The Subdivisions of Zeta - Ch.1

Info Xenosmilus
13 Jun. '17

I came home from work at my shit-ass job, heated up some food dad left out for me, and popped open one of those fruity malt liquors I got myself. I was hoping dad would be sleep when I did. And yay, he is. I don’t have to go to work tomorrow, so I’m gonna get smashed as all get out.

I take off my Burger Pimp uniform, and the hat with the cow with a gold tooth and a cane. At least I’m not working at Shit ‘N’ Shake, where they make you scrape the thick layers of burnt black grease and meat off the bottom of the fryer, and then plop the chunk into a giant bun and sell it with a shake. I wonder, whatta they do with the actual  hamburger meat they cook to make the black grease gunk they sell? Ah, well. At least I'm not there.
The microwave beeps loudly, and I hear dad yell if it’s me. I can legally drink, but still, I don’t want dad seeing my hillbilly-drunkard sized can of malt liquor.

“Todd, did you get the corn beef and cabbage?”

“Yep.” I yell back.

“Good. Did you go to your auntie’s and get that bullshit off your head?”

I had a huge afro. HAD. Even grew the big pork chops like a bad ass detective from the 70’s too. My hair is naturally red. Weird, I know. Black people with red hair. But dad says it's more common than people think in East Africa. He's from Sudan. He says it used to be Nubia or something... I don't know. I don't know anything about anywhere except my little crap town. Born and raised here. I'm a god at Analrim, though. I love fantasy. I like to think in another life, I'm a dark elf. My skin is literally black. My hair is naturally red. My eyes are naturally almond-shaped and light brown. So, I mean...if I got my ears pointed, then maybe?

But that's besides the point.

I thought my fro was pretty boss. Like a... Shaft meets Drizzt Do'Urden kinda thing. You know? But, yeah.


So now, I’m BORING. Very thin braids. I look like a redhead Egyptian hieroglyph skater trash. My skin is almost literally jet black. Nubia or something was Sudan, or vice versa. Or something. My dad is from there. Again, I don't know. I don't keep up with that stuff.

Dad’s a chef at some snooty hotel too, but yeah. I just hope things get better so I don’t ever have to go to Burger Pimp again unless I’m ordering a Big Moe Burger with Simp Sauce and Cringe Dip.

I flop in the raggedy chair and flip on the TV. I’m going to eat, then see what this can does for me, and enjoy my first day off in 8 months. The TV flips on, it’s Dope-Head Swim. For those people who drop acid or get so drunk they can’t speak, and then watch colors for 5 hours. Literally, that’s all it is. Melting colors and someone stirring paint to the sounds of pigs mating for 5 hours consecutively.

Fuck this shit.

I turned to PTS. The Family-Bullshit Show is on. Where different people from various eroticas come on the show over paternity issues. Obviously, I mean, a cat woman takes 5 creampies from Frankenstein, somebody’s getting pregnant. Succubi, beast people, vampires, they're all on the show raising hell. There's queen of the succubi and a ghost sitting next to each other, berating some computer technician.

It’s just bullshit and drama.

What else would you rather watch?

I slop all my cornbeef and then get ready to enjoy this can. Most I’ve ever had was about 2 light beers with the guys. Well… here goes...




************************ [ 15 Minutes Lay-Duh ]********************************

It did not go as I thought it would.

My world feels like I’m in a tilt-a-whirl that refuses to stop. My vision is blurry. My speech is slurred. My dick is hard. And Dope-Head Swim has never been as interesting to me as it is now. I think… I’m going to lay down.

Annnnd I crawled to my bedroom on my belly like a crocodile. Thank Santa Claus that dad was sleep. Praise him. He makes toys for our sins.

But everybody knows Santa doesn’t exist. Neither do bumble bees because science says they can’t fly. Nor sharks near Greenland. Or snakes that hibernate in ice.

Because science.

And all our science now, even with all it’s limitations, and our hard wall limit of tech, is absolute unquestionable fact, never to be questioned.

Questioning science is heresy.


Didn't they burn heretics at the stakes?

Praise Santa Claus. And peace be unto Nietsche, who’s face must always be erased out.


I climb up my blanket like a monkey mixed with a slug, and flop in my bed. My drunk-boner screams for me to text my female friend. But that shit’s too complicated. She likes to fart and send me photos of her wounds, and even though she’s the whitest person in the world, she won’t stop knocking me over the head that because she’s 2% Native American, her “new name is Wolf-Fox Angel Feather.” And that her “people” understand my Sudanese Nubian history.

Or something.
I wasn’t paying attention.

A new box of Lovehammer tabletop miniatures in the mail will do that to you.

