Vlad woke to a world of blinding white. The walls, the ceiling, the floor—everything was a sterile, unblemished ivory that seemed to pulse with an unnatural glow. His head throbbed like he’d been hit with a brick, and the last thing he remembered was the salty sting of ocean spray on his face, laughing with his buddies on the beach. Now, he was sprawled on a cold, hard surface, wearing nothing but his ratty board shorts, his bare chest prickling with goosebumps.
“What the actual hell…” he muttered, pushing himself up on shaky arms. His voice echoed faintly, swallowed by the eerie stillness of the room. No windows, no doors—just an endless expanse of white. His sneakers, phone, and backpack were nowhere in sight. Neither were his friends. “Yo, guys! This ain’t funny! If this is some kinda prank, I’m gonna kick your sorry asses!”
Silence answered him. His heart kicked up a notch, a cold sweat beading on his forehead. He stumbled to his feet, palms pressing against the smooth walls, searching for any seam or crack. Nothing. It was like being trapped inside a giant eggshell.
Before he could spiral further into panic, a low hum vibrated through the room. A section of the wall shimmered and dissolved, revealing two figures stepping through. They were tall, impossibly thin, with skin like polished alabaster and eyes that glinted like wet obsidian. Their movements were jerky, almost mechanical, and when one of them spoke, the words came out in a fractured, guttural attempt at Russian.
“Stoy. Ne dvigaysya,” it barked, voice like gravel scraping against metal. *Stand. Do not move.*
Vlad froze, his mouth going dry. “Uh… what? Who are you freaks? Where am I?” His voice cracked, betraying the bravado he was trying to muster. He took a step back, only to bump into the unyielding wall behind him.
The second figure tilted its head, studying him like a lab rat. “Molchi. Idi s nami,” it commanded. *Quiet. Come with us.*
“No way, buddy. I’m not going anywhere until someone explains why I’m in this creepy-ass snow globe!” Vlad snapped, folding his arms over his chest, though his knees were practically knocking together.
The first figure made a sharp gesture, and before Vlad could react, an invisible force tugged at his limbs, dragging him forward. “Hey! Hands off, you weirdo! I can walk!” he yelped, stumbling as he was pulled through the shimmering wall.
On the other side was a laboratory straight out of a nightmare. The room was still blindingly white, but it was filled with grotesque machinery—pulsing tubes, sharp metallic instruments, and devices that looked like they’d been designed to dissect something… or someone. A faint, acrid smell hung in the air, like burnt wiring and antiseptic. Vlad’s stomach churned.
“What is this, Area 51’s discount cousin?” he muttered, trying to mask his fear with humor. “You gonna probe me or what? ‘Cause I’m telling you right now, I’m not into that kinky alien stuff.”
“Molchi!” the first figure snapped again, shoving him toward a sleek, metallic table in the center of the room. Restraints snapped shut around his wrists and ankles before he could even think to bolt. “Hey! Watch it, you overgrown Q-tip! I’m not your damn guinea pig!”
A new voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding, dripping with authority. “Enough of your childish whining, human.” The words were in perfect, accented English, laced with a cold amusement that sent a shiver down Vlad’s spine. He craned his neck to see a third figure stepping into view—a female, or at least something resembling one. She was taller than the others, her form statuesque and imposing, with the same alabaster skin but a presence that radiated control. Her eyes, a piercing silver, pinned him in place as if she could see straight through to his soul.
“Whoa, lady, who died and made you queen of the creepshow?” Vlad shot back, though his voice wavered. “How ‘bout you let me outta these cuffs, and we can talk this out over coffee? My treat.”
Her lips curled into a smirk, but there was no warmth in it. “Charming. But I’m not here for your pathetic attempts at flirtation, boy. You’ve been selected. That’s all you need to know.” She snapped her fingers, and one of the other beings scurried forward with a buzzing device that looked like a cross between a razor and a torture tool.
“Selected for what? A makeover? ‘Cause I’m rocking this beach bum look just fine,” Vlad quipped, though his bravado was crumbling as the device hummed closer to his skin.
“Silence,” she barked, her tone slicing through his words like a blade. “You will comply, or I will ensure your compliance is… unpleasant. We begin with preparation.” She nodded to the minion, who activated the device. In a matter of seconds, it glided over his body—arms, legs, torso—stripping away every hair below his neck with ruthless efficiency. The sensation wasn’t painful, but it left him feeling raw, exposed, and utterly humiliated as he lay there, bare and vulnerable under their unblinking gazes.
“Oh, come on! What’s next, a spray tan? You gonna turn me into a Ken doll?” Vlad tried to laugh, but it came out more like a nervous wheeze. “At least buy me dinner first, sheesh.”
The female entity stepped closer, looming over him. Her silver eyes glinted with something dangerous, maybe even intrigued. “Keep talking, little human. I enjoy breaking spirits like yours. It makes the process… entertaining.” She gestured to another device, this one larger, with tendrils of energy crackling along its surface. It hummed with a low, menacing energy as it was positioned near his lower abdomen.
Vlad swallowed hard, his bravado faltering. “Uh, what’s that thing supposed to do? Give me abs of steel? ‘Cause I’m already pretty ripped, if you hadn’t noticed.”
She leaned in, her voice a low, mocking purr. “Oh, I’ve noticed. And I’ll enjoy testing just how much endurance that body of yours has. This is merely the beginning.” Her gaze flicked to the device, and a sharp pulse of electricity arced from it, hovering just above his skin. “Let’s see how you handle a little… stimulation.”
Vlad’s eyes widened, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wait, wait, wait! Can we negotiate? I’m great at trivia! Or, uh, I can sing! You don’t wanna zap me, right? Right?!”
Her smirk widened as she gave the order to her minions in a language he couldn’t understand. The device whirred louder, the electric pulses inching closer. Vlad’s breath hitched, torn between terror and a strange, inexplicable pull toward this commanding figure who seemed to revel in his helplessness. As the first jolt of energy grazed his skin, sending a shock through his system, he couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he’d stumbled into—and whether he’d survive long enough to find out.
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