sounds you could hear in that deserted alley, for what seemed like 
hours. It felt like I would die. I HOPED I would die, to end the agony.

Finally she stopped.

"Hey," said another of the girls. "I've got a toy I've been itching to 
try out. Why don't you let me have a go at her."

"Be my guest," said the leader again. "We're all going to have some fun 
with her before we're done here."

And with that, the girl reached around behind her. 

My eyes were having a hard time focusing. But the glint of the setting 
sun off the bright, shiny thing in the hand of the girl stepping up to 
me drew my attention. And what I saw snapped me out of my lethargy like 
the crack of a whip. The girl was holding a hunk of metal with finger 
holes, a pair of brass knuckles.

"Congratulations!" she said as she held them up in front of my face. 
"These are virgin. You're gonna be the first one to feel them. I hope 
you feel honored."

My mind was in a panic. I could only imagine what that pound of brass 
could do to my already tenderized insides. I could only imagine the 
destruction it could do to what little stomach muscles I had left. To 
all those internal organs I was sure had already been burst open, their 
offal contents mixing and churning with each new punch.

And without further adieu, she started on me. I had had a little time to 
recover, so the pain covering my whole stomach had receded to only 
unbearable. But that first punch, deep in the middle of my belly, was 
worse than all the others together. And of course, she continued.

Whoof! Hurh! Gurg! This time, the only sounds were from me. The brass 
knuckles didn't make the slapping sound of the leader's bare fist on my 
sweat-drenched belly. There was only the sounds of my pain.

Whud! Huuh! Woof! All from me. And not a single intelligible word among 
them.

And when she moved up to my solar plexus, the sound changed. Now, it 
sounded like a drum, exactly like hitting a drum. There was that same 
reverberation, that same hollow, though muted, sound. But none of that 
was from me. The first punch paralyzed me, paralyzed my breathing. I 
couldn't make a sound at all. My whole body froze. The shock of the 
punch stopped everything. And then she drew back her fist and rammed 
that large, heavy, shiny hunk of metal deep into my solar plexus again. 
And again. And again. And each time she did, she smiled a crooked smile, 
just as the Leader had done during each of her punches to my stomach.

Again and again, her weighted fist slammed into my stomach. And after 
she got tired of pounding my upper stomach, she slowly worked her way 
around my stomach, from the left side, to the right side, to the middle, 
and down to the lower parts that had up until then, been spared. 
Fortunately, my tight jeans and broad belt protected my lower organs to 
some extent. So she went back to punching my bare, sweaty belly right at 
the navel.

By now, my stomach was numb. My mind was numb. There is only so much 
continuous pain you can take. Then your mind shuts down. So I didn't 
even realize she had stopped punching me until the leader threw a bucket 
of cold, oily water in my face, over my body. It instantly snapped my 
mind back to consciousness. And that was a bad thing. All the pain I had 
been blocking rushed back at me. My stomach was on fire. The pain was 
barely tolerable. And that was the problem. I wished it was intolerable, 
so I would black out, be spared the pain that stabbed at me with every 
breath. But that didn't happen. It just stayed there gnawing at me, like 
a lion ripping apart my stomach with its claws. Taking a bite into my 
stomach, crushing it in its strong jaws. Ripping and shaking me like a 
ragdoll, tearing all my stomach muscles out, but leaving the pain of its 
jaws behind.

"You call that a toy?" said the leader. "Now THIS is a toy! I had one of 
those bikers five blocks over make it for me," and she reached around 
behind her and pulled out a shiny hunk of metal. It was generally the 
same shape as the brass knuckles the other girl had used. But it was 
much larger and much deadlier looking. First, it was chrome plated. And 
from the way the leader swung it around, it was heavy, probably five or 
ten pounds. But that wasn't what I was worried about. Over each knuckle, 
it had a stud that projected out of it. Well, it wasn't actually a stud. 
It was more pointed and flat than that. It looked more like a set of 
short knives sticking out. I could see that you could probably dig deep 
into a tree with a punch from those. And looking closer, I saw they had 
barbed edges on them, like a circular saw-blade. So they would do as 
much damage coming out as going in. And of course, they would do so much 
more damage to a soft stomach than to a tree.

"Hold her tight, girls. This'll be fun..."

Mercifully, soon after the first punch, I passed out.

