Flynn's feet bashed against the hard concrete as he ran through the streets -- what was a simple nightly run at twelve am, turned into a run for his life.

Everyone around him was running as well, panting heavily, some crying and some screaming in absolute fear, though he couldn't blame them, he himself was in tears too. It wasn't shocking to be. Yet he continued to run, running away from... well from some weird star. At least that's what they thought it was until it got closer to earth. Flynn could make out an irregular, rough-coated cylinder which approached in total silence. Its odd shape and texture was terrifying, as well as the fact that it was floating by on some invisible current.

That's when he could not out run it anymore, and a blinding light flashed his senses--was he dead? No, he didn't know or understand what he was.

Slowly regaining consciousness, Flynn stirred on a rough hay bed. Every inch of his body screamed in pain as he tried to piece together how he ended up here. I mean, he woke up butt naked, laying in a small cage in an odd living room home area that clearly was alien like; it was cold and his muscles felt stiff as if he had a very long nap. He glanced around and before he could process much of it, he saw... Someone or something enter the room and he froze in absolute terror. He was in shock for a few moments until a strange realization and emotion overcame him.

He became distraught, tears streaking down his cheeks, and his voice quivered as he spoke, "Oh god..." He sobbed, his distress palpable, "D-don't touch-" He sniffled, his voice laden with fear as he crawled to the corner of the cage like a small kitten.

All the scenarios he could think of included being subjected to unending menial labor, or perhaps kept as some crazy pleasure slave. He shuddered at the thought, skin crawling at the imagined sensation of hands, hands, hands, groping and prodding at him. He shook his head as if to physically dispel the thought; he even gagged, "I-I think I need to vomit-"