I thought I was just Todd, her coworker, who has to work his happy ass at Burger Pimp. But whatever. She has awesome breasts. Oh, and she keeps annoying the actual Native American girl named Beth Annaheim, who everyone thinks is Hispanic or Filipino, and who dresses like anybody else. But you know… people. I hope Beth doesn't throw a fistful of Redneck Fries at her again. All that stringy yellow hair full of grease is a mess.

And speaking of grease... I greazzze into my bed like a slob, because I don’t care right now. My ceiling is doing the Nae Nae and my stomach wants to break dance. I drift off to sleep, too drunk to wonder if my window is really glowing or if I should leave anymore cans of Right-Wing Redneck Nip alone. Stuff is too strong. Maybe Liberal All-Of-Uz Guzzle is more my speed?

As I fall off into the dark of sleep, everything gets brighter. And brighter. Shit, this is some serious potency. My window glows like a bug-zapper. And I hear it open. The house suddenly fills with a weird mist,

I see what looks like little brown lizard men with flat faces and tiny brown eyes slink in my room. They are dressed in grey skin-tight body suits, with huge black goggles, and hand-mounted tranq-tazer pistols that just seem to be long fingers of their gloves. The one in front is in nothing but what looks like Buddhist robes.

I feel too drunk to care.

One of them points his long grey fingers at me. But the robed one holds his hand up, stopping them. At first, they seem to psychically communicate in silence. But as I listen more carefully, I realize they’re using extremely quiet hisses and coordinated sighs to talk to one another. Breaths and sighs that make normal human breath sound like a blasting radio.

The leader approaches me, looking down. His beady brown eyes remind me of a bird’s or a lizard’s. His skin is brown and scaly. He reminds me of a grumpy little dinosaur man. But his soldiers in suits in the back look like those “Greys” things. Hazmat suits, huh? His eyes look like he wants to smile, they move like a bird’s, showing emotion since his face doesn't have the muscles in it, so he can't use it to show emotion. His eyes communicate that he’s friendly. He opens his mouth, full of tiny sharp teeth, to speak wisdom to me. An elder from beyond the stars... untold years old... visitor of galaxies. Using my primitive mammal sound style of communication to impart on me wisdom that may change my eternal concepts of reality forever…

“Wuz good, n*gga?”

..........ooooh-kay then. Y'know what? I’m too drunk to care. I just... I just answer…and just...go with it.

“Nothin’. I don’t feel too good. What’s up with you?”

“You know how a space-lizard n***a do. Ain't no lackin', n*gga, real talk! We ride drill time on these bitches. I ain’t play no games.”

“…umm…………..ohhhhh kay. Well….do your thing, dude.”

Drill time, n***a!!!” hisses one of the “Greys” from behind him. Throwing up some...kind of signs. Honestly, I don’t know one gang from another. I know the video game with H.P. and Grand Larceny: San Hogwartz. But that’s about it. The one Grey gets up in my face. “Where the Asari at, homie?! We bought to pull them blue caps back, ain't no lackin'! Zeta 2 Reticuli ain’t nuthin to fuck wiff!!!”

“Umm…. Asari are not real, dude. They’re from a video game….”

Part of me wonders why in the hell they talk like 90's thugs. Is it because I'm black? It must be becau....wait a minute. THEY'RE NOT EVEN HUMAN!! Could they even tell one race from the other? Because all of them are different races, I sure can't tell. They're skin tight suits that make them look like Greys.

Am I in the Y-Files? Maybe I'm just dreaming.

The leader settles him down. His 3 fingered, scaly and clawed hand gently pets my forehead like a centuries-old elder, imparting peace through gesture.

“Yo’ genes mad nice AZ FUCK!”

“…….......uh, thank you?”

“Sh’yeah. Y’all humans know y’all all just 3 subspecies all mixed up into some new shit, right?”

“……...I... did not.”

“Shyeah! Blonde neanderthals. South Eastern Eurasia Denisovan/Heidelbergs. And Modern Man from Africa. But all y’all today is just all 3 uh them bitches, mixed up into some new bitches. S-s-s-see, them 3 hoes, were all fuckin' each other back in the day, you feel me?"


"And so, when one species ah ho, got knocked up by the other species ah ho, then the new y'all hoes. Feel me?"

So...3 species of humanity all intermarried and mixed together to produce all of us on Earth now. I got it. But the eloquency of his explanation cannot be denied.

"Y'know what I'm sayin', ho?”

“…ummmmmmm…<.<......>.>…sure.” :D

The leader waves me off, moving as if some hood thug from a hood movie.

“Man, fuck this primitive ass n***a, my n***a. This bitch can’t even rock wit Omega-Calculus Sixff. Tag-bag that ho, Pookie.”

I feel a slight poke and sting. Then everything goes black.

