** This work is a sexually explicit fiction intended for audiences 18 and over, or as determined by local ordinance(s). All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The material below contains scenes depicting BDSM/CBT practices, as well as sexual activities with imaginary sci-fi like alien creatures. The reader, aware of the nature of the work, assumes all risk and liability. This work is the property of its author and may be protected under U.S. and international copyright, and may not be reproduced, modified or reworked without the author's consent. All rights reserved. **


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An alien fantasy on Earth

By Robert Lust



Deadland Earth Shelter 01X2-OMICRON

Human Date: February 26th 2345 Time: 1330 hours

Subject Files: 00230 through 00242

Master: Ecu'maret Prime


I'm anxious for the report on today's acquisitions. Sub-master Nor'ahd Betax is about to bring it. I hope the news will be good.

Upon finding this planet, soon after we discovered and studied the first specimens of their species, we found out that this world was meant to be paradise for my species, the Unguli. Human females were discarded. But the males...We discovered that human males carry what within their seed the very basic nutrients which keep us alive: protheolytic enzymes, fructose and other elements. These are carried in great amounts in human males' seminal secretion. Their spermatozoa are rich in the nutrients that provide our only source of sustenance, and which at the same time enhance our own seminal secretion. We've also discovered that properly stimulated, human males can produce large quantities of seminal secretion.

So conquest began.

The process of taking this race has been slow, but fruitful. It's taken sixteen years. In this wasteland which was once known as California, we're coming to the end of the wiping process. Most males over thirty and all the females basically left the land as we settled. A pandemic, our agents informed through their news networks. Attacks males and females in their prime! Read the newspapers. Females of all ages are struck by virus! Read other headlines.

The social hysteria did the job and mostly everyone left.

As in every human country, there are orphans, boys that aren't cared for by anyone. That was our target, as a shelter, we claimed all the orphans on the street, and also those in institutions, for nobody wanted to remain in this cursed land. Some other boys, specimens who we considered genetically apt have also been taken into the shelter by faking their parents' deaths. Of course they weren't murdered, but memory wiped and placed in a life of wealth in different communities throughout the country.

Let me make this very clear: our boys are well taken care of in our shelter, we see to their every need.

Since the wiping, we've been doing recon missions and harvesting the young males between the ages of fourteen and nineteen, for it is in those stages that their seminal secretion is richer in the elements we seek. Properly trained, we'll make their production last all the way through their forties, when they'll be retired and given a nice life in peace. The first retirement home is under construction in an arid land located in the North Pole of this planet. Master Kre'lmi Prime will be running the site.

The first comers upon our settling have now been moved to proctors, and the generation after was moved into apprentices. Proctors have proven loyal subjects, so long as they receive what they most desire: sex with us, the masters. In all the years I've lived, I'd never found a species so lustful, except for mine. Many of them are docile, many of them are not, but we've tamed them and in the end all of them lust for the same thing: our seminal secretion, which they worship. So we have entangled in a symbiosis with them, we keep them willingly providing us with their precious semen, and we keep them loyal to our apetites by providing them with ours.

Perfect cycle.

In what few interactions we have with newbies we assume human shape, though it is hard and takes up a lot of our energy. Or, we subject them to memory wipes. But I'm not fond of memory wipes, I have come to really appreciate males of this species as our opposite and complement. Probably many other Unguli masters don't share my ideas, but I've come to really love this humans. I mean it, I love their tenacity, their ability to adapt, their desire to grow and advance. But most of all, I admire their lust and their sex drive. We never let newbies, apprentices, trainees or aides see our actual form. The only ones who have now seen us are the Proctors, but by then they're so addicted to our semen and so used to our apetites, that they do not feel disgusted by the sight of us. By then, we have built so much curiosity and desire upon them, that all they want is to worship and serve us. It works perfectly for us.

Perfect cycle.



Chapter 1



Donovan Warren's Journal

February 26th 2345

0900 hours


My parents are dead. They were taken by apparently this pandemic they talk about in the news. It all started around ten years ago or so. Adults started dying and then leaving. Nobody really knows why, but it did. A Shelter for orphans was built and little by little I've seen the people disappear from the streets. Now it's my turn. My parents are dead...Dead! I'm alone now. I'm scared. My hands are shaking. I'm alone...I'm alone!

