Her grandmother had always said that wearing a smile, when sad, usually made one feel happier. Beth discovered a horrible parallel. By faking an orgasmic response to him, her body eventually rewarded her with an actual one. The first time came as a surprise, and the subsequent ones revolted her. Her body betrayed her each time, becoming wet and ready whenever he touched her. She now had two enemies to resist. As before, she considered this development the worst that could happen. As before, her captor proved her mistaken.

    He set up his snare carefully, though he seemed more nervous than usual. A deserted alley would be the staging point. The quarry was a gang of toughs on their home turf. The bait was Beth.

    The hunter explained it slowly and waited for her to nod.

    Before setting her aground from the tiny lander, which was carried in a compartment under the windowed bay, he drew her near and nuzzled her ear.

    “Forget whatever little plans you have hatched, sweetness. I tracked you down once and can find you again.” He patted her rump and pinched her nipples; teasing them to hard peaks under the shirt he'd given her. The Yeter warned, “If you change my plans, you will suffer for it.”

    Clothes. How welcome and strange they felt against her skin. The short skirt and crop top fit snugly. The sandals were too loose. Where had he acquired these? Beth wondered how long it had been since she'd been taken. Had anyone looked for her? What explanation had been given to her friends and family?

    The air, redolent with hydrocarbons, assailed her nostrils. A humid heat brought a sheen of sweat to her skin. The sun glimmered on the horizon, and set as she watched the sky, red and gilt, until the night swallowed the day. She had no idea to what southern city these buildings and streets belonged.

    It didn't matter. In cities, there were police, and police had guns and weapons. Her paltry plan went no further than seeking sanctuary in such a place — forever if needs be. Beth strolled easily down the litter-strewn street. Her eyes, belying the casual walk, frantically searched for a patrol car, or sub-station.

    At the corner, she'd been told to continue on, and then turn at the parking lot and turn again at the next street, which would lead her back to the side road where the hunter awaited. Halfway down the block, lights and music flowed from one of the run-down buildings. Even a tavern or restaurant would serve her purpose. In a crowd, she'd be safe to call for help. He'd never expose himself to a large number of witnesses.

    Her steps quickened with the hope pulling her. The music and light emanated from a brownstone, once a home now a derelict shell. A young boy sat on the stone banister and watched her hesitate.

    “Whassup, girl?” he called.

    Beth glanced up the street. The street ahead became an open area, filled with ragged macadam and burnt cars. All that laid behind was the hunter, waiting for his game.

    “Do you have a phone? I'm in trouble and need to call my parents. They'll give you money when they come for me.” Beth prayed her globetrotting father was at home for once, or her club and cause mother had charged her cell phone.

    The boy eyed her up and down, and then shrugged. “Sure. C'mon.”

    The stoop had large chunks of concrete missing and the door opened with a groan. “Up there.”

    The interior was a mishmash of bare brick and smashed drywall. Graffiti adorned walls where paintings had once hung. The stairs shuddered slightly as they climbed, but the boy seemed unconcerned so Beth followed.

    “Here go.” The boy smiled and pushed open a stained and warped door. Beth paused in the doorway but a hard hand to her back flung her forward.

    “Live meat,” the boy's voice said. Beth clambered to her knees. Immediately a foot to her ribs threw her over. A half-dozen or so angry hard faces looked back, mostly men but two were girls. Darkly malevolent eyes in rigid faces whipped her with their hatred. The extensive bruises lighted no candles of mercy for the green-eyed blonde lying dazed on the curling linoleum. Beth felt alien under the intense scrutiny.

    “She wants the phone.”

    One of the women straddled her and laced strong fingers in the sleek hair. “Who you gonna call, bitch? Cops?” The girl bounced as she spoke, forcing little gasps from Beth's lungs.

    “Listen, please. There's… There's a man hunting for me. He's dangerous. I'm only trying to escape him, not hurt you.” The desperation in her voice did little to convince them.

    The other girl strutted around and draped her latte-colored arms around one of the older boys. She kneaded the long firm arm muscles beneath his tawny skin as he pretended indifference. “We're bad, girlfriend. We're dangerous, too. Nobody can do us better.”

    One young man, standing back, sauntered closer. “Hunted? She don't look that special to me.”

    The first girl laughed. “You ain't had white ass, Rik. Whyn't you just check that out.”