I wake up to… the cavvy sounds of...gangsta rap?! But, there’s hissing and sighing instead of...human talking. I hate to admit it sounds like it's a fire mixtape. I open my eyes slowly to see I’m totally naked, strapped to a metal stretcher, and in a massive round room. As if I’m in a giant auto shop, mixed with a hospital. All the lights are dark red, nothing like the popular stories. Huge boxes beep and coordinate. I feel like Predator with his mask off. Everything is dark red in here due to the lights. I guess THEY see better in this?

I see stasis chambers along the walls and floors, like a sci-fi movie’s glass-topped beds. The people are sleep inside. But I can hardly see in this infrared light.

I feel weird, as if I just woke out of surgery. But there’s no pain. My throat is dry. Vision blurry. I feel kind of warm. My groin feels numb.

I look up to see a very tall reptile creature with a leather hat made from human skin and hair on it. Is he wearing a long-haired woman's scalp?! No... I look closer, and my fears are put away. It’s fake, a rubber cap. Fake doll hair on it. This "hat" makes him look stupid. He looks down at me.

"I see you lookin’. Ya boi stay stylin’ on 'em.”

I see more tall reptiles like him, 7 feet tall….wait, no. They’re in stilt suits, that look like they’re 7 feet. Realistic looking “Grey alien” arms extend down from their shoulders. The suits look so biologically real. Futuristic rubber? They're all busily working on sleeping people. Rows of beds, these “doctors”, machines beeping and moving the beds to sleeping chambers.

“A lizza STAY lookin’ good. Ya boy gonna get all the egg-layin' hoes.”

“Hell you talkin’ to?” yells a familiar hiss. I see it’s the leader from my bedro-


I feel a sting, and everything goes black again. The last thing I hear is being called a “Stank bitch.”


I awaken on the asphalt of a lonely, quiet, stretch of road. I feel cotton-mouthed, thirsty, and like I just took a loooong, refreshing nap. I'm in a greyish-blue hoodie, khaki shorts and gym shoes.

The ground is dusty and dry. The air is warm and breezy. The edges of the road are filled with thick oceans of young tree forests.

I swear I must be in Nevada or Texas.

I notice my old book bag on the ground next to me. I haven’t used it for YEARS. It’s filled with supplies. Even has all the buttons and drawings still on it.

I’m dreaming. Yep. A dream. I will never, ever drink a tallboy of 9% Alcohol malt liquor that tastes like juice again in my life. At least this is one of those dreams where you're self aware and have control.

I zip open my bag, and find all kinds of goodies. OKAY. Yup. Let’s just hope this dream doesn’t have Grimgore Ironhide making love with Rita Repulsa from Power Rangers. Not the new young small town chick one, but the old school Japanese one. I don’t think I can handle seeing them getting it in a 4th time. Oh shit! I hope this isn’t a dream where they finally have that baby. Gorita Repulskin.

I can’t.




Inside the bag is a bottle of water, which I don’t even stop to think before bursting it open and chugging it down. I’m so damn thirsty. After I empty it in seconds, I snatch up another bottle. I can sip this one now as the water seems to cool me and “turn on” my body. I see a few ziploc bags of trail mix, that look dusted in Cheez-Toe cheese. That’s a bad ass idea, actually. Maybe I’ll try this when I wake up. Also inside is a map, and my cellphone.
I flip it on, but the GPS is dead. No internet. Only text and call. And all my numbers are gone. Now I seriously regret not actually KNOWING my own numbers, since I would just type them in one time, and push the name in the list if I wanted to call. Shit. I don’t even know my house's landline.

My dumb ass is paying for it now.

I open the map. It looks nice, neat, well done. A red dot with Yo Azz above it on a long road shows my location. Okay. Yup.

I stand up, hurl the bag behind my back, and pace up the dusty road walled by young forests.


After a good 10 minutes of walking and snacking, I notice a small suburb. I admit, the cheeze powder didn't taste like cheese. More like...powdered bread. But it did make me feel great, energized, refreshed. Vitamin powder? Maybe?
I notice the small suburb is more a cluster of suburban heaven, shaped like a square in the middle of the desert. There’s another one next to it. And another below it. It reminds me of the music video of "No One Believes Me" by Kid Cudi. Identical to one of those square divisions of lush suburb dead in the middle of the desert. And me, a jet black Sudanese guy, with my long, thin-braided, naturally red hair, and blue hoodie... I laugh to myself and start singing "No one believes me", with all this strange crap going on. Except instead of it being night and vampires, it's daylight and normal(?) people.

I walk into the suburbs to see a few people slowly and quietly open their doors and walk out into their driveways, staring at me. I see one or two guys, around my age. Jeez, they need to lay off the beer or chips, seriously. The rest look like women you'd find in a place like this. Sorority types, soccer moms, hipster hags. Some peek from behind their windows. There are normal driveways and garages, but not one car in sight. Bikes neither.

