The Transfigured Pt. 01
Even as he ran his errand, he was struck by the sight of people milling around him, intent on taking care of their own tasks. All he and any of them had to do was look up and over toward the west, and they would see the spacecraft hovering motionless above the mountains.
The late afternoon sun made its silver surface gleam. The convex object, about two hundred feet across, had been there for almost a year. As if it were watching everyone in the small town below. But Adrian knew it was doing far more than watching.
Thousands of crafts just like that one had popped up all over the world, their locations seemingly chosen at random. The town where Adrian lived was geographically isolated, over an hour from an interstate. Its population had dwindled in recent decades, and no one could guess why visitors from outer space would be at all interested in the area.
Some of the other objects had settled over large cities. Their simultaneous appearance evoked different reactions among humanity. Multitudes of people panicked, of course, fearing the end of the world. Hysteria spread far and wide, and when one country attempted to launch a weapon toward one of the objects, some kind of force field surrounding the craft repelled it, leaving the object untouched.
Attempts to communicate with any occupants that might be aboard the spacecrafts were useless, as silence was the only reply.
Eventually, humans grew resigned to the presence of these mysterious invaders, knowing they couldn't be driven away. The visitors' refusal to convey a reason for their arrival was almost more maddening than a full-scale attack.
Yet humans were nothing if not ostrich-like, burying their heads in the sand as they adapted to a new reality. Now, in this little town nestled in the mountains, people barely gave the hovering object a second glance. The ones prone to panic had fled or even resorted to suicide. Those who remained did their best to pretend that everything would turn out okay, that these objects would one day vanish as quickly as they had appeared, and life would somehow return to normal.
Adrian knew he had no right to judge these people, even as they averted their eyes when they saw him approach. Some of them had been members of his congregation in what felt like another life. Now they only greeted him with silent pity, or worse, disgust. Still, he had to admire their unwavering faith, while he'd so quickly lost his own.
Reading and preaching the scriptures had done nothing to prepare him for the arrival of these... things. If humans were made in God's image, then what could be said about the beings controlling the objects laying siege to the planet? Their capabilities were astonishing: when the spacecrafts first appeared, cutting through the sky at mind-boggling speeds, they were clearly able to defy gravity, along with every other natural law. Now they remained motionless, powered by some unfathomable energy source. No nuts and bolts were visible on those exteriors, not even a seam. Just smooth, indestructible material.
Far more advanced than humans, these things may as well have been God materialized.
When Adrian dared to voice these thoughts, the congregation had turned on him, calling him a backslider and a fraud. He hadn't tried to convince them otherwise, for he no longer cared. His entire world had been upended, and even as his wife packed a suitcase, telling him through her tears that she was leaving with her family and heading deeper into the mountains, Adrian simply let her go, for he was certain there was no place on the planet that could provide safe shelter. The last he heard, his wife was part of some kind of commune, living off the grid.
Which was probably a good thing, considering the rolling blackouts that occurred with more and more frequency.
All this occurred before Adrian discovered that the operators of the thousands of spacecrafts above weren't content merely to observe Earth's inhabitants. No, he learned, quite painfully, that they had other motives for being here.
Of course by then, his credibility was shot. People who once respected him now called him a crazy drunk. No one would believe him if he revealed what he knew.
Adrian had almost reached the liquor store when he saw the young woman heading his way. Though she couldn't have been more than twenty-five, her stooped shoulders and drawn face, along with her perpetual frown, made her look older. He had twenty years on her, and he was all too aware of how broken down he now appeared.
Years ago, her parents had been members of his congregation, though she'd never attended the church he led. Adrian knew from talk he heard around town that like his wife, her parents had fled from the craft, but they'd chosen to move to a larger city in the hopes that more resources, and some kind of safety in numbers, would be available to them.
For some reason, Gwen, their unmarried daughter, chose to stay here, in the town where she grew up. Jobs were almost nonexistent around this place, so Adrian had no idea how she was getting by.
Her brown hair whipped around her face as the wind picked up strength. Her jacket was lightweight, not nearly enough to ward off the cold, and her fair cheeks were red.
