They’re Not Saying That It’s Aliens, But It’s Aliens

📅 Published on January 6, 2022

“They’re Not Saying That It’s Aliens, But It’s Aliens”

Written by The Vesper's Bell
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

ESTIMATED READING TIME — 12 minutes

Rating: 9.67/10. From 3 votes.
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I’m sure you’ve seen the headlines by now.  Seen and probably forgot about, since the news cycle has already left them behind for whatever you’re supposed to be outraged about and terrified of this week.

In case you actually did forget, allow me to refresh your memory; UFOs are real.  The United States military has admitted it’s been encountering them for decades.  Sure, they prefer the slightly less stigmatized term of Unidentified Aerial Phenomena, and they insist that they have no reason to believe they’re actually alien spacecraft…but they won’t rule it out either.

In other words, they’re not saying that it’s aliens; but it’s aliens!  Now, I’m sure that the more skeptically inclined among you are certain that these UFOs – I beg your pardon; UAPs – are probably just some previously unknown meteorological phenomena, or even just misidentified mundane phenomena.  The old swamp gas and weather balloons story, right?  And even if you are willing to admit they’re aircraft of some kind, they’re probably just classified tech that no one wants to admit to.  Because if someone did possess technology centuries beyond anything else on Earth, the last thing they’d want to do is openly capitalize on that technology, right?

Well, as much as I hate to destroy those rather comforting delusions, I know for a fact that the UFOs the military are referring to are, in fact, not of this Earth in origin.  I know that because I’ve been inside of one.

It was last fall, just after dark, and I was driving through northern Ontario without another soul in sight.  In retrospect, I was lost, but at the time, I was too stubborn to admit that to myself and pull over to check my phone for directions.  I kept telling myself ‘I’ll see a sign pointing me back towards Highway 11 sooner or later.’

But, that’s at best tangential to my story.  All that matters is that I was driving alone and at night down a deserted stretch of barely paved road in the Canadian wilderness when my car suddenly died on me.  And I mean completely and totally died.  The engine, the battery, everything just cut out at once without any warning.

Panicking, I slammed on the brakes, and thankfully those still worked, so I came to a stop before I flew into the ditch or went spinning out of control.  Once I was stopped, though, I was stuck.  I tried turning the engine back on, of course, but I couldn’t even rev it.  Turning the ignition accomplished absolutely nothing.  I tried turning both my headlights and interior lights on and off several times, but I remained surrounded by utter darkness without so much as a flicker.

After that, my first impulse was, of course to reach for my phone, only to see that it was dead too.  Had there been an EMP or something?  I couldn’t think of anything else that could have simultaneously caused both my car and my phone to so suddenly and completely die like that.

As I sat alone in the dark contemplating both the odds and implications of a wide-spread EMP attack, I was suddenly immersed in a blinding white light.  It was vibrating and making this weird whooshing sound like what you hear when you put a conch shell to your ear.  It was so loud that if I had been screaming, I didn’t hear it.  The light pulled me upwards, and I passed through my seatbelt and even my car roof like they weren’t even there.  I felt myself tumbling up higher and higher, faster and faster for what must have been at least several minutes until I finally came to a stop.

The intensity of the beam surrounding me subsided considerably, and I was able to get a look at my surroundings.  I was in some sort of hangar, filled with a multitude of ellipsoid pods of varying sizes.  Everything in sight was made from a smooth, softly glowing opalescent substance.  There were no sharp angles, with all edges and protrusions being softly curved.  What stood out to me the most, however, was that the pods were parked along every side of the interior with no designated floor, walls, or ceiling, as if the entire structure had been designed for microgravity where there was no such thing as up and down.

The one exception to this was the translucent porthole beneath me, revealing that I was in a vessel very high above the Earth’s surface, quite possibly in low-Earth orbit.

As beautiful and awe-inspiring as that view was, I didn’t get to enjoy it for long.  A small, faint laser or particle beam was emitted from a seemingly random point in the hangar walls, and it struck me in between the eyes.  Within seconds I lost all bodily sensation, and I realized that I had been paralyzed.  I was initially horrified, but within a few more seconds, this also passed, as the beam seemed to have had a sedative effect as well.

