.

Gackt was trying to shove himself into a pair of leather pants when he saw the alien.

He stared at it. It was a tiny little thing, no more than a foot high, and bright green. Its huge black eyes gazed up at him from its semi-hidden spot behind a rack of 30,000-yen pants.

It was actually sort of cute, really.

Until it pulled out the enormous Death Ray Gun. (At least, Gackt assumed it was a Death Ray Gun. What other sort of gun would a green alien have, after all?)

“Okay, bitch,” said the alien in a tiny, cute voice, “you’re coming with me.”

Now, Gackt had seen his share of strange things in life. As a child, he’d seen ghosts wafting through the walls of his house. As a young man, he’d seen Mana. In a thong. He’d assumed nothing else in this world could shock him.

“Did you not fucking hear me?” The alien gestured with its disconcertingly large gun, which was actually several inches taller than itself. “Pull up your goddamn pants and march your ass downstairs. I got a schedule to keep.”

And right there, in the Little Village dressing room, Gackt fainted.

The alien blinked. “Shit, they don’t make rockstars like they used to, do they?”

.

.

.

Later, when Gackt awoke aboard the alien ship, he found himself strapped to a table, completely naked.

“’Bout time you woke up, princess!” sneered the cute green alien from before. There were other aliens around, he noticed, all of them in different adorable neon hues. They looked just like cute little plushies from a UFO-catcher—well, if you ignored the anal probes, anyway. Gackt couldn’t recall ever seeing a plushie carrying an anal probe before.

“What are you going to do to me?” Gackt asked, despite the pretty obvious visual clues he was getting.

“We’re gonna invite you to our fuckin’ tea party, what’s it look like, Sweet Cheeks?”

Gackt fought the urge to cry. Get ahold of yourself! This is no worse, after all, than being on tour with Malice Mizer. He shuddered just remembering Mana’s suggestion that they play “Doctor”.

“Why are you doing this?” Gackt demanded in his most forceful voice, glaring at the little alien in a way that had been known to make music show hosts cringe from fifty feet away. The alien ignored him, and in fact appeared to be wholly focused on oiling up one of the anal probes. “Hey, are you listening to me? I—Hey, is that Astroglide?”

The alien eyed him suspiciously. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m horribly allergic to the stuff. Gives me a rash like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Well, shit,” said the alien, throwing the lube impatiently to the floor.

“Sorry,” Gackt said, trying hard to sound like he was really apologetic.

The alien turned to one of his brethren, a bright pink creature. “Maury, what should we do? The fucker’s allergic.”

The pink one—Maury?—shrugged. “Dunno. Use somethin’ else?”

“Like what, pray tell?”

“I think we have some Miracle Whip left in the fridge…”

This resulted in an extended and rather heated discussion as to whether or not Miracle Whip was an acceptable substitute in a scientific experiment involving probing of the anus. The general consensus seemed to be that its tangy “zip” would interfere with the readings, and besides, didn’t they need it to make tuna salad tonight? It was finally decided that they’d simply have to make do without; after being in Malice Mizer, Gackt should be used to it, right?

The little green alien turned back to the captive. “Now, where was I—Oh, FUCK!”

Gackt had somehow managed to wriggle and twist himself free—the aliens apparently hadn’t accounted for the amazing bendability of his spine. He stood now over the ship’s control panel, hands poised threateningly, ready to send them all into oblivion with a few ignorantly-pressed buttons.

The aliens raised their Death Ray Guns.

“You feeling lucky….punk?” Greenie made sure to put extra emphasis on the last syllable.

“Do your worst,” snarled Gackt. “I’d rather die than be anally probed by you!”

A long moment passed as the two implacable sides faced each other. A tumbleweed rolled past, since standoffs of any kind simply require them for ambience, irregardless of setting. Nobody blinked.

Finally, Maury said, “Crap, boss, now what? These are just Dollar Bin squirt guns. We can’t actually, you know, zap him or anything.”

Gackt blinked and considered pressing buttons to send them into oblivion anyway. If GacktJob ever heard about this, he’d never live it down…

“I, uh,” said the green one. “Shit! Scotty, beam his ass down, now!”

Gackt felt a strange tingling, and then the interior of the ship seemed to melt away before his eyes.

When he could see again, he was standing in a strangely familiar room decorated all in shades of black and… black. This place… It’s as though I’ve been here before…

“Why, Gackt, what a… surprise,” said a strangely familiar voice. Gackt had a moment to wish he was back on the alien ship before Mana waltzed into view, wearing nothing but a gauzy black teddy with feather trim. “You’re just in time to join Juka, Kazuno, and I for a little game I like to call ‘Me Fucking You Silly’.” (Mana, it must be noted, was one to take sudden appearances of naked men in his living room well in-stride.)

Gackt whimpered and vowed never to leave his apartment again.

Not even for pants.

Not even if they were on sale.

THE END!