This story is a companion piece to my earlier story "1969: Ghost Before the Dawn" and a companion piece to any stories in the "1969" series, and related series.
You don't have to read those to understand this story. They are all meant to make sense individually, as well as together.
It was a warm and sun-shining day in late July of 1969. The world celebrated men landing on the moon. Americans, especially, celebrated not just the moon landing, but beating the Soviets to it.
Amidst the excitement, the young Ginger (who was, in fact, not ginger at all, but a black-haired, copper-skinned woman) had only just earlier that month celebrated her birthday, twenty-two, and with that, an apparently shitty date.
But now she could relax and smoke in her friend's luxurious apartment, dawning a fresh violet robe of cotton, The Beatles on the record player as she and her friends munched on blueberry muffins and waited for the LSD to kick in.
She took another drag from a cigarette "...and that dick decided I was an alien. Literally, an alien!"
"Sure, he's an ass, but it is funny timing," said the tan, dark-haired Kitten, "I mean, Roswell, 1947? Even in July! Your birthday just screams 'conspiracize me.'"
"Believe me, I know. But this guy had some nerve. He was even acting like I was a threat to world peace or some shit. Like he gives a damn about 'world peace'. He practically jerks off to the goddamn war!"
"Oooh, careful commie!" Dorothy laughed.
Betty-Ann, of pinned caramel waves and light skin in flamingo pajamas, had stayed silent, chewing saltwater taffies and thumbing through a comic.
"Are you okay, Bet?" Kitten asked.
"Hmm? Yes. Yeah."
"No, no--Betty-Ann, I... I didn't mean to be insensitive like that." Ginger added.
"Oh, I wasn't really listening. Just checking out this comic and all."
"It's upside down."
"Oh!" Betty-Ann turned the comic rightside up. "Well, it's good to appreciate art from all the angles."
"Honey..." Dorothy said. "It's okay to miss him. He was your fiancé. And we're your friends. We understand."
"No, you don't! You don't, okay?! I just--" Betty-Ann sighed, on the verge of tears. "I just don't want to talk about the stupid fucking war, okay? I just don't."
"Okay," Kitten said. "We can get back to the moon landing, right? You love that sort of stuff."
"Yeah, yeah. Space."
"Not just space!" Dorothy leaped up dramatically, pushed the escaped black curls from her bun out of her face, and narrowed her eyes. "Aliens," she whispered.
"Mmm," Betty-Ann sighed "I do love the idea of aliens. Who knows what they look like? Who knows how they... fuck."
The women giggled.
Ginger couldn't stop smiling. "You know," she laughed, "I.. I want to.. Fuck an alien!"
"Me too," Betty-Ann added.
"That's a given."
"Then why haven't I been given it?"
Dorothy choked on smoke and laughter. "Biiiitch... that's so--- Like, that's so hot and weird."
"You're weird!" Betty-Ann cackled. "You're fuckin---I mean, you always say about wanting to fuck a ghost."
"Yeah, you know, good point. But ghosts, you know... ghosts are people."
"Isn't that necrophilia?"
"Nooooo..." Dorothy coughed and laughed so hard she nearly pissed herself, "those are... like, that's like fucking corpses and shit."
"Well, Gin and I want to fuck aliens and you want to fuck dead people, so you're outvoted. Democracy!"
"What's that sound?" Kitten frantically eyed the room.
"What sound?" the caramel-haired woman responded.
"You asked a qu---"
At first, the room seemed filled only with silence, but it wasn't long before a faint humming grew in the distance, ever-closer to the women, but not quite there.
Then, it shot into the room in whimsied notes, sweet and almost saccharine, melting into The Beatles' music and kissing at the ears of all four women.
Dorothy slipped off her simple black sundress and stood in the nude.
"Woman, what are you--"
"Oh, hush, Kitten. Don't you see...?"
Betty-Ann gasped. "Christ!"
Small and wide grey creatures surrounded them, eyes huge and solidly black, they had no other discernible features upon their faces, or where their faces must've been.
"Woah," Ginger smiled. "Are you guys real, live aliens?"
The creatures only blinked.
"You guys are seeing this right?"
"Yeah, yes," Dorothy's wide-eyed matched Ginger's and she turned again to the small creatures. "Hello. Hi. I'm Dorothy. Who are you?"
"Maybe they don't speak English?" Dorothy questioned.
"Why would they speak Spanish?"
"Well, if they don't speak English--"
Grey appendages wrapped around Kitten's thigh.
"Oh, because I was definitely going to," she rolled her eyes.
The grey form slowly slid up her body, wrapping gently around her neck and onto her full breasts with a delicate suctioning.
Her silk robe seemed to evaporate as she let out soft moans.
The room tilted, colors shifted, and soon all four women were nude, the grey forms pressed against them.
Betty-Ann gently sucked on malleable grey flesh, her mouth filled with a strange euphoria and the vague taste of blueberry muffins.
Ginger's mouth joined and the two kissed between each other and the grey.
Kitten and Dorothy found themselves inside of the aliens, swaddled in some sort of warm gelatin that might've passed for organs on whatever distant planet.
The room got smaller and smaller. The four women and aliens pressed tightly together, swirling slowly in endless tranquil circles.
A delicate alien appendage danced around Betty-Ann's clit, down and back, and rested itself upon her small anus before slithering inside.
The walls pressed inward more still, but the women only giggled as they were firm against each other. A few small creatures fully dove into the women's asses, all pulsating at the feel of it.
Dorothy moaned as another creature flowed through her sex and seemed somehow to come out of Ginger's in a now-shapeless void.
The four were one, the aliens another, and so the two altogether drifted somehow, their bodies smaller and smaller till they felt microscopic.
The music swayed over the singular woman, licking tongues against her breasts, sending kissing on her backs and down her abdomens. The alien waltzed around her legs and through her body.
She laughed at the tickles upon her feet and the noiseless grey lusted further upon her, feeling her everywhere with warmth and blueberry scents.
Something resembling slugs cascaded up her body and into her mouth, tasting even more of blueberry muffins.
Oh, how good it felt. How warm it all was. How soft.
Ginger's eyes fluttered open, apparently the first to do so as her friends were all upon the floor.
She picked up another blueberry muffin and sauntered toward the fridge for some milk.
Five hours? Hmm.
Ginger waited patiently for her friends to come to, she herself was still a bit dazed, but mostly just relaxed and relatively aware. A few hours passed and the other three had joined her for more muffins.
"That was fuckin' righteous," Betty-Ann laughed, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Yeah," Kitten added.
The women continued chatting and laughing until Ginger laughed so hard she choked a little on her muffin.
Ginger hacked up a small piece of a muffin from deep within her throat and onto a napkin, and a small slug came along with it.
She stared at it for a moment.
"You okay, Ginge?" Betty-Ann asked.
"Hmm? Yeah. Of course."
It must've still been the LSD. Surely.
Ginger simply threw it away and continued with the other blueberry muffins.