Metallic throbbing like some kind of far futuristic tribal rite in an impossibly remote galactic fastness, but who really knew? They could have been still orbiting Earth. The pulsing sound, heard as much in his sinews and bones as by his ears, suddenly both deepened and increased in tempo, running jabbing fingers of invisible vibration along tensed muscles, prickling the nape of his neck and the fine hairs at his crotch, teasing goose bumps on his jumping ball sack. The tall young stud walked, naked as the day he was born, across the slick alloyed expanse of the floor, deep tan of recent days spent working outdoors on the farm and skinny dipping with Ellen down by the lake on weekends glowing golden in the bright light. I’m not following the sound…I’m not!

Confused, he had clawed his way to terrified consciousness with vague memories of an unearthly light seen in the sky and Bobby’s scream echoing from somewhere far away…and found himself alone on the ship, stripped down to his skin. Yeah, he had known it was a ship…just knew somehow. Steve Cole had seen enough movies in his time and even read a book or two and now…please, it can’t be…why did they take my clothes?? Well, he had to face the impossible facts. The macho farm boy was scared and wanted to hide, but knowing what he did that seemed kind of ridiculous and so he walked, pretending to aimlessness but really following the sound.

The epicenter yawned cavernous before him; a spacious metal chamber of carved shapes bathed in an unnatural pearly glow, and the pulsing noise like sinister musical pistons seemed to come from everywhere. As he crossed the threshold, Steve blushed deeply thinking for some crazy reason about how Ellen looked down by the lake with the cool water running all over the perfect curves of her body, sprinkled like glittering diamonds across the curly down between her thighs. It just didn’t seem right and he tried to shake loose of the image, but the throb- rising now, it seemed, from directly beneath him- pulled the image backwards, sending sensuous spikes up through the bare soles of his feet, along muscular calves and thighs to the hairy gap between his legs, twisting a velvet screwdriver against his prostate, which felt as hard as a walnut and about to burst. Steve shivered and shut his eyes, trying to block it all out but the X-rated film played itself out on the red backdrop of sightlessness- hands (Who’s hands?! Ellen’s? ) running over the taut muscles of his body, caressing his chest and abs, clawing playfully rough along the muscled ridges of his back, pulling at the damp hair in probed pits…and along the thick shaft of his stiffening rod. Fark!! Stop it! He shook his handsome head of crew cut sandy hair and stumbled further into the chamber.

‘Bobby!?’  His mind registered the sight of the two other naked men, long muscular bodies gleaming in the light, but shocked recognition pulled Steve’s gaze to the handsome buck kneeling on the metal floor…BOBBY!!!? Best friends for the longest time, Steve had seen his buddy naked dozens of times but never with a stiff hard-on drooling a slick spool of precum like a five year old with a runny nose. Bobby grimaced and looked vaguely ashamed as he turned his head to the side then groaned as a shudder wracked his lean body, lightly furred chest heaving in an involuntary spasm. Arcing backward, his sky blue eyes rolled up in their sockets even as a geyser of hot juice shot from the head of his penis…and Steve knew a sense of déjà vu as his friend bellowed a strange mixture of ecstasy and searing pain similar to the last sound, heard under a starry sky back on Earth, before waking up in this hideous place.

Steve realized by now that he had been drawn inexorably into a trap; to the epicenter of strange torment, led (might as well admit it) like a young bull to slaughter by the throbbing sound. He obeyed an unspoken command and positioned himself in the center of the vast room, head bowed in unwilling submission, a virgin for all practical purposes positioned for the ultimate violation. Never in his short twenty two year old life had the carefree young stud been so conscious of his body. Every plane of work hardened flesh sheathed in smooth, sun kissed skin, every contour of muscular ridge and valley singing its own desperate song and none as intensely as his tingling dick and packed, suddenly aching, balls. The tempo reached a crescendo, augmented by a light show as beams as sharp as razor blades shattered from hidden outlets, immobilizing him to stunned passivity. Battling against the unaccustomed humiliation, he gasped as invisible probes crept…and then thrust…an obtrusive delight; up the long shaft of his penis, past the inviolate portal of his asshole to the hot depths of his being. Steve shrieked his agony into the deafening vibration and, as he shot his load, the thought, rising somewhere in a tiny corner of his mind still nominally rational, rang ironically: Steven Spielberg didn’t know shit, but Steve Cole suddenly understood, more than he had ever desired, imagined, or thought possible, what was meant by a ‘close encounter’.