Two young men from the shelter are talking to me. They are nice. One of them is blonde, athletic. He says his name is Ronald. The other is wiry and red-haired. He's Stephen. They talk to me. They both tell me about the shelter. They keep on giving me instructions and telling me everything will be fine. I can't hear them. Something inside me has died along with my parents. But I can't cry, somehow I can't.

These two young men take me away in a van. The red-haired drives. The other one is sitting next to me.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

What a stupid question to ask. My parents just died. Why does he assume I am okay?

"I'm fine." I say and turn away.

"Don't worry about anything," he says, "You will be very well cared for at the shelter. We all are. Some of us have been there for some years now. I myself was taken to the shelter four years ago. I know you're going through rough times now, but before you think of it, you'll be happy again."

I nod and look out the window. That's my way of telling him I don't give a damn. The building in the distance, a marvel of modern architecture, is growing larger as we approach it. It looks like a crystal dome with metal structures here and there. I realize we've been riding for over half an hour and also realize there's nothing else around the shelter but arid lands.

"I'm...scared," I finally say.

"Don't be," the blonde says, "you're about to start a new life. Everything will be alright."

His tone reassures me for some reason and I remain quiet.

Ten minutes. The van stops in front of the shelter. It looks like a nice place. I hope I'll be alright. I certainly do.

We step out of the vehicle and the blonde takes me inside. He brings me inside an office where several other guys await. Some are crying. Some are catatonic. Some seem distracted or gone. We must be thirteen boys in total. The blonde guy, Ronald, stays by my side as I sit in an empty spot. Stephen has gone away. Ronald explains that we'll be here waiting to be called by a doctor, who will make sure we're not carrying the disease. Only Adults catch it, somehow, but Ronald says we need to be checked anyway, just to make sure. He gives me some forms to complete in which I state I'm an orphan and agree to be taken care of by the shelter, moving out upon achieving citizenship, or before if I can get in touch with any family member. Not that I have any family.

A man in light blue scrubs calls my name. So I stand up and approach him. Ronald looks at me and smiles and nods in reassurance. I have the feeling that my existence is about to change forever. So I walk through the door, a door that will change my destiny. Life will never be the same.



Randall Chee's Journal

February 26th 2345

0915 hours


The pandemic never actually reached my homeland. But my grandpa was meant to die sooner or later, for he was old. We lived alone. My father left when I was very young and my mother died soon after. I was an orphan anyway. Grandpa was old and tired. He tried his best to raise me. In many respects he was always my father. But as years passed by I noticed he was tired. The old man was almost seventy years old and had raised four sons and two daughters. He shouldn't have gone over raising another child so many years later. But he did. And he was a great father.

When the pandemic started everybody panicked. But my grandpa and I lived isolated from the closest town, so we knew it wouldn't reach us. My Grandpa passed away last night. A van from the Shelter came in this morning after I'd notified the local authorities, which is a couple of very young guys, probably twenty five years old if old.

Two guys came. One of them is outside, making sure the arrangements are made for my grandpa's corpse to be properly taken away. The other is coming in right now. He sits in front of me.

"Randall, right?"

I nod.

"I'm Daniel. I'm not gonna ask you if you're okay, for I guess you're not."

"I'm fine." I say.

Daniel is young, fair haired with intense blue eyes. My guess is twenty two years old. He's very nice as he explains to me about the shelter and the processes. He says the shelter's a very nice place. He say's I'll find my way there until I'm ready to go out into the world. He says he had never met a Native American boy before. He compliments my long hair. Daniel is a very nice man. We ride in silence. I'm thinking of my new life and thinking about my grandpa. I look at Daniel smile as i fill my acceptance forms, and I know I'll be alright.