    'Rik' dragged her by her arm toward a tattered sofa, throwing her face down into the musty cushions. The face had changed but the conditioning held. Beth struggled, and then submitted before finally writhing beneath her newest captor. They all took a turn with this strange girl who didn't scream but accepted rape with a reluctant enjoyment. The girls teased the youngest boy about his virginity until he, too, bared his manhood and used her quickly.

    The gang-girls pinched and prodded and encouraged. Beth realized their arousal was as great as their male counterparts. She could smell the hot girl-smell through the tight black pants, could hear it in their breathy jibes.

    One man, which one she never knew, had a taste for something new. Using the semen of those who preceded him, he oiled the head of his cock and pressed against her anus.

    Beth kicked and wrenched, and resisted the fresh violation. Strong hands recaptured her arms and legs, draping her across the back of the sofa.

    Hands parted her thighs and the thickheaded cock returned to jut against her sensitive nub. The man let her wriggle onto his erection and pumped hard a few times. Beth moaned as he retreated enough to prod her anus with the now-slippery tool. With a violent heave, his cock penetrated and withdrew, and again. The next stroke forced a soft groan from her throat. The next thrust she arched to meet.

    The girls chanted, “She likes it. Give her more.”

    In horror, she heard herself repeat their words, begging for more. Ignoring their giggles, Beth reveled in the more of it, grinding to take his stroke deeper.

    Her inner self blushed as the man described the tightness of her ass in graphic detail for his comrades. The hidden part cringed at each wave of ecstasy her rebellious body experienced. Her occult mind listened and recorded each murmur of pleasure or gasp of satisfaction her traitorous lips uttered.

    She forgot the owner and the place. She forgot the situation and her fear. The cock became her temple and she worshipped the tremendous length and power in each thrust. The Yeter made her feel the same way, every nerve ending alive and vital. He overloaded her senses until she lost awareness of any rational thought.

    She climaxed and loathed that she had learned to enjoy even this. The man's hands gripped her hips to gain better leverage to pummel harder. The spasms of his body reaching orgasm set off another for her. He rocked against her, dwindling rapidly in his satisfaction. He withdrew and wiped his spent member on her rump. The hands released her, and she slid from the broken-legged sofa to the floor.

    Beth curled in on herself. She felt the juices ebbing from between her thighs. She hated that she missed the familiar feel of the hunter's body covering hers. Hated that the wet tongues tasting hers had been flavored of cheap beer and harsh tobacco and not of the pungent wine the Yeter drank. Hated that his warm sleek oddly scented skin was not the skin on the hands fondling her breasts, restraining her wrists, pinching her thighs.

    With no thought for her survival, Beth hovered at the edge of a half-sleep — exhausted as much by her disillusionment in her fellow humans as in her exertions at their hands.

    The gang argued over her fate. One trio wanted to keep her for more games, another proposed selling her to a pimp named Lotto. The girls — perhaps unhappy with the compliant competition — pouted, and suggested butchering the bitch. The boy said something about a ransom and the others laughed their disbelief at the possibility that someone cared enough to ante up for her return.

    The cool nip of a metal edge against her neck registered only as a sensation, not as anything to fear. She smelled a familiar odor and chuckled deep in her throat. A hand in her hair lifted her face.

    “What you laughing at, girl?” the boy — though enough of a man to have taken her — asked.

    “He's here. I told you he'd come,” Beth murmured dreamily. Her punishment was over and the Yeter's game had begun.

    The hiss of a plasma single-shot was expected. A thud reverberated as the bigger girl, thrown by camouflaged hands, struck the wall and fell heavily to the floor. Beth could see startled confusion in the dying eyes.

    One by one the gang-bangers were dispatched, though they fought hard against the camouflaged invader. Those with guns perished in the unholy purple-black glow, the others with bone crushing blows. Hiding beneath the table, looking for the source of danger, holding a gun too big for her dainty trembling hands, the second girl whispered, “Holy Mary, Mother of God, Pray…” before the ungodly ray inverted her into a shuddering pile of bloody meat.

    The Yeter smiled down at Beth. “Having fun, little one?” The mottling of his chameleon skin had settled back into the brown and beige. “You should have done as I ordered.”

    Warm blood pooled and spread beneath her. What remained of her clothing absorbed the liquid. The hunter grabbed the sticky mass that the gore had made of her hair, and twisted. She followed unresisting. He flung her across one of the blown open carcasses, and took her with no preamble, roaring in his exultance, laughing as he rubbed the congealing gobs of blood into her breasts and across her belly. Dead eyes watched from every angle.

    The tiny seed of herself, buried and hidden, tightened further.