Happy Almost Halloween! I love this October tradition. I hope you do too. 🙂 This week’s story first appeared in The Grays anthology by JWK Fiction.

Warning: Contents May Disturb Some Readers



by: K.Z. Morano

She came home every morning, limping, reeking of sex and decay. She made coffee, sat across from me. We never talked about it. Even as gray alien semen dribbled down her thighs. Every night, our women stole from our beds, like moths mesmerized by the phallic tower and its glaring sex light. I tried to ignore the abomination housed in her contaminated womb. She carried it proudly… like she’s the virgin fucking Mary…

It’s been weeks since the Grays neutered the entire human species. One seemingly ordinary morning, I woke up to take a piss. Then my dick fell off. I screamed as I watched it flop inside the toilet like a frantic fish. I grabbed a towel in a desperate attempt to staunch the bleeding while plunging my other hand inside the john to retrieve my severed penis. I yelled out for help but Maxine was nowhere to be found. I tried calling 911 but the lines were busy. So I drove myself towards the hospital while applying pressure on my crotch and with my cock sitting inside a cooler, cocooned in plastic wrap. It took me a while to do this; I had to goddamn Google it first. The drive to the hospital was pandemonium. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one. By the time I arrived, I noticed that the bleeding had magically stopped.

It was worse than Black Friday… far worse. Men of all ages beating at the doors, crawling over each other, mewling like infants, clutching their fuck-rattles in their hands… There were kids too, pre-pubescent boys crying to their fathers who were just as helpless as them. But what had struck me more than the horrid spectacle was the astonishing absence of women. Where the hell is Maxine?, I wondered. There were no female nurses or doctors or wives accompanying the men and the children. In fact, there was hardly anyone there to assist us. Through the glass doors, I spied a young doctor. The front of his white coat was spattered with blood. He was sitting on a table, stitching back his own cock with spastic fingers. He did a sloppy job but it appeared to have worked. Soon, however, the clumsily reattached organ simply fell off like dried-up umbilical stump. I knew that we were all fucked.

I hurried back home determined to find some sort of remedy. I didn’t care if I had to sew, or staple, or superglue it back but by the time I reached my tool shed, my shorn penis had shrunk into a black, gangrenous thing that resembled a moldy prune. Despite the ice cubes and the extra precautions I had taken, the amputated organ had decomposed in an accelerated rate. I turned on the television, tuned in to the radio for any kind of news. Nothing. The entire time, I kept wondering: Where the fuck is Maxine?


The shocking number of male suicides that followed was not shocking at all. It seemed that the entire human race had been castrated. With each day, I sank deeper and deeper into my self-made abyss as I watched my testicles shrivel and bury themselves towards my crotch as if to invert into some sort of pseudo-cunt. But that was the least of our troubles.

Our wives, our daughters, our mothers had disappeared. We searched for them but it was all in vain. When they did come back, they were different. They looked more like zombified whores, with their shuffling gaits and vacuous stares and ropes of saliva dripping from their slackened jaws. They appeared battered and bruised, their bellies bloated with foul-smelling semen.

That day, the earth seemed to shake with the sickening slaughter of thousands of women. I drove around the neighborhood and saw the mutilated bodies of women adorning porches and hanging from trees. I saw Doug, that crazy white trash bastard, driving around in his truck, horns blaring, as he dragged the carcasses of his wife and two teenage daughters across the street. Their bodies left trails of blood and tattered flesh on the pavement. Some of the men formed councils where they offered up their wives and daughters and mothers to be burned or bludgeoned or beheaded. Executions were carried out on a daily basis but eventually stopped after the men realized that the women would never put up a fight. They faced their deaths like martyrs, silent and proud, sustained by an inner strength that none of us could fathom. It was the men who screamed.

Most of us took our wives back because what else were we to do. After all, throughout the entire invasion, most of us merely cowered in fear inside our own homes. As for my part, there was no hurt, no anger, no desire to achieve a false sense of manhood by beating the shit out my wife… Sure, I had questions but it was quickly replaced by the icy indifference that had become my only means to cope.

Pretty soon they were all pregnant and the world was teeming with expectant mothers from pubescent girls with their absurdly bulging bellies to grandmothers with their disturbingly gravid guts. More murders occurred. I guess sometimes, the shit doesn’t really sink in until you see your wife’s womb grow heavy with rapidly budding alien bastard jizz. Abortions were not an option. We soon discovered that killing the alien fetus meant killing its carrier as well. It was almost as if they shared the same lifeline. Maxine’s own protuberant womb seemed to taunt me but like most men, I sat, impotent, as my wife waddled about, absently caressing her gut’s growing gibbosity.

Amidst all this, something even scarier happened. The women started killing each other. The world was a madhouse filled with murderous mothers stabbing and punching and crashing baseball bats onto each other’s fat bellies. We tried to stop them, kept them away from each other but there’s only so much that we can do. Once, I peered out the window to witness the most terrifying thing. Two women were wrestling on the ground. They were both heavy with child. Their bodies were tangled around each other and it took me a while to notice that they both had their arms shoved deep inside each other’s’ skirts. They pulled, oh God they pulled… I vomited what little food I had that day. Through some malefic miracle, one of the women lived. She let out a scream of triumph that made the hackles rise. She screamed and screamed until someone took mercy and buried a bullet into her skull.