Their eyes met, and to her credit, Gwen didn't recoil from Adrian in revulsion. Her expression didn't change at all; it was as if he were a stranger.
He gave her a nod, a gesture of one wounded soul recognizing another, and then he was content to let her pass by. But as she did, he caught a whiff of that scent which had now become so familiar to him. It was sweet, almost cloyingly so, making him remember the time he'd visited a relative's orchard many years before. He recalled the smell of apples that had fallen from the trees to litter the ground, beyond ripe but not yet rotten.
Without thinking, Adrian grabbed her arm, and he heard her gasp of surprise. Gwen looked up at him accusingly, her blue eyes flashing. "What the hell are you doing?" she said through her teeth, keeping her voice low.
Passersby slowed their steps but didn't stop to help her. Gwen had always been something of an outcast, just as Adrian was now.
He leaned closer, bringing his lips just inches from her ear. "They've visited you," he murmured.
Her eyes widened at his words, and she quickly yanked free of his grip. "I don't know what you're talking about!"
Yet she didn't hurry away from him. No, she stayed at his side, looking up at him with growing alarm.
Adrian gave her a pained smile. "You do, Gwen. You know exactly what I'm talking about." She started to shake her head, as if she could convince herself as well as him. "It seems like a dream at first," he went on, his gaze drifting to their surroundings. Still, he avoided looking up. "A very pleasant dream, one that leaves you shaking from a fierce orgasm..."
Gwen drew in a sharp breath, and he knew her shivering wasn't caused by the cold.
"You tell yourself that's all it is, an erotic dream," Adrian said quietly, making sure no one nearby could hear him. "You actually find yourself craving it, and you go to sleep earlier and earlier, desperate for that bliss."
Despite herself, Gwen closed her eyes. Adrian could have sworn he heard the faintest of moans escape her parted lips. Oh yes, she knew what he was talking about.
"And then, you begin to change. The transformation is slow at first, almost undetectable, before it becomes terrifying." His deep voice was calm and even, though he was shaking now, too.
Gwen gaped at him. "How do you know this about me? How can you tell?" she demanded, not even trying to disguise her fear.
"I can smell it on you," Adrian replied. "It's the same scent that clings to me." He tilted his head, regarding her. "Have they appeared to you yet?"
Gwen pulled her jacket tighter around her, setting her jaw in a grim line. "I can't talk about this," she said.
Adrian held up his hands. "I understand. But if you ever decide you do want to talk, I'm at the same place I've always been, so you know where to find me. I'm sure there must be many more of us, but you're the only other person I've encountered who's experienced this..."
Her expression grew distraught, and she actually cupped her hands over her ears as if to block out his words. "I have to go." She bolted down the sidewalk, seemingly afraid that he would pursue her.
Adrian let out a heavy sigh. Maybe he could have handled that better, he told himself. But he was shocked to come across someone who shared his nightmare, who would believe him when he described it, because she was living it, too. His eagerness to connect with her had made him clumsy in choosing his words. Of course she had run.
He hated himself for finding a measure of relief in knowing he wasn't the only one, for he was well aware of the torment that resulted from being chosen by these new visitors.
And why had he been chosen? Why had Gwen? Adrian had no idea. He figured he would never know if he couldn't learn more about her experience with the otherworldly beings.
He could only hope she would seek him out. Until then, he had his own ways of coping.
After glancing over his shoulder and finding that Gwen was out of sight, Adrian stepped into the liquor store, desperate to buy a bottle that would grant him oblivion, if only temporarily.
* * *
Gwen was still shaking when she entered the small corner market. She wanted nothing more than to escape to the safety of Helen's house, but she couldn't return emptyhanded.
Her movements were slow, dreamlike, as she filled a shopping cart with shelf-stable goods. She couldn't stop thinking about what Adrian had said, and every time she replayed his words in her mind, a jolt of horror surged through her.
She went through the motions of shopping for dry beans and rice, some instant coffee for Helen, and a loaf of bread. As Gwen moved through the store, she avoided the eyes of the people around her. If Adrian had been able to detect the change in her, maybe everyone else could as well.
