text: My take on *the* most popular HFY sci-fi trope. One shot. *Originally posted on HFY subreddit.* \~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~ Robert woke bleary-eyed in an unfamiliar place. His head hurt like hell and his body was sore all over, despite having hardly stirred. Where.... what? Light. Light from above, painfully white and stabbing his frontal lobes through his eyes. He shut them quickly as he could to spare himself the agony, and rolled onto his side away from the glare. The next sensation to impart itself on his groggy brain was of the texture of tiles. he must have been on the floor of a tiled room. After what was both a lifetime and only a few minutes, Robert forced himself to sit up and look around. His body protested every movement, it felt like he had been trampled half to death. &#x200B; All that changed as he took in the room. His heart jumped in his chest and adrenaline surged, washing away some of the fog from his deep sleep. The room was both familiar and strange. White tiled floor and walls. Large white metal boxes with buttons and dials. A cabinet high up with no obvious way to access it. Some sort of bin in the corner. Single light source from above. Heavily tinted observation window. A closed door. *He had been taken!* Robert deep down knew aliens were real, but why him? Why now? *Don't-panic-don't-panic-don't-panic-damn!* Ok. Deep breaths. He thought back to the last thing he could remember. maybe that would help? But his abused brain would not cooperate, and he drew a blank. Maybe not yet calm enough. Uhh, friends! After work drinks with friends! The sense of elation died before it could be fully realised, if he had a few drinks then his guard would have been down. Easy pickings for an extra-terrestrial kidnapper. As his predicament settled on his mind, Robert at least had the optimism to appreciate he wasn't shackled in any way - after a quick check to be sure of course. &#x200B; Robert had planned for this kind of situation in his mind, but it couldn't compare to the real thing. Who had taken him? What did they want? It was a lot more terrifying than he could have ever imagined. After some more immeasurable time sitting on the floor, he decided to explore his cage a little. Maybe prepare himself for his first contact, get some insight into his captors' minds. But he realised his mistake as he stood - his stomach rebelled instantly, spraying hot chunks of vomit all over the white metal box controls. He must still be drugged from when he was taken. So much for hoping for a dignified first meeting. Robert managed to straightened up, and the next pressing matter made itself known to him. He had to pee, rather badly actually. How had he not noticed this before? Right, he had been drugged. Unfortunately nothing in the room so much as resembled a toilet. Maybe the white box he had just puked all over was one of some sort, but his still queasy stomach wouldn't dare let him check. His eyes found a drain in the corner of the room and his answerer became clear. Right, I'm now a prisoner. No dignity allowed. &#x200B; As his body relaxed into the relief of release, Roberts eyes automatically drifted to the nearest object, the bin in the corner. It was full of rags of cloth. Did... had his unknown captors' provided him with bedding materials? Was he expected to build a nest? Did they even know he was a sapient? Business completed, he decided to investigate further. It was cloth, but not rags like he had first thought, but clothes. *Actual* human clothes. There was no rhyme or reason to what they had provided him with and most of it seemed dirty, but he was in no position to complain. Any pieces of home he was allowed was a welcome distraction from his predicament. He knew in the rational part of his mind that any links to home would become important to him as time went by. Another idea occurred to Robert. His own clothes were crumpled and splattered with his vomit, but that wasn't important as he dove his hands into every pocket he had, looking for keys, wallet, phone - anything. No such luck of course, that would have been too convenient. Still, it was worth a try. &#x200B; The wall cabinet he left alone, it was probably quite sturdy for all he knew but without any visible support struts he didn't dare try and pry it open. The observation window on the other hand was not what he had first assumed. It wasn't tinted as he thought, but actually clear with some sort of heavy duty shutter closed on the other side. A window perhaps? But that made no sense, why would they give him a room with a view if he was their prisoner? Was he on a spaceship? Would there be stars on the other side? After a moments silence, waiting, listening, there was no sign that he was in a moving vehicle of any description. Unless that vehicle was a spaceship, of which case he could only guess at how it would sound. Suddenly, Robert felt more tired than he had ever felt before. Too many questions, too few answers. &#x200B; That just left the door. To his immense surprise, it protested loudly but willingly opened. If that was his mysterious captors idea of security it was laughable. But the strange ultra-realistic facsimile of a human house that greeted him was not the cold sterile hallway he had been expecting. It looked like an actual living room, even if the finer details were wrong. It had stuff everywhere, as though trying to cram everything earth related into the same space. And a pantry. There was containers of every description occupying ever available horizontal surface. As Robert took in the incredulous scene, he spotted the one thing in the gloom that didn't belong. An alien. Humanoid, sparse fine white feathers hanging unkemptly in all directions from its scrawny body, as it lay face down on one of the lounges. Dead, if the sickly sweet smell was anything to go by, probably for a few days or so. Roberts heart was pounding against his ribcage with full force, his mind jumbled trying to process what he was seeing. *An actual alien!* &#x200B; He had to check. It was obviously dead, but he *needed* to know. To be right after all these years of being called a loony for his beliefs. A few cautious steps and a single finger prod. It felt real alright, its some of its decaying flesh sticking to his finger in the most horrid sensation imaginable. Morbidly curious, he held his hand up to what little light was coming over his shoulder. It was yellowish and sweet smelling, having rotted to a sticky, near liquid state. He was about to prod it again harder when it *stirred,* causing Robert jo jump back in alarm! A pair of unfocused, but clearly predatory eyes appeared pointed in his direction. A barely coherent voice broke the quiet. "Awesome party Rob. Why am I covered in honey and feathers? And what were you doing in the laundry?" \~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~ I'm a regular author on the HFY subreddit.