I hope I don’t get shot.

“Hello? How are you?” smiles a nervous-looking middle-aged looking lady. She looks like a blonde soccer mom, small upper body, huge and wide bottom. Mom jeans. A blonde daughter in the window peeks at us nervously.

“I think I’m lost. But this is probably a dream, so you know...”

Her light blue eyes twitch curiously. She smiles, but nervously jumps when I slowly stick my hand out for a handshake. I hope I don't get murdered out here...

“I’m Todd.” I smile. “Please don’t kill me...”
I didn’t mean to say that, but it blurbed out. I'm just...kinda scared, y'know? I mean...this suburb is kinda... I mean, I'm a guy in a hoodie, and I'm... Wait...this is a dream, right? Is this a dream? Get it together, Todd.

“Why would you thin...OH!! Don’t think that! You’re safe here. I’m Ginger Smithington. And...this is... our town….”

"Todd Piyenkheret. Nice to meet you."

She says “our town” with a hesitancy. As if she's not sure.

“Welcome!” she shakes my hand, her pearl necklace and bracelet jingle. All the doors begin to open as random people slowly trickle out.
“WHERE did you come from, Todd? WHAT did you see?”

“I...I’m from Atlantis. Soon, my two-headed sabertooth squirrel will arrive for me to ride.”

I’m REALLY hoping this dream materializes a two-headed sabertooth squirrel with a saddle and an orc woman on it.

A orc woman named Big Titty Lilian.

I don’t know.

...Because shut up.


Her pale fingers pinch my literally-black hand brutally.

“This isn’t a dream, Todd.” she lowers her eyes at me. “I am ABSOLUTELY serious. Now where did you come from.”

“Okay, okay… I woke up down there, on the side of the road. With my bag, and these clothes.”

“Did you fall asleep seeing lizard men or Grey aliens?”


“Uhh… all of us too. Everyone of us either woke up on the street or lawn in these suburbs, or saw aliens before we woke up out here.”

“Just… like me...”

“This ISN’T a dream. We all just… woke up with bags of stuff and a map and some food. We all woke up in these suburbs. About a week ago."

"Across the street are whole fields of crops and huge ponds of fish. We each just… picked a house and lived in it. Some of us have started tending the crops left near the subdivisions, since we don’t know what we’ll do for food. Since there are no more empty houses, you can… stay with me and my daughter, Kaelyn. Come into the air-conditioning and have something to drink. And I can introduce you to the neighborhood later. Okay?”

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Smithington.”

“Just Ginger.” she smiles sweetly, turning around and walking up the hill.

“MOM!” screams the blonde through the open door. Kaelyn, I take it.

Down the street of this suburb, a tawny headed woman with long hair and braids, and a brown apron over her white shirt and dark jeans, yells for everyone to hurry and turn on their televisions.

Ginger flies through the green lawn like a soccer queen. I run behind her.
Inside, the house is cool and comforting. Grey carpet, white walls, plush furniture, it looks like everything you’d expect of a nice middle class suburb house.

The young blonde, like a college junior, turns up the sound on a TV that looks like it belongs in 1990. The screen opens with the picture of a man with pale skin, blonde hair, dark blue eyes. He looks like a typical American comic book image of a hero. He wears a top hat, like a blonde Superman almost. He begins to speak, but something is…kind of... off about him. His eyes seem to be fake glass eyes. And his skin is too smooth to be real, as if hyper real synthetic skin from a sex doll. His lips move weird, as if he’s a robo-puppet from one of those 1990-something movies.

Okay, I get it. Do they REALLY think we're going to think this robot is another human? Wow. I feel like a bird having a plastic bird shoved in it's face. Like, come on, bruh.

“Like, whatever, UGH!” he opens with. He speaks with a disgusted emo voice.

“Okay, listen. All of you have been, like, chosennnn, because you’re all like, the least sucky of humans. Genetically. Behavior too. Healthy, and like good healthish. Ugh! Whatever.
So, like, this is what’s going on: You all’ve been inoculated from diseases. And then, your bodies have, like, been chaaanged and rearranged, for the betterment of your species. In the bottom drawers of your bedroom dressers are pamphlets to help you, like, understaannndd, it’s dumbed down for you fuckwads. This is a special place all of you losers have been placed in as a second chance for humanity. Because your society is fucktards and hateeeerrrrrrsssss. So, like, yeah. If you go into your basements and unlock the bottom keypad door with 111,111,1. Then it should open. There’s, like, books inside. Instruments too. There’s maps of infinite sources of water in the region too. Manage your resources, and like, get along and shit. Please, like, love and depend on one another 'n' shit. Okay, King President Like-UNGHHH out.”

