[ WP ] You are abducted by aliens . After some time aboard their ship , you manage to deduce that they 've abducted the wrong guy , and are desperately trying to keep their higher ups from finding out about their mistake .

First draft, quick phone type. Had fun. 
 
 My first clue was when they started applying some strange substance to my face to give me the appearance of a hearty makeshift beard. It was realistic enough, convincing even me that I had grown this lumberjack worthy look over a period of weeks, not minutes. In the beginning, I was too terrified to really notice my surroundings, or the tone of my captors. I was more focused on the stereotypical probing and experimental injections I would be receiving then if my captors were nervous or not. There was some probing, but very quickly it stopped, and the type of chatter that occurred in the corner afterward really should have been my first hint. That tone is apparently quite literally universal, but I was a little distressed to notice at the time. 
 
 I was left alone briefly and then, the beard was applied by one of the chattering forms. What was going on here? I didn ’ t say a word, but was beginning to suspect something wasn ’ t going as quite as they had planned. I saw my beard in some shiny metal near the table I laid upon and as quickly as it had been applied to my face, more chattering forms came into the room, surrounding me. One of them made angry sounding chatter as he looked at me, but my stylist hastily scurried to my side and began pulling on my beard, showing it ’ s authenticity. 
 
 I tried to think of a way to signal to the angry one. He seemed to be in charge. Maybe if he knew his guys were faking this, that I was not in fact who they thought I was, I would be let go. I pulled on the beard myself frantically, trying to pull it off. No luck. Nervous chatter from Stylist who quickly held my hands down. I regretted the move instantly as it seemed to reaffirm to Angry I was who I was supposed to be, and with a turn Angry was leaving, taking the rest of the room with him. 
 
 Stylist was quickly upon me again, lifting a thin sheet that had been covering me. More nervous chatter from the pair of captors who poked at my parts with their fingers. I knew instantly my body wasn ’ t right either, and would have to be altered. Panic set in. Stylist suddenly was gone from my side, and the second captor was now trying to strap me down. 
 I began to scream. I knew they were going to try and fix their mistake at all costs then. The length of my beard was shoved into my mouth, and it seemed to expand like foam. I was gagged. Stylist had returned now, with a rubbery fake looking phallus in his hand. What the fuck was going on here?? 
 
 * 
 
 The TV panned out on the surgery. Laughing chatter on the couch from a family. “ This sitcom has gotten so good, ” the chatter suggests.