After grabbing a half gallon of milk and a few other staples, she made a beeline for the cash register, keeping her head down. The cashier greeted her, and she mumbled a hello in return, desperate to get away.
Gwen noticed her hands were trembling when she counted out the money to pay for her groceries. As soon as she got her change and gathered up her bags, she rushed from the store.
Out on the sidewalk, she looked up and down the street, fearing she might see Adrian. She didn't think she could bear being subjected to his knowing gaze, his look of pity.
As she headed back to Helen's house, which was within easy walking distance, Gwen made the mistake of glancing upward. The sight of the silent, hovering craft made her flinch and pick up her pace until she was nearly running.
But of course she knew she couldn't hide from that thing. No one could, though plenty had tried.
Only when Gwen felt she was a safe distance from the spot where she'd encountered Adrian did she allow herself to think about him once more. How different he'd looked from just a few years before, when her parents briefly attended his church. Gwen had never accompanied them, finding no solace in religion, and her parents soon lost interest in churchgoing as well.
Adrian now had a beard, which was full and dark but threaded with gray strands. His eyes were dark as well, and they had a haunted look about them. He was much thinner; she'd noticed how his coat seemed to swallow his frame.
When Adrian had grabbed hold of her as she tried to pass by him, she could smell the booze on his breath, and beneath that, a strange sweet scent. Was it the same smell that he claimed he could detect on her?
She tried to tell herself he was drunk, or completely out of his mind, with his talk of visitations and strange smells. Yet how did he know of the dreams she had? How could he possibly know how much she'd longed for those dreams, at the beginning?
Gwen had finally stopped trembling by the time she stepped inside Helen's house, and when the elderly woman looked up at her from where she sat in a living room chair, Gwen forced a smile.
Helen's expression grew concerned. "Gwen, are you all right? You're terribly pale."
"Oh, I'm fine," she said, then hurried to the kitchen to put away the groceries.
Helen had been a neighbor of her parents. A kindhearted widow, she'd offered Gwen a place to stay when she had nowhere else to go, and in return, Gwen took care of all the chores around the house, and the shopping as well, for Helen was terrified of the craft lurking over the mountains, and she refused to go outside. The mere sight of the object made her shudder.
While Helen got by on a small pension, there wasn't a penny to spare, and Gwen was wracked with guilt every time the woman insisted they share a meal.
Gwen had only a few hundred dollars when she first came to live with Helen, and that money had quickly dwindled down to nothing, so she could no longer help pay for some of the groceries, or the electric and water bills. The world might be on the verge of apocalypse, Gwen thought with a bitter smile, but the bills kept coming.
Gwen's parents had never had much money, and they also never had a house of their own; they'd rented the one next to Helen's. Once her parents left town, Gwen couldn't afford the rent, especially when the shop where she'd worked for years went out of business, the owner packing up and leaving along with so many others.
As Gwen busied herself in the kitchen, Helen appeared in the doorway. The woman's silver hair was pulled back in a neat bun. "Oh, they had coffee in stock this time!" she said, clearly delighted.
"Yes, and fresh bread and milk, too," Gwen said.
The smaller stores often had trouble keeping a reliable stock of perishable groceries. Meat of any kind was prohibitively expensive, and after the last lengthy power outage, when Gwen had been forced to toss out spoiled food from the fridge, she tried to buy as many shelf-stable groceries as possible.
"How about good old peanut butter and jelly sandwiches tonight?" she suggested to Helen. "May as well enjoy the bread while it's fresh."
"Perfect," Helen responded, clapping her hands together as if they were planning a scrumptious feast.
The two of them had an early dinner, and while Gwen managed to keep her unease from resurfacing during their meal, she found that her appetite was almost nonexistent.
"Here, you have the rest of mine," Gwen told Helen, handing over half her sandwich.
Helen frowned. "Dear, that's not nearly enough for you to eat!"
"I'm not very hungry," Gwen said, giving Helen a halfhearted shrug. "I think I might lie down for a while."
"Of course," Helen said. "If you get hungry later, I'll be happy to fix you something, Gwen."
Though Helen was a wonderful cook, Gwen couldn't even think about eating at that moment. "I really appreciate that," she said before climbing to her feet.