The screen blips out and fizzes with no reception. The TV is hooked up to something of a VCR mixed with a laptop, where movies can be clicked on and watched. MPGs I think. Or is it mp4's?

“Why are they repeating this broadcast?” Ginger looks at her daughter, who sweeps her bleach-yellow bangs back. “I think this is for the newcomer, or newcomERS. I just got a bunch of texts about a few new people arrived too.”

“This is the 4th time they’ve shown this clip. But they never mentioned the basement thing before.”

“Maybe this is the last one?”

The two amble upstairs in the house, as I sit on the couch and twiddle my fingers. I hear them upstairs moving and talking from above. It gets eerily quiet. Ginger and Kaelyn come downstairs. One holds stacks of papers, seemingly like a treasure trove of museum pamphlets.

“Is everything okay?”

“Heh, not really Todd. Oh, uh, honey, this is Todd. Todd, this is my daughter Kaelyn.”
Kaelyn smiles at me, nodding her head, I open my hand and she limply shakes it.

“What’s, uh, going on?”

“Well… besides having been abducted by space men… we’ve all been dropped off somewhere in empty suburbs. The map here says we have a supply of crops and water and even fish. And I wonder, did they disintegrate the original people of these suburbs or...”

“No mom, they made all of this for us. Like when human beings make an environment for a zoo animal, they made a environment for humans. They gave us food supplies we have to manage. Maybe to enforce our ability to farm and forage, I guess? And… I guess we’re being watched, or just zoo entertainment.”

“Wow...” I sigh in horror. I pinch myself, hoping to wake up. I’m already wide awake. This isn't a dream. This is actually happening.

“It says that they intend to help humanity as a species, by taking those of us with the, uh, “dopest” genes, then using their medical skills to "make our shit straight gangsta az fuck", and then dropping us in a self-dependent community.”

“For how long?”

“ doesn’t say...”

“Well, how do we contact King President Like-UNGH?”

“I don’t know, but… there is a lot of details about… re-population.”

“Okay, what’s it say?”

“It has pictures, arrows and it's just… blunt, to say it nicely. They must really think we’re stupid. It, uh…. gives diagrams of... sex-ed type stuff...” Kaelyn blushes red as a balloon, due to the fellow in the room.

“And it says that they… switched things around, to improve on nature’s design. They “re-arranged” us to speed up evolution and “improve” us.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Well… mom…. You remember what we and the other ladies here were talking about a week ago?”

“Yes...tell him, honey.”

“They switched the guys around too, Todd. You all will LOOK normal, feel normal, but...uh...”

“Stop beating around the bush, Kaelyn! Just tell him.”

“The women have male parts and can’t get pregnant anymore. But the men on the other hand have uteruses and CAN.”

“WOOOOOW………..” I clap my hand on my forehead in disbelief. Damn. I feel sorry for those guys, man. That’s… kinda messed up, you know?

“All the altered will have a surgical mark on their right hand, like a X. Uh.... *ahem* It says... "The new organ arrangements will cause new and powerful urges and desires, all due to new organs and hormones." It says "Do not reject or refuse your new urges, and do not be ashamed of the new emotions that will come upon you."”

They both show me the top of their hands. Each with a tiny dark-pink scab mark like a +.
“Todd, let’s see your hand.”

“There’s nothing on muh….nooo...”

There it is. On my hand. A pale pecan-colored X. Healed surgical mark I never would’ve noticed unless I squinted and looked at it. As I think more about it, I did notice my belly button was unusually warm, and I did feel a little bit more timid and less courageous than usual. Felt barely noticeable, but still.

Kaelyn hands me a blue folded pamphlet with a kiddie drawn picture of a boy smiling on it. As if a 4 year old with a black crayon drew it. I open it to see artistic diagrams and cross-sections from what looks like a 5th grade biology book. There's something that looks like male hips. It looks normal, until it shows a uterus and a canal closed off by a muscle door. The diagram.
As my lips tremble with horror, I read the details of how it says there is a muscle sealed door near my prostate. And when fully aroused, the door to a canal that leads to my new cervix opens, and my colon area is totally sealed off. So… if I follow these arrows and descriptions, when aroused, my colon closes off my intestines and opens to this...implanted cervix. And being "mounted" should "feel like getting anal, but your prostate is more sensitive. Other than that, you shouldn't be able to tell the difference between anal before being changed, and after." Basically, getting topped should feel like common anal sex, except more sensitive prostate. Okay, I got it. I'VE NEVER HAD ANAL. Most I've had is shoving a 1.50 enema up there.




Shut UP.


Anyway, according to this... anyone topping me could..get me...preg… OKAY. HOLD ON...

“HOLD ON! …. Okay, wait a second. So, you’re saying, according to the "friendly" pictures HERE and HERE, every woman isolated here has a cock and balls, plus a vagina, but can’t get pregnant? And EVERY dude here, has no more sperm, has shrunken useless balls, but has a uterus and CAN get impregnated?!!”