I didn’t lose consciousness, though.  I was still fully aware of everything that was happening around me.  I was held in place for about a minute until, presumably, my captors were convinced that I had been subdued.  The beam holding me in place was released, and another beam began pushing me across the hangar and down a corridor until I ended up in an examination room of some kind.  I was once again held in place by another white beam, and I found myself surrounded by four feminine, humanoid entities.

They were each about five feet tall, and none of them looked like they would weigh even a hundred pounds in Earth’s gravity.  Their skin was smooth, glossy, hairless, and strangest of all, technicolored.  One of the creatures was rose, one lavender, one pink, and the other teal.  They didn’t wear any clothing, but their bodies were decorated by hundreds of small, luminous diodes embedded into their skin, shining like stars and arranged into gracefully curving patterns that were unique to each of them.

I saw that their feet were prehensile and that they each possessed a long, prehensile tail wrapped around a shared perching ring to hold themselves in place.  Their gracile fingers and toes had no nails on them, and while they did have five digits on each hand, in place of a pinky they had a second thumb.  There were several horizontal slits over their lower tracheas, capped with a small gem over their larynxes.  On each side of their neck and above their collarbones were small, cephalopod-like siphons, which I presumed to be redundant airways into their lungs.

As for their heads, these did bear a bit more of a resemblance to the standard pop-culture depiction of aliens.  They had pointy chins, small mouths, and noses that were hardly more than bumps with nostrils.  Their eyes were big, though, with dark sclerae and large, glittering irises that matched their skin tone.  They had curvilinear lines etched into them as well, and I got the impression that either the eyes, or at least the lenses, were bionic.

What stood out most of all though were their elongated skulls with elliptical, crystalline computer modules embedded into their sides, along with a smaller teardrop-shaped module embedded into the forehead.  I knew they were computers of some kind because I could see what looked like neural pathways flickering faintly inside of them.

I could only assume that what I was looking at was some sort of bio-engineered and cybernetically augmented species that had been designed to live and function in a three-dimensional, micro-gravity environment.  I noted that each girl did have a navel, which presumably meant they developed in a womb at some point, either natural or artificial.  Probably artificial, as I didn’t see how their big heads could pass through their narrow hips.

But they still seemed far too human-looking to be aliens.  Sure, it was conceivable that convergent evolution might result in something vaguely humanoid evolving on an alien world, but these girls were basically Star Trek aliens, for God’s sake.  Did that mean that they were humans from the future, or a parallel universe, or a human subspecies that aliens had modified at some point?  I still don’t know the answer.

The rose girl took notice that my gaze was lingering on her naked body in a manner that was admittedly less scientific than the description I’ve provided here.  She arched a hairless eyebrow at me in an expression that suggested that I was not the first man she had ever met.

She held up her right hand and moved her fingers about as if she was tapping some invisible buttons.  Suddenly my clothes phased through my body just as I had phased through my car earlier, leaving me as naked as my captors.

They all gave me a satisfied smile, evidently preferring that we be on an even playing field.  The pink, teal, and lavender girls all snatched some of my clothing as it floated away.  They examined it curiously for a moment before tossing it aside in revulsion, both its texture and scent seeming to have offended them.

The rose girl – apparently, the one in charge – began to speak in a melodious language, the slits over her trachea opening and closing like keys on a wind instrument.  I couldn’t understand a word of it, of course, but it seemed much more complex and information-dense than any natural human language, one that required superhuman memory and cognition to speak fluently.  For several minutes, she seemed to be lecturing her subordinates about me, all of whom listened with rapt interest.

As they spoke, another four of the entities floated by behind them, this group led by a goldenrod girl.  They smiled at me as they passed, and I saw that some of their diodes weren’t just glowing but producing small jets of light that were effortlessly propelling them forward.  Presumably, they worked on the same principle as the beam that was holding me in place.

When the rose girl finished speaking, she gestured to the other three to move in and examine me up close.  Using the same light-based propulsion as the entities that had just passed, the three girls jetted over to me and began to playfully probe my every nook and cranny.  My hair seemed especially novel to them, and they took turns petting my head, beard, eyebrows, chest, arms, legs, and pubic region.  My genitalia, on the other hand, was, humiliatingly, rather amusing to them.  They seemed to think of it as a weird and short tail that was on the wrong side.  On the other hand, they were at least a little impressed by my more heavily muscled frame.  If these girls lived their entire lives in micro-gravity, extra muscle mass would only have been a waste of calories.