Jeremiah Winters' Journal

February 26th 2345

1000 hours


I can't understand anything. Everybody speaks. I wish they would shut up. I'm crying. My eyes are watery. I'm not whimpering. But I'm crying. I was brought here an hour ago. A guy named Corey picked me up at my place. He's sort of short, I guess 1.70 and sort of built. He's got black and spiky hair. White skin. Blue eyes. Blushed cheeks. I used to live with my brother Peter. But he is gone. He's been gone for a week now. Don't know if he escaped. Don't know if he died. Peter is...was eighteen when he disappeared. I miss him. He was a red-haired like me. But he was slightly chubby. Lots of freckles on his face. Wish he hadn't gone missing.

There's more boys in this room. All of them are orphans or have lost their parents. Like I have. I don't know what I'm doing here. It's a shelter for boys, Corey said. For orphans like me, he said. Orphans. The word sounds horrible. Corey says he came here two years ago. He says he missed his dead family in the beginning. He says he is now happier than he ever was. I don't think that's possible. Family's family.

A new guy has come in. He's tall and slim. Dark hair. Blue eyes. He was brought in by a blonde guy. He seems quiet. I'm not. My eyes keep watering even if I don't want them to. Why? Why did my brother have to go missing? Where is he?

I'm given some forms which Corey asks me to fill. A man steps through a door and calls my name. He seems like a nice person. Corey tells me to go ahead. I'm scared. But I'm here. And I will be here for some time. I try and think of happier times. With my mother. With my Brother Peter. Nights I miss him the most. He would come to my bed in the middle of the night and we would cuddle. He liked cuddling with me and I liked it too. He said he loved cuddling with me, and bathing with me and playing funny games we played in bed. He was always making fun of me cause my dick was bigger than his and he said he was more intelligent because his dick was smaller. We always laughed. I miss Peter so much. I wish he hadn't gone away.

I stand up. I walk to the man by the door. He smiles. He gestures for me to go in. I'm about to officially walk into the shelter.



Hugo Smith's Journal

February 26th 2345

1000 hours


If you lived my life, you'd say life sucks. Not me. I've been on the streets since I was twelve. Found my way 'round a living. I helped people with their market bags. Do errands. Wash cars. Watch cars. Gotta say I steeled sometimes. Din't like stealing. But I haved to sometimes. I din't never steeled money. I steeled food sometimes. I was hungry, you see. When I growed a little older I discovered I could turn a few bucks trickin'. I was mostly seeked by loner guys. Was offered good money, food, bed for the night.

Then comed the disease. And people leaved the city. Streets started getting empty. I got happy coz I haved lots of empty places to break into. Found my way in a small comfortable house. I was living there for some time. But today they comed. From the shelter. I first runned, coz I think they was the police. But they sayed they din't wanna hurt me, so I stopped runnin'.

We're sitting on the small living room. The guy says his name is Adam. He reminds me of a trick I haved once. He was my regular. Carl was his name. Adam's thin an' white, Looks like a rich guy to me. He say he ain't no rich guy. He say he is a representative of the shelter. He say he will to take me there, where I'll to be happy.

Other guy comed too. Adam say is his partner and he drive. So we hop on a van. Adam say the shelter is close. Half hour from here he say. So Adam's partner drive.

"So," he say, "you have no family?"

"None," I say, "been alone for some time now."

"Are you happy, alone, that is?" Adam ask.

"Nobody ain't happy alone," I tell him, "but I manage."

"Won't be like that anymore." He say.

I nod. I look at him.

"This shelter place," I say, "people are happy there?"

"Very happy," Adam say and smile. He's sure got a white beautiful smile. "You'll be happy there too. Upon arrival, I'll ask you to help me complete some forms for your acceptance at the shelter."

I smile. I think I haven't smile in some time. But I think this Adam guy is right and I'm gonna be happy there. I'm not will have to steal. I'm not will to run away. I'm will to have me a place, a work and friends. I wish I can be at the shelter now.



Perry Bixer's Journal

February 26th 2345

0700 hours


I've been away for so long that the news didn't really shock me. See, I'm seventeen years old, but I've been in a boarding school since I was six. My family? Well, a workaholic rich bastard and my mother, a woman who was always more interested in her charities than her son. I had no siblings, my mother only had me, the one to blame for having lost her so cared for figure.