I did my best to keep Maxine safe. I kept her indoors during the day though there was no way that I could’ve prevented her from leaving during the night. It was safe at night. During that time, the women couldn’t care less about each other. At night, they seemed to want nothing else than to go to those towers.

As for me, I was too busy minding the horrifying changes in my own body and the arrival of my first period. The dimpled scars and the remaining scrotal tissue where my penis and testicles should have been had transformed into labia-like folds. I noticed, to my dismay, that blood had begun oozing out of the orifice so I stuffed a piece of absorbent cloth inside my briefs. I suffered from intense menstrual cramps. The pain was unbearable; there were no words to describe it. I tried to hold onto any residual sense of pride by refusing to sit on the toilet while taking a piss but eventually, I got tired of the piss that kept trickling down my legs. Finally, I also got tired of washing the pieces of cloth and succumbed to using Maxine’s tampons. I tried my best to ignore the fact that I had a cottony cock-like thing stuffed inside me.

The Grays have robbed us of our manhood in more ways than one. The Grays, that’s what we called them. Not that we’ve ever seen one but gray was the color of their sperm, that foul fluid that trickled down our wives’ and our mothers’ and our daughters’ legs every morning when they came home to us. They’ve set up bases in every city in the world, blinking towers mockingly shaped like giant phalluses. Their exact locations could never be traced; the elusive structures stood like mirage lighthouses across an infinite sea. The women were drawn to them like moths to a flame. A few men had tried to follow them, tried to stop them. They, too, have disappeared. A brave handful refused to give up the fight, thinking that the Grays would just hand them back their balls.

“You comin’ with me, boy?” Roy, my father-in-law, shouted at me as he went inside his pickup, carrying his shotgun.

I didn’t respond. My nipples were sore. I started to cry.

He scoffed. “Suit yerself. I’m gon’ get my fuckstick back. I ain’t done with it yet.”

Fool. Plenty of men have gone there… the world’s toughest soldiers. Bombers, fighter planes, attack aircrafts, all disappeared in the horizon as if swallowed by an invisible vortex. None of them came back. Only the women came back… and after they did, they kept returning to those blinking towers every single night, even as their wombs were already swollen with their bastard babies, even as their vaginas were still brimming with malodourous alien spunk.

We tried holding them back, to prevent them from going to the tower. The men chained their wives, locked up their daughters inside their rooms. They screamed as though they were possessed by demons, as if they were mad animals kept on a leash. I heard about Moira, the nice old woman from across the street whose delicious lemon meringue pies reminded me of Ma’s. Her husband had kept her inside a cage. She died trying to squeeze herself out of the iron bars. She didn’t stop until her skeleton caved in, until her brittle bones punctured her frail internal organs. Outside, I saw Pamela, our neighbor’s 12-year old girl bleeding on the ground. She was covered with blood, her tiny body sprinkled with shards of glass. She had hurled herself out of her bedroom window. She died right before my eyes while desperately crawling towards the penis tower that beckoned her with its candy light glinting like a bright jewel in the dark.

I ran to check on my wife. I had tied Maxine to her bed with handcuffs. I remembered that she had bought those handcuffs as a surprise for me on our 3rd wedding anniversary. It was one of our rare attempts to deviate from our usual vanilla lovemaking. It’s only been weeks since the invasion began but the memory felt like almost a lifetime ago. Why is this happening?, I asked myself as I wept. I thought that every fiber of my being had turned numb from all the horrors that I’d witnessed but when I saw my wife chewing at her own wrists to escape, to run off towards that flashing sex tower and to her Gray alien lovers, I felt something inside me break.

I kept her bound to the bed. When her time came, I pointed my rifle at the screaming hole between her thighs and waited for the bastard’s head to come out.


The next day, I set off towards the tower.

It was too late to bring my wife back but I had to do something. I drove towards the tower, towards the light that seemed to hum out into the black night. I drove until the rest of the world receded behind me. The closer I got, the more the light seemed to obscure my thoughts with its brightness. I had hardly realized that I was there until the sky above me opened and threatened to suck me whole.

Looking into the center of the vortex was like staring up into God’s asshole. I gaped in awe as I watched the constellations trundle above me. Then I felt filaments of light reach for me like thin ghostly arms and I screamed from the coldness of their touch and the inhuman cacophony which shattered my eardrums. When I came to my senses, I expected to see some sort of truculent tentacular terror with crocodilian teeth waiting to tear me to pieces. Instead, the scene that greeted me stabbed my eyes like a dozen knives.

I finally knew why none of the men had returned. They were there and they were all alive… amongst the women, amongst the aliens with their slender ethereal bodies and their featureless concave faces that were the color of muted silver. The Grays looked like giant ghost spoons. They were beautiful and benign, their forms slender and spectral, radiating a lurid light. I couldn’t help but feel a kind of grudging admiration.