They look awkward at each other, as if not liking how I see something they seem to accept. As "just the way things are."

“Yes.” answers Kaelyn, “But don’t freak out too much. Because if you’re pregnant, you will emit hormones that cause the woman or women near you to start lactating. So when the baby is born, THEY breastfeed. NOT you. But the lactation-causing pheromones start effecting the women around you the moment you’re pregnant.”

“That’s just lovely.”

“ It's not THAT bad, Todd. And don’t worry. All of the males' hips have been surgically split for ease, and they spliced in some monotreme genes in us, so we lay huge, soft eggs, which hatch in days. Well, the guys do. You guys do, I mean.... The impregged ones... Todd, I'm sorry.”

“This is some fu-...*ahem*, MESSED UP...stu-”

“Shit.” Ginger interrupts. “I know what you wanna say. Fucked up shit.”


“Look, Todd. We don't like this anymore than you do. But right now, we've all been thrown into a situation beyond our control. We need to stop and think, okay? We don't know if those things are watching us or not, if they plan to keep us here forever or not, and what can we do about these physical changes? It's so advanced, that it's like we were born like this. Right now, we all need to think rationally, and figure out what to do. They told us, the first of us dropped here, that the changes are irreversible anyway. So, this is permanent. Forever. And there's nothing we can do about it except live with it and make the best of lemons into sweet lemonade.”



"We got to go to the big house." Kaelyn is buried into texting her pink cellphone.

"The big house?" My red eyebrows arch in confusion on my charcoal colored face.


They showed me to a bedroom upstairs, which I lay down my bag and I guess where I'm to sleep.

We go down the street, among a group of people. All of them obviously dropped here too. They range from 20 upwards, I think, just from looking at them. Almost all female. A few guys. 2 of them seem to have hard blushing, as if too hot. Fever, maybe?

As we go down past the houses, we come up on a massive house at the end of the street. Like one of those big houses that serves as a committee center for a subdivison of suburb homes.

We enter to see a sort of "throne" made from smelted-together cell phones. Imagine the sword throne or "Iron Throne" from game of thrones. But made from cellphones instead of swords. In it sits a pretty sassy looking housewife. She's the typical, pale hamster-faced soccer mom/cheerleader mom type. Medium length blonde hair, dark roots, dark brown eyebrows, snooty grey-blue eyes, wide fat hips, pear-shaped body, huge chest, small waist and upper body. Mom jeans, shirt with a high school insignia on it. She smiles sweetly at everyone.

"This is Karyn. She's the boss so far." whispers Kaelyn; "She used to be my cheer coach in highschool years ago."

"Alrighty then. But why is she our "boss.""

"I don't know, she just started leading us in this subdivision, and she seems to naturally be the coach type and the bossiest so... we just follow her."

"What about the other subdivisions?"

"Each one has a chair made of cellphones. Each "phone" seemed to flicker on a .png or pic of a post from a disgraced or twitter burned enemy of hers. Like a enemy who was defeated on twitter or instagram through a twitter/forum "war". I guess the aliens think text and face book is our form of war, and cellphones are like our "swords" and "shields". So, they think in our society, whoever has won the most twitter and face book drama fights is the "queen", and gets to sit in those chairs. And whoever sits in those chairs is the "queen" of each subdivision."

"So, each subdivision is a "queendom" all it's own? Won by bullshit drama fights. Wow, that's just awesome."

"Yeah, I guess? It seems that way."

"Are there any kings?"

"No, sorry... Todd, listen. In the weeks before you got here, we've all intermingled and had meetings about our...rearranged conditions, and the pamphlets the aliens left us. So far, there's about 40 houses to a subdivision. Somewhere around 40 or so people to a subdivision. And... out of them all, the vast majority is only women. The most mature guy is about 40 something, and he seems extremely lax. He just doesn't care, shrugs his shoulders, and hopes this "experiment" of the greys works."

"I see."

The crowd kind of shuffles into the huge subdivision committee building. SHOULD be for a committee, but it seems a manor for our local "queen" now.

"SHHH!" people yell as the cheer mom shifts in her chair of roasted twitter victims' cellphones.

"Alright. Everybody, we've had some new members to OUR division of Beef Twerky Ville..."

"Beef. TWERKY. Ville?!" I whisper in Kaelyn's ear.

"SHHH! The Beef Twerky's was her cheer team. So, she named our division after her them!"

"You've GOT to be kidding. Our "ville" is named after her cheerleading team? What kinda petty cra-"


Karyn continues...