The teal girl pulled open my jaw and began inspecting my mouth, and as she did, I saw her blink a pair of nictitating membranes over her eyes.  I also noticed that behind each of her small ears there was some sort of neural port or antenna that seemed to be connected to the computer modules on her head.

The teal girl soon withdrew from my mouth with the same revulsion she had shown to my clothes and stuck to a purely external examination from there on out.  She and her two companions prodded at my neck where their extra air holes were, they studied my one-thumbed hands, my thumbless feet, my nails, and most of all, they examined my skin.  Every scar, every mole, every blemish seemed to fascinate them, not to mention that the singular gradient of brown that human skin came in was likely incredibly dull to these brightly colored beings.

They cooed, sang, and giggled as they scrutinized my body until the rose girl called them back to the perching ring.  They obeyed without complaint, ritualistically waving their hands over one another as their diodes glowed more brightly, likely sanitizing them.  As soon as they were in place, their leader once again began tapping virtual buttons that only she could see.

Vertical and horizontal scanning beams began going up and down and back and forth, over and over again, as they imaged my body down to a microscopic level.  I desperately hoped that those scans were benign and not made of some sort of dangerous particle radiation that modern physicists had yet to even theorize about.  I tried to remain as calm as I could, telling myself that these beings were just curious and meant no harm.  How malicious could a hyper-advanced species of candy-colored, naked space girls really be, right?

That’s when another beam pierced through my chest, and pulled out my heart.

I know that it actually pulled my heart out and wasn’t just making a hologram of it or something, because the instant I saw my heart phase out of my chest, the pounding in my ears turned into a constant, rushing stream.  The beam was circulating my blood for me, keeping me on life support as the rose girl casually commented on my disembodied heart to her subordinates.

It was still beating.  I have no idea how, but the beam that was holding it was keeping it alive without me the same as it was keeping me alive without it.  I was still being scanned during all of this, presumably because they wanted to know how the fuck I would react to having my heart taken out of my fucking chest!  The heart was being scanned, too, with enlarged holographic projections appearing around it.  A smaller beam removed a small biopsy and placed it in a crystalline, egg-shaped container that the girls all took turns examining.

Then, when they were finally done with it, my heart floated back towards me, phased back into my chest, and somehow immediately reintegrated itself on a cellular level.  I could feel it beating again.  It would have been impossible not to since it was beating as hard as I could ever remember it beating, but I cannot even begin to fathom how that was scientifically possible.  How could any technology, no matter how advanced, remove and replace bodily organs as easily as batteries in a toy car?

However they did it, my heart was back where it belonged.  Then the beam moved over a few inches to the left, pulled out my lung, and the process repeated all over again.  Then again with my other lung, and then with my liver, and over, and over, and over again.  Organs, bones, and tissues were removed, scanned, sampled, and then returned as if they had never been gone at all.

For hours, I was taken apart and put back together.  It was terrifying, degrading, and exhausting, but at the very least, it wasn’t painful.  The beam wasn’t actually doing any damage, and whatever it was doing to temporarily fill in for the missing body parts also seemed to numb the area.  I still wondered why they needed or wanted me conscious for all this, though, and there was no doubt that they knew I was conscious.  It was inconceivable that their scanners couldn’t tell the difference between a conscious and unconscious human, and they could clearly see my eyes frantically darting around as they vivisected me.  The only explanation was that they just didn’t care what they were putting me through.

Eventually, the pink, teal, and lavender girls began to yawn and stretch, apparently having grown bored with the tedious work of cataloging all my innards.  As the last of my organs was put back into place, the rose girl spoke to them in a tone that suggested they were just about finished.  She put the last of the biopsies away and pulled out another crystal egg, opening it to reveal a rolled-up mesh woven from crystalline filaments.

She summoned a hologram that depicted the mesh phasing into my skull, being placed onto my brain and then getting absorbed into it, its many filaments fraying into smaller strands that branched off throughout my grey matter.  The vivisection beam was precisely targeted at my forehead, and when she was certain it was positioned correctly, she placed the crystal mesh into the beam.

