Kostya’s head throbbed like he’d been hit with a brick—or maybe a whole damn wall. His eyelids fluttered open, and he immediately regretted it. The room was a blinding, sterile white, so bright it felt like staring into the sun after a week-long bender. He squinted, trying to piece together where the hell he was. Last thing he remembered was walking home from a late-night study session, the streetlights flickering, and then… nothing. Just a sharp, dizzying blackout.
He pushed himself up on his elbows, his skinny frame trembling slightly. The surface beneath him was cold, smooth, almost metallic. No bed, no blanket—just a slab. Panic clawed at his chest as he took in the room. No windows, no doors, just seamless walls that seemed to hum faintly, like a fridge on its last legs.
“Where the actual—” His voice cracked, and before he could finish the thought, a low, buzzing hum cut him off. It wasn’t just in the walls now; it was coming from *something*—or *someone*—approaching.
Two figures emerged from the blinding light, their forms so alien that Kostya’s brain short-circuited for a moment. They were tall, impossibly so, with elongated limbs that moved with an unsettling grace. Their skin shimmered like liquid chrome, reflecting the sterile glow of the room. Their faces—or what passed for faces—were featureless except for two glowing slits where eyes might be. And when one of them spoke, the sound was like a malfunctioning radio, static and sharp, burrowing into Kostya’s skull.
“Human specimen designated K-019. Awake. Assessment begins now,” the first figure droned, its voice grating.
Kostya blinked, his mouth opening before his brain caught up. “Excuse me, what? Specimen? Assessment? Who the hell are you people, and why am I in some sci-fi fever dream?”
The second figure stepped forward, its posture commanding, radiating an air of undeniable authority. When it spoke, the voice was still electronic, but there was a cadence to it, a sharpness that cut through the static like a knife. Female, if Kostya had to guess. And not just any female—someone used to being obeyed.
“I am Xylara, overseer of this research vessel,” she said, her glowing slits narrowing as if sizing him up. “And you, little human, are here for a purpose far beyond your feeble comprehension. So, let’s skip the theatrics. Strip.”
Kostya’s jaw dropped, a nervous laugh bubbling up. “I’m sorry, did you just say ‘strip’? Like, what, right here? In front of you and… whatever your creepy sidekick is? Hard pass, lady. I don’t even know you.”
Xylara tilted her head, the hum of her voice taking on a mocking edge. “Oh, sweet, fragile thing. You think you have a choice? How quaint. We’re studying your species’ reproductive capabilities. That requires… visibility. All of it. Now.”
Kostya crossed his arms over his chest, his heart hammering but his mouth running on autopilot. “Reproductive capabilities? What is this, some kind of intergalactic Tinder? I’m flattered, really, but I’m more of a ‘buy me dinner first’ kinda guy.”
The second alien, silent until now, let out a low, buzzing chuckle. “This one talks too much, Xylara. Shall I silence him?”
Xylara raised a long, shimmering limb, silencing her companion. “No, Vexor. Let him yap. It’s almost… endearing. Like a small, yipping creature before it’s tamed.” She stepped closer, her presence suffocating despite the lack of a discernible face. “But let me be clear, K-019. You will comply, or I will make you. And trust me, I have tools for that.”
As if on cue, she raised a small, rod-like device in her hand. It crackled with a faint blue energy, and Kostya felt a prickle of dread. “Okay, okay, let’s not get zap-happy,” he said, holding up his hands. “But can we at least negotiate? Like, maybe I keep the boxers on? For modesty’s sake?”
Xylara’s hum grew sharper, almost a laugh. “Modesty? On a specimen? You humans are so delightfully absurd. No, K-019. Everything comes off. Slowly. I want to observe every inch of your pathetic little form.”
Kostya’s cheeks burned, his snark faltering for a moment under the weight of her command. “Pathetic? Wow, you really know how to sweet-talk a guy. Fine. But just so you know, I’m only doing this under duress. And I’m charging you for the show.”
“Charge away,” Xylara purred, her tone dripping with mockery. “I’m sure your currency is as worthless as your resistance.”
With a groan, Kostya started with his sneakers, kicking them off with exaggerated slowness just to piss her off. “Happy now, Your Majesty? Or do I need to twirl for you too?”
“Keep going,” Xylara ordered, unfazed. “And less mouth, more action. Vexor, note the subject’s defiance. It may correlate with hormonal imbalances.”
Vexor’s hum sounded amused. “Noted. Though I suspect it’s just… what do they call it? Sass?”
Kostya shot Vexor a glare as he shrugged off his hoodie, revealing a plain t-shirt clinging to his lean frame. “Oh, great, now I’m being psychoanalyzed by a walking disco ball. Fantastic.”
Xylara stepped closer, her energy crackling with impatience. “Faster, human. Or I’ll peel those rags off myself. And I assure you, my touch is far less gentle than your clumsy little hands.”
The threat sent a shiver down Kostya’s spine, but he masked it with a smirk. “Promises, promises. Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m not exactly a gym bro.”
He tugged off his shirt, tossing it aside with a dramatic flourish, then hesitated at the waistband of his jeans. Xylara’s glowing slits seemed to bore into him, and he felt the weight of her gaze like a physical touch. “Seriously, though,” he muttered, “this is the weirdest day of my life.”
“Less talking,” Xylara snapped, brandishing the zap-rod again. A tiny arc of electricity danced along its tip, and Kostya flinched.
“Alright, alright, sheesh!” He fumbled with the button of his jeans, sliding them down with a grimace, stepping out of them until he stood in just his boxers. His skin prickled in the cold air of the room, and he crossed his arms defensively. “There. Happy now?”
Xylara’s hum was almost predatory. “Not quite. The undergarment, K-019. Remove it. Now.”
Kostya groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re relentless, you know that? What’s next, a full-body scan with a side of humiliation?”
“Precisely,” Xylara replied, her tone icy. “And if you keep stalling, I’ll ensure the scan is… particularly thorough.”
With a muttered curse, Kostya hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and shoved them down, kicking them aside with as much dignity as he could muster—which wasn’t much. He stood there, bare and vulnerable, his face burning as he tried to cover himself with his hands.
Xylara’s hum took on a satisfied note. “Adequate. For a human. Vexor, escort the specimen to the secondary lab. The initial probes await.”
“Probes?!” Kostya yelped, his voice cracking. “What kind of probes? Can we talk about this?”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Xylara said, turning away as if he were already dismissed. “You’re ours now, K-019. Behave, and this will be… tolerable. Resist, and I’ll enjoy breaking that sharp tongue of yours.”
Vexor stepped forward, a long limb gesturing toward an unseen exit that shimmered into existence in the wall. Kostya stumbled along as he was marched out of the sterile room and into a cavernous space filled with glowing equipment—tubes, panels, and things that looked suspiciously like needles. His stomach churned as he eyed a table in the center, restraints gleaming under the eerie light.
“Oh, hell no,” he muttered under his breath, already plotting a way out, no matter how futile. “I’m not sticking around for whatever freaky science fair project you’ve got planned.”
Xylara’s voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and unyielding, as if she’d read his mind. “Dream of escape if it comforts you, little human. But know this: every step you take, I’m watching. And I promise, things will only get more interesting from here.”
Kostya swallowed hard, his snark momentarily silenced by the cold certainty in her tone. But as Vexor nudged him toward the table, he couldn’t help but mutter, “Interesting for who? ‘Cause I’m already over it.”
Xylara’s buzzing laugh echoed through the lab, a sound that promised nothing good. And as Kostya was strapped down, his mind raced with half-formed plans and a growing realization that he was in way over his head.
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