"...and I've been texted earlier today by the heads of the other subdivisions. And they each have 3 new people. We've had 4. That's 10 in total. The "zookeepers", what we nicknamed 'em, have sent us all a repeat of the video with King President Like-Ughhh. We don't know if they know that we know he's just a puppet. But it's the 4th time that video has interrupted every TV, but the first time they mentioned the basement vaults' code.
We've all decided, by text, that this must be the last message. Now, all the new people have to get pulled in to how we do things here. Everyone make sure the new people have a place to stay, are okay, and bring them to this manor tonight at 8. And I MEAN 8. See you all later."

She's snobby... backwards-ass cornfield neanderthal. She gets off her chair, and what looks like a cheer team of 20-30-somethings shoo everyone out.

As we walk out, I notice 2 or 3 other guys. Ginger rubs my back, as we walk out.

"Don't be nervous, Todd. Everything's going to be okay."
She rubs my back kind of... not aggressively, but... invasively(?), I wanna say. Too much feeling and rubbing and contact. I kind of try to nicely speed up to make distance between her touch and my back. But she seems to...nicely, but aggressively, close the gap and keep her open hand rubbing and massaging my back. It's going from nice to kind of... forceful. I turn around to look at the soccer mom, and she just smiles at me gently, while still making sure to keep my back in her hand. Her face is blushing pink.

We end up walking all the way back to the house, with her touching me in some way. I feel very weird. I notice she has a massive bulge down the leg of her jeans. But you can barely tell at all.


At 8 o' clock, by the clocks on the walls and the cell phones, the sky looks like it should be 6 o' clock pm. Maybe the sun sets late out here. Ginger stands with me and a bunch of others in the committee manor of Karyn Kelly, a cheer coach turned our "queen".

Karyn slides into her big chair that looks like a metallic skittles nightmare. Some of the phones are even lit up, showing twitter burns she must've sent before she got tossed into all of... this.

I see 2 other guys, and a 30's-something woman that looks like she fell out of some annoying chick-flick romantic comedy. She's beautiful, ivory skinned, BBW, red headed. Blushing red cheeks. Hypnotic green eyes. Rose-pink lips.

"You 4 are new here. I guess you guys got abducted too? Saw aliens? Right?" Karyn opens.

"Are we in Area 51?" blubbers the lady.

"I think we inside tha mothership." mutters the ginger guy.

"How do you know we're not on a terraformed planet, bruh?" says a long-haired skater type with dreadlocks. He looks Asian.

"EXCUSE ME." Karyn shuts us all up.

"SHHHH!!!!" Ginger hisses behind me. I didn't say ANYTHING tho!

"Well, I see all you people have the little x's on your hands. It means the Grey's got you and "rearranged" you, just like us."

"Zeta 2 Reticulians." outbursts the skater.

"I'M TALKING, Owen! Now, I'm going to explain how things work 'round here. There are 3 neighborhoods. Each one has a lady in charge of it. I am in charge of THIS suburb. And so, if there's anything going on or that you need, you come to me. Okay?"

She smiles that look of a secretary with sexual frustration and a god complex.

"Good. Our division has the newest people. I have been here for 2 weeks. And so have the other ladies in charge. Some of the ladies around have been here as long as us, and will be like your moms, okay? The longer you've been here, the more responsibility you run. And that's me and my friends. Now, I know you all have questions or are confused, so I'll explain: According to the zookeepers, and we found out is true, we all have had our crotches rearranged. Women have boy parts. Boys can get preggers. If you haven't seen the diagrams yet, you will when we hand some out. Now, some of you will be farming everyday, taking turns. Some of you will be taking care of the lake and fish everyday, taking turns. We have 4 huge buildings to the east that are empty, but nice and cozy and safe. One looks like a high school. Another looks like a empty tiny mall. Another seems to be a pretty advanced and tough jail. And the other looks like a.... activity center, slash church thingy. We're still working out what to do with all tha- put your hand DOWN, Owen!"

The skater guy drops his hand. The 3 of us newcomers look at him.

"I'll answer questions in a minute. Now, the most important things you all should know, is number one: we all work together. We all get along. We all follow the rules. You guys know the common sense things, no killing, stealing, yadda yadda. If you want to borrow something from someone, ask. And if they say "no", accept it and ask someone else. And if it still is a problem, come to ME. If anybody causes you a problem, come to ME. And the ladies you see wearing blue are PoliceGirls. They're the biggest and best ladies who help keep things nice."

They look like a bunch of either tall built football/soccer hooligan women, or big thighed housewives.

"Curfew is at 9:30. Nobody is to be outside their home. Because we want to keep everyone safe, and I need to know where you all are at all times. All of your cellphones have a GPS to mine, so don't even try to sneak around. My celly knows where all yours are! Nobody is to have any weapons of any kind, or you will be punished and put in jail. Punishment is public humiliation and all your crimes will be told to everyone. And last, but most importantly, sex.
Nobody is to be getting frisky and doing hanky panky as they see fit! None of us women know any of the men, so if you intend to do hanky panky, you must get married. And you have to get my permission to get married. Now... I'll let you all ask questions."