I watched helplessly as it silently floated towards me and passed through my skull without any resistance at all.  The integration into my body took a little longer than it did with my own organs, the rose girl appearing to administer multiple system checks and subsequent recalibrations.  Eventually, she got it the way she wanted it, and it seemed my ordeal was finally over.

I was hoping that would mean that I would be released, but instead of going back to the hangar, a door opened straight ahead of me.  The beam began pushing me forward, and my tormentors followed right alongside me.  We went down a long corridor and then into a smaller lab, this one filled with human-sized crystalline pods.

Human-sized, because they were filled with human beings.

They were all suspended in a fetal position, their scalps surgically removed to reveal a brain where the crystalline mesh had exploded into a dense tangle of fibers, growing like weeds and feeding into a series of two-meter tall, ellipsoid crystals.  The people’s eyes moved rapidly beneath closed lids, revealing that even if they weren’t awake, they weren’t unconscious either.  They were dreaming, dreams controlled by a crystalline supercomputer, programmed by the same strange beings that had spent the past several hours vivisecting me.

The four girls from earlier were monitoring the grisly experiment but stopped to enthusiastically embrace the arrival of their companions.  The goldenrod girl and rose girl greeted each other with a hug and a nuzzle before turning their attention towards me.  They spoke in their complex, melodic language as the neural nets within their crystal head modules flickered more brightly, likely an indicator of information transfer.  The goldenrod girl appeared to take a moment to review the data and then moved in to inspect me personally.

Unlike the three girls before, whose examination of me felt like it had been driven by sheer novel curiosity, this felt like a far more practiced inspection.  After scrutinizing every inch of my body, she floated in front of me and pressed her forehead to mine.  The module on her forehead lit up, and for a single instant, I was bombarded with a surge of complex mental information that I couldn’t possibly begin to interpret.

She pulled her head back and smiled at me, patted my chest and sang what sounded like a ‘this one’s good’  to her associate.  I thought this meant I was going into one of the pods so that my brain could be used as potting soil for whatever they had stuck inside of me.  In spite of my exhaustion, that horrifying prospect was enough to arouse me back to full alertness.  I fought desperately to put up some kind of a fight before going down, but my body just wouldn’t obey.

The last thing I saw was the rose girl pressing some virtual buttons again, and then I lost consciousness.  When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed over a hundred kilometers from where my car would later be discovered.  They had found me, naked and unconscious outside the emergency entrance in the wee hours of the morning.  Strangely enough, the security cameras had inexplicably shut down right before my appearance, so they had no idea how I had gotten there.  Their first thought was that I was drunk or had overdosed on something, but I tested clean for everything.  They couldn’t explain why I was unconscious, and when I woke up, I was rambling incoherently about being vivisected and brain chipped by floating, sparkly nudists from outer space.

As you can probably guess, I was put under psychiatric observation.  The doctors could find no evidence that my organs had been removed and put back in, and the mesh I was implanted with doesn’t show up on brain scans.

It’s still there, though.  I know because, every now and then, I get a sudden surge of information out of nowhere that I can’t begin to understand.  I know that the mesh is communicating with its mothership, sending updates and receiving new instructions.  I don’t know what it’s doing to my brain or if it’s influencing my thoughts or behaviors in any way.  I do dream of them, though, dream of parts of the ship I was never in, of members of their species I never met, participating in activities I never witnessed.

I hear their language in my dreams, even though I don’t know what any of it means.  Well, except for one word.  I think that their name for their species translates to Astrasirena, or Star Sirens.  I can’t find any other account of alien abduction involving them, or even one where the ship didn’t have artificial gravity like in every SciFi TV show.  Could it be that I’m the only person the Sirens ever sent back, or at least the only one who was conscious during the experience and allowed to keep their memories?  The only thing I’m sure of is that one day, the thing they put in my head will start to sprout, and when it does, they’ll be back to put me in their demented crystal garden with the others.

So, please, take it from me.  Even though the government still isn’t saying that Unidentified Aerial Phenomenon are aliens…it’s aliens.

Rating: 9.67/10. From 3 votes.
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🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available


Written by The Vesper's Bell
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

🔔 More stories from author: The Vesper's Bell


Publisher's Notes: N/A

Author's Notes: N/A

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Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

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