The ship, the station, whatever it was, appeared cold and metallic but felt as though it consisted of matter that was strangely organic. The floors and the walls seemed to pulsate with life and it felt as though we were inside the belly of a giant beast. Humans were scattered about, all of them naked and appearing to be in varied states of transcendent pleasure. I was surrounded by writhing bodies of pregnant whores and soldiers steeped in semen. It was almost impossible to distinguish one from the other. Like mine, the men’s penises had telescoped within themselves and had transformed into pseudo-vaginas which they now offered wantonly to their Gray lovers.

I spotted my father-in-law. He looked to be about nine months pregnant and was sporting a grotesque snatch between his thighs and a pair of hairy tits that were heavy with milk. Roy’s vagina looked like a stepped-on meat sandwich. He was sitting on his own pussy puddle of post-coital fluid while fellating one of the spoon men’s fuck-filaments as though he was born to do it. A soft purr issued forth from his throat, the sound of an animal subdued. My stomach churned in disgust.

Soon, the Grays approached me and I felt myself being pushed facedown onto the floor that looked like metal but felt like dead flesh. They held me down with their luminous limbs which felt like steel talons. I couldn’t see what they were doing. They hovered above me, all the while making insectile rasping noises like the bodies of a thousand cockroaches hissing against each other. When they penetrated me, the initial pain was unbearable. It felt as though my pseudo-hymen had been punctured by a giant hypodermic. It burned through my insides like ice. One of their glowing appendages entered my mouth and I tasted putrefaction disguised underneath their nonthreatening radiant forms. For a brief and terrifying moment, I wondered what they truly looked like without the incandescent light that haloed their alien bodies. I felt the mammoth stinger pulse deep within my throat and deep inside my gut, robbing my body of heat. I was pretty sure that I had died sometime during the process.

A contact with a Gray blurs the boundaries between pleasure and pain. They touch you right through your skin, sinew, skeleton, and soul. They caress your thoughts and your memories and transport you all the way back to the dull haze inside your mother’s womb. I felt as though I was free to just… let go. Soon, I felt myself being injected with several ccs of alien seed. The rancid odor, the stench of ancient sperm, filled my nostrils. I looked around me and saw that the same thing was happening to everyone. From beside me, I could hear the dying breaths of a woman even older than Moira. She lay there, splay-legged and utterly spent, with a wide toothless grin slashed across her wrinkled face. I saw some more familiar faces lying there like doughy cream puffs, fat with stale sperm.

For the first time, I noticed that the rifle was still in my hand and that I had neither the desire nor the strength to use it. I noticed, too, the varied array of weapons that littered the floor, completely forgotten by their owners. None of them mattered. In fact, nothing mattered. Everyone was free to leave, to come and go as they pleased. But even as the sun crept wearily into the bruised sky, I stood there, reluctant to leave the source of a pleasure that I might never know again. It suddenly dawned upon me that perhaps Maxine’s resolve had been stronger than mine. Like many of the other men, I had barely walked a mile until I gave in to the powerful urge to turn back.


We would’ve been terrible parents. Maxine and I, we would’ve fucked it up. That’s why we’ve agreed not to procreate. We planned on growing old together, just the two of us, travelling, taking care of each other, acquiring new hobbies over the years to keep us occupied. The idea baffled our friends and family. Jen, Maxine’s best friend, was a mother of four. She said that giving birth was the most frightening, most painful, most exhausting thing that ever happened to her… and that it was also the most rewarding. Day after day, I watched my belly grow and suddenly, I remembered what fear felt like. One morning, I walked away from the tower. For the first time, I was able to go far. I tried it every day. I walked farther and farther until I was able to reach home. What’s left of it. But always, when evening came, I would head back, towards the tower and towards the light, like a firefly inevitably answering to a mating call.

The Grays took our babies. Though not all of them were allowed to live… The excess offspring were used for sustenance. So eventually, we did pick up our weapons. But we didn’t use them against the Grays; we used them against each other.

I gave birth to my first child. I felt my insides spasm and I screamed as the baby tore its way out of my paternal womb. I actually heard my twat tissue tear. It was like taking a big, constipated shit, except for the painful contractions that started in my abdomen and radiated all the way to my lower back. I panted and pushed for what felt like the longest hour of my life and then I shat a living thing, and a wave of indescribable relief washed over me. I reached for my baby, my reward, but she was torn from my grasp. I heard her body break into half. For a brief moment, the light that wreathed the Grays’ elegant spoon-like bodies diminished and I caught a glimpse of their true barbaric forms as they fed. Carapaces of black stalactites, eyes that was dark and old and cold like dead stars, and wide gaping shark maws that ground against my baby’s soft bones and tender semi-human flesh… I watched my baby turn from a living miracle to live meat to recycled nutrients reinvested into future reproduction.

Perhaps the Grays concluded that it was a failed experiment. Perhaps they saw some unpardonable weakness in our species. Perhaps they agreed that we weren’t enough and sought to explore their options in another planet.

When the Grays left, they took their light towers with them and for a moment, we were grateful for the darkness because then we wouldn’t have to look at each other.

Copyright: © 2015 K.Z. Morano


2 thoughts on “Throwback Tales: CONTAMINATED CONCEPTION

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