What a bitch.

"Yes, OWEN."

"They're not "Grey's", Mrs. Kelly."

"KARYN. Mizzzzz Karyn."

"Miss Karyn. They're not greys, they're Zeti 2 Reticulians. They're reptilians who wear grey skinned hazmat suits with huge black goggles and weapon tipped gloves that look like long fingers. Look at the sun, man. Any of you noticed there's no moon? Why's the sun setting at 8 an-"

"OWEN. You had a question?"

"Yeah... do we get to meet them? Like, are there animals or anything around here? If nobody can have weapons, how d-"

"ONE question at a time. No, we haven't met them. Not, like normal. Some have, before they abducted us. But there's no denying they're real. The only thing they've done so far in 2 weeks is drop off people, this is the 4th time. And they show us a introduction video every time they do. This is a special community of chosen people, but each of us have been changed a little. And no, we haven't seen any animals or monsters. Just normal pond fish we try to breed and normal crops. Next? Sally?"

The Rom-Com looking BBW speaks, her eyes are big, watery, and frightened. She runs her fingers through her red shoulder-length hair.
"Where are we? What are they going to do to us?"

"I...all the leaders and I, we're not sure where we are. Maybe in the desert in Egypt. Or somewhere. But, they've been keeping us supplied and comfortable. They seem focused on making sure we live like normal people, survive, and... form a community. I think they want us to become a new and better kind of humanity. Yes, Todd?"

"How do you know all our names? And... about the "rearrangement" thing? What does it do to you? What's gonna happen to us? Us guys, I mean?"

"I know all your names because I'm in charge here, so I know everything about everyone here. And...about the sex thing. I'm going to be blunt. The ladies here all have guy parts, a stem and berries. And, after 2 weeks, we know that they WORK. And the guys, well, from what we know from the 2 guys who have been here for 2 weeks, you all may feel different soon. Heat flashes, become emotional, your skin may soften, and your voices MAY become higher, I'm not sure on that though. But that's it. You guys stay men. After my own 2 weeks of experience, I can definitely say from firsthand experience that the ladies here may get very horny. Some may get forward, sometimes so much that they need to be reminded to calm down. Whatever they've put in us, the urge to make whoopie can get REALLY powerful. REALLY powerful. And we remind you, marriage first. You can and WILL get pregnant. There's already a preggers boy in the other division, so they weren't joking. And as fellows, your semen will be clear and watery."

"Will we-"

"Hahaha, Noooo! You WON'T grow breasts or turn into women."

"The pregnant guy, how far al-"

"A week. Duh."

"Umm..." asks the ginger guy. "Ms Karyn. How can the PoliceGirls protect us if someone has a weapon? How do we keep safe."

"We have special clubs and taze guns the zookeepers left us. If you really want to know about them, make us use them."
That was uncalled for. The guy is timid, shy and scared. Why is she flexing so damn hard? Cornfield neanderthal.

"What's the gender ratio?"

"On final count, there is about 4 to 5 women to every one man. But don't think you're going to be a player, Owen. Remember, things are the other way around here. You make whoopie behind my back, and you just may become a mommy. And no, there is no condoms here. "

"Do we lose our biological clocks?" frets the redhead BBW named Sally.

"From what the zookeepers told 2 Weekers... uh, "2-Weekers" are those of us dropped here first. From what we've been told, a woman never loses her chance to make a baby. Ever. And guys have double the amount of eggs that a normal woman has, so don't worry. But, we're not dogs and horses, you marry, not just breed. Male semen is sterile and clear. And the uterus of a woman here is sterile, shrunk, and only helps in boosting sperm and fertility production. So, sadly, if you want a baby, you have to... cum inside your husband."

Sally looks down at the huge lump in the crotch of her sweatpants. She must have been snatched while she was lounging around the house. Her hands stay up towards her shoulders as if afraid to touch it.

Her green eyes lock on me. Not lustfully. Just... as if staring. Her eyes lower to my bellybutton area and stay on it. Her groin swells ever so slightly. I feel a large lump in my throat. I don't want to be nobody's mom. That's just... too....NO. I don't want a girl topping me and knocking me up.

"Tomorrow, we'll all get started to normal life here. Owen and Todd will work in the gardens, Sally, you will help me. And Jim, you'll be helping the landscapers. Okay, everyone go to your homes, get some sleep, and let's be a good and positive community that the zookeepers want us to be!"

"Miss Karyn?"


"Zeta Reticulians. Not greys. And "Zookeepers" is kind of a..... grim term, isn't it?"