I remember only a little after that. I remember a few snippets of 
conversation between the girls after that.

Something about dumping me in the desert.

Something about ripping up my stomach some more to make sure I was dead.

Something about a bumpy car trip.

Something about the heat of the desert sand on my back.

Then nothing.

And then waking up, in the desert, at night, wearing a strange suit, 
with a strange alien talking to me from the ring on my finger.

All that I remembered in a flash.

Immediately, my hands grabbed my stomach reflexively. But it was still 
there. In fact, it didn't even hurt. Lightly at first, then deeper, I 
explored my stomach, poking and prodding. There was nothing wrong with 
it, no pain, no lingering soreness, and though I couldn't see it in the 
dark, I suspected there were no bruises. I even went as far as to punch 
myself in the stomach. It hurt, but the pain went away eventually. My 
stomach was just the same as it had been before all this had happened. 
Not any better or worse, not any stronger or weaker, but just the same. 
Just the same as it had been back... back... back when?

How long had I been here? Going by what had happened to me, I would have 
guessed it had been months. It should have taken that long for my 
stomach to have recovered completely like it had. (In fact, I should 
have been dead.) Of course, that would have been in a hospital, an Earth 
hospital I realized. Who knew how long it had taken my Alien Abductor to 
fix me up? He did say I had been dead...

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash, knocking me out of my reverie. 
On the horizon to the south, there was a bright light. It was moving 
slowly. Of course in my current state of mind, I immediately thought of 
the Alien. Maybe he was returning, maybe to take me with him this time, 
back to his home in the stars. Then reality took hold. It was a car.

The roads around the desert ran mostly directly north and south, or east 
and west. They would only veer from their course for some obstacle, like 
a streambed or a rock formation that the roadmakers didn't think it was 
worth the dynamite to blow up. So after watching the car approach for a 
little, I had a pretty good idea where the road was. From a couple quick 
calculations, assuming the car was traveling at the usual rate of speed 
in the desert, around 90 miles an hour, I figured the road was about 
five miles away to the west, and I had about 15 or 20 minutes before the 
car passed the closest point in the road to me. If I ran at top speed, 
and if the car was going slow, and if I didn't get too tired too fast 
(and if I didn't break my neck tripping in a prarie dog hole or falling 
in a ditch in the dark), I just might be able to reach the road before 
the car passed. This would probably be the only car that would be on 
that road tonight, and I most certainly didn't want to stay out here in 
the desert into the day. So with my mind now focused sharply on catching 
that car, with all thoughts of stomach punches and aliens driven from my 
mind, with a quick glance at the stars to determine where due west was, 
I started to run.

I reached the road just in time, actually with a couple minutes to spare. 
I had been running at top speed for me, the wind whistling in my ears 
loudly. But curiously, I wasn't winded from the run. At the speed I had 
been running, I should have been panting for breath well before I had 
reached the road. Another mystery of this night. Oh well. So I stood 
there by the side of the road, my arm up, almost waving, waiting for him 
to see me. 

I knew precisely when he saw me. His car swerved, almost into the other 
lane. I can guarantee he wasn't expecting to see someone standing there 
beside the road, especially someone dressed like me. But I'm getting 
ahead of myself here. After he swerved, there were a couple seconds of 
what I knew was indecision on his part. I could only imagine what was 
going through his mind... Is she real? What is she doing out here? Is 
this some kind of a scam, a trap?

Eventually, he made his decision and slammed on the breaks. He flashed 
past me at 90 miles an hour in a well-controlled four-wheel skid, his 
tires squealing loudly. I only hoped he had anti-lock breaks, otherwise 
he would have four flat spots on those tires.

I didn't wait for him to stop. I figured that if he was gentleman enough 
to stop, I could at least not make him have to back up or wait for me. 
So I took off in a dead run again. And by the time he had slid to a stop 
at the side of the road, I was already there beside him. I opened the 
car door and the light from the overhead dome light streaming out gave 
me another shock, almost as much of a shock as finding out I had been 
dead.

The light from the inside gave me my first view of what I was wearing. 
As I suspected, it was a unitard, covering my whole body. Well, almost. 
It was bright red. And as I had felt, it conformed completely to my body, 
with no wrinkles anywhere. It was incredibly thin, even to the point 
where I could see the outline of that one small mole on my thigh. And 
thinking like a woman, I immediately vowed to keep my figure, especially 
when wearing this outfit. Something I hadn't noticed (but should have, 
especially after my run), at my upper calves, the uniform blended into a 
pair of silver boots. As with the rest of the outfit, there was no seam 
between the boots and the legs. They were the only parts of the outfit 
that didn't conform tightly to my body. They molded to my feet, fitting 
almost like a pair of socks. In fact, I could wriggle my toes and they 
creased just like socks. But they must have been incredibly tough, since 
there was no sign of wear on them, even after running a few miles over 
the rock-strewn desert floor. But they still had the feel of shoes to 
some extent, as I hadn't even thought about them they felt so natural.

I said it almost covered my body? Well beside my head and hands, the 
only other bare part was my stomach. The outfit had a big hole in it at 
my stomach. Well, it was more than a hole. It was bare from my upper 
stomach down to my lower stomach. The hole followed the outline of my 
ribcage all the way to either side, straight down the sides to my 
hipbones, and followed the ridge of my hipbones down, stopping just 
short for modesty. And like elsewhere, it clung tight, not riding up or 
wrinkling, or even shifting from its position when I moved. It was as I 
had originally thought, it was like it was painted on.

One other thing I noticed. I had always had a little layer of fat over 
my stomach. It added to my shape, I thought. But I had always had a 
little paunch on my lower belly, not much, but just enough to prevent me 
from buying the most revealing bikinis I really wanted to wear. Well, it 
was gone. it was all gone. My stomach was broader and flatter than it 
had ever been. There wasn't any muscle definition there, but there 
certainly wasn't any fat there either. And the fat was gone from my 
thighs too, making them slimmer than they had been since high school. "I 
guess I should die more often," I thought perversely.

But the most startling thing wasn't what I was wearing. On my stomach 
was painted a large, red bullseye, the same shade of red as the suit. 
The center spot was about two inches in diameter, centered on my navel. 
Around it, on my now-broader and flatter stomach, were painted two large, 
concentric rings, ending just short of my sides, just before my stomach 
curved to become my sides.

"No wonder he swerved when he saw me, dressed like this," I thought.

I thanked him for stopping and got into his car. I could only imagine 
what he was thinking, a girl like me, dressed like this, alone in the 
middle of the desert. If my costume was surprising for me, it must have 
been overwhelming for him. I couldn't think of how to explain what had 
happened to me, abducted by aliens, brought back from the dead, out here 
in the desert, wearing a slinky, sexy alien uniform. So I lied.

I knew he had a lot of questions, probably ones I couldn't or didn't 
want to answer. So before he could ask, I started.

I had always been a good story teller, even if I had to make them up 
myself.  So before he could even get a chance to say anything, I started.

"Thanks for helping me. I'm in the circus and was running late to visit 
my sister in that town over there before my next show. So I took this 
shortcut through the desert she told me about. Well, I got lost and my 
car broke an axle. I need to get to her place. Then tomorrow, we can get 
it towed out of there.

"Thanks for stopping. I didn't think anyone would stop, what with me in 
my circus outfit like this. I'm a human cannonball in the circus, 
obviously, what with this target painted on me like this."

And that was all I had to say. It was just believable enough, and 
completely explained my clothes and my situation. He said he was going 
to the town, and would drop me off.

Over the next half hour (he was pushing his car over 120 miles an hour, 
probably just to impress me, of course), we talked about the "circus." 
It had been years since I had actually been to a circus. But way back, 
my favorite book had been "A Day at the Circus." And with my vivid 
imagination, and a lot of lying and story telling, we had a good 
conversation about my circus job.

It turned out that the "town" I had seen in the distance was actually 
Fresno, my home town. I told him to drop me off at a gas station, but he 
insisted on driving me to my "sister's" apartment. When we got there, I 
thanked him and got out. But on the spur of the moment, I did a 
handstand, something I hadn't done since high school. It surprised me I 
could still do one, probably as much as it surprised him. I stood there 
upside down until he drove away honking, then I tucked and rolled to my 
feet.

I made it up to my bedroom, but collapsed on the bed, falling asleep 
even before my head hit the pillow.

And though I didn't know it yet, that day Super Stomach Girl was born.

Copyright 2006 Jerry Shaw