I don't complain, I never did. They have been strangers for me for so long I don't even think I love them anymore. Two people I saw on Christmas and summer vacation. But today, the principal at my boarding school in Massachusetts said he had something urgent to tell me. So I was summoned to his office this morning and was informed that my parents passed away last night. Car accident. He asked me to pack because he said two representatives of the California Shelter for orphans would be picking me up tonight.

So, I'm sitting at a hotel room, where these two representatives brought me. Arnold Kerrigan and Hikaru Johnson. 26 and 28 respectively. Fancy hotel, first class. Presidential suite. Hikaru's gone to get our tickets. We need to fly back to California, but apparently our flight was cancelled. I'm at the hotel with Arnold now.

"So, Perry," he starts, "how are you taking all this?"

"Fine," I say as I go through a book I've been reading, "My parents and I weren't very close, you see? So I'm fine."

"I see. Does the prospect of living in a shelter scare you?"

"Would it be different from a boarding school? Don't think so, no."

"Actually," he says, "it will be. You see, the Shelter is not only so, but it's a community. A community of happy people who work together for their own community.?

"Sounds boring," I say, still reading.

"Oh, it's not!" he says, "It really gives each and every member the opportunity to develop a career in what he's more suited for."

"Look," I say looking away from my book, "You don't have to sell the concept, really. I'm going there anyway."

"I know," Adam says, "I just...never mind."

I look at him this time.

"I'm sorry," I say, "I'm being rude. I don't mean to."

He smiles.

"It's fine," he says, "I just wanted you to know that the Shelter really is a nice place to live at. That's all."

"Thank you," I tell him, "really."

We remain quiet and wait for Hikaru.



Andreas Rainheart's Journal

February 26th 2345

1020 hours


I am standing in the doorway as they come. I wasn't expecting anyone to show, but they did. They're here for me and I'm glad. There was never space for me at home anyway. I'm the youngest of four brothers. My parents were mature and tired when they had me. Mom was forty one when I was born. Dad was forty six. My other siblings were no longer home, save for Richard. They had married. Richard never married, he said women were otherworldly creatures. But he would date a different one every week or so.

My mom passed away when I was twelve. Massive heart attack. Dad died three years ago. Massive heart attack as well. Richard told me a week ago he was going to UK to study a master's and could not take me with him. Richard was the closest to a father I ever had. Now he's putting me under care of the California Shelter. Only until he comes back from UK he said. That's bullcrap. My parents thought I was weird. I never actually told them I was gay, but I think a parent knows. Since I was a kid I was different. Most of my friends were girls. I was really good at sports but I was uncomfortable around guys. It became more uncomfortable as I grew, for every time we hit the showers during soccer training, some guys would cover their privates looking my way. Then I would blush and turn the other side.

I couldn't help it, when puberty hit I started feeling attracted to boys in a totally different way. During showers, I would try and be as discreet as possible, but I would try and find the occasion to sneak peak and catch a glimpse of a cock if I ever had the chance. My coach, a twenty-nine year old good looking buff hairy blonde, did not fail to see that, so one afternoon after training he said he wanted me to stay, for he needed to talk to me. When I came into his office, that one lucky beginning of summer afternoon, after soccer training and after the showers, I had my very first ever.

It's not what you're thinking, if what you're thinking is that I was molested by my coach. Many people's fantasy. But no. It was a totally different thing. When he started his speech about how he'd noticed the way I looked at my partners, I panicked. But then he said I shouldn't panic. He said some guys were different. He said he probably thought I was a different guy. But being different, he said, was not bad, it was just that, different. He said I needed to be careful not to stare, because being different would make me a target for bullies and the sort.

I said I totally understood. I said I was sorry I stared. He opened his arms and I hugged him and cried in his arms. And then it happened. My young and inexperienced hand, resting on his chest, started moving about. And I found myself touching his nipple. He asked me not to. He said I had to go home. But I knew I must be doing something right for his eyes had closed and he was heavily breathing. I was sitting on his lap and my other hand started exploring the bulge I felt under his pants. That was the very first time I sucked someone. And we were lovers for some time. Until last december, when he left the school and I never heard of him again.

Now, my brother has decided to get rid of me. And the people from the shelter