She knew Helen would spend the evening in the living room, watching old shows on television while avoiding any current news. Gwen slipped down the short hallway to what she still considered to be Helen's guest bedroom, though Helen had told Gwen repeatedly that it was her room now.
Once she was alone with the door closed behind her, Gwen pressed a hand to her forehead. She felt like she was running a slight fever, but then again, she always felt that way lately. Day was fading fast outside the window, but Gwen didn't bother closing the curtains. Instead, she stripped down to her bra and panties, then climbed into bed.
As she lay in silence with only her thoughts for company, Gwen realized Adrian was right when he described the effect those erotic dreams had on her. When they had first begun, Gwen had longed for the nights. She'd wanted nothing more than to escape the reality of this new world and be overtaken by an indescribable bliss. It became like a drug for her. The orgasms accompanying those strange dreams were more powerful than any she had experienced while awake. She felt them deep in her core, and the spasms made her quiver and moan, her own voice rousing her from sleep.
The dreams themselves were surprisingly vague. She could recall little of them upon awakening, only the sense of being surrounded by shadowy figures, their hands passing over her naked body, probing and exploring.
Though she felt no fear during the dreams, when she came fully awake afterward, she often didn't know herself. It wasn't mere disorientation from a deep sleep. No, it was something far more sinister, like a force had taken up residence inside her. She felt its cold, pitiless presence, and she sensed it viewing the world through her eyes.
It was that residual sensation of being invaded, and the terror accompanying it, that made her begin dreading the dreams which had once brought her such ecstasy. Now she put off sleep for as long as possible, and in her darkest, most hopeless moments, she feared she was losing her mind.
But Adrian gave her hope that she wasn't. Though his words struck a deep chord of dread within her, she realized she also felt relief. Relief at not being utterly alone.
Without warning, Gwen was gripped by a sheer need as she thought of Adrian. Unable to stop herself, she moaned and slipped a hand between her legs. She felt her nipples harden beneath the fabric of her bra, and the crotch of her panties was already wet. Impatient, she worked at her swelling clit, her arousal making her tremble.
She thought of Adrian standing so close to her, breathing in her scent while she inhaled his. A rush of longing coursed through her, taking her by surprise, as she had never been attracted to the man in the past. She felt a wave of guilt at her excitement. Adrian was still married, after all, even if his wife had deserted him.
Gwen writhed in the bed, her skin hot. Keeping her voice low so Helen wouldn't overhear, she murmured, "Fuck me, Adrian. Give me every inch of your cock..."
The filthy words only made her wetter. Rolling her tender clit beneath her fingertips, Gwen whimpered. Her entire body was shaking, right on the verge of orgasm.
When she imagined Adrian between her legs, pumping away, slamming his body against hers as he thrust deep, his image in her mind was so vivid, so real, that she couldn't help but cry out. She could see his fierce stare, his jaw tightened as he pinned her wrists, determined to claim her, to come inside her.
So easily she orgasmed from the thought of him. As the spasms began seizing her, Gwen's muscles contracted, and her thighs clenched around her hand rubbing furiously at her clit.
Even after her climax had subsided, Gwen tossed and turned in the bed, still feeling unsatisfied. Deep within, she throbbed, aching to be filled in a way that her fingers couldn't manage.
Yet despite her restlessness, exhaustion creeped over her like a fog, and she couldn't fight the pull of sleep.
She came awake to the sound of her own loud cry, an orgasmic wail that filled the room as she shuddered and spasmed with yet another climax.
When the bedroom light came on, Gwen didn't open her eyes. She fought desperately to remain gripped by the bliss overtaking her. It was only when she felt a hand on her shoulder that she grew fully conscious.
Conscious, but not herself.
"Gwen, wake up! You're having a nightmare," the woman named Helen said. Gwen stared hard at her, unable to call forth any affection for this person who had been so kind to her.
Helen sat on the edge of the bed, smiling down at Gwen reassuringly. But when the woman reached to stroke her hair, Gwen bolted upright. Before she could stop herself, she shoved Helen away in a panic. "Don't touch me! I'll hurt you. Get away from me!" she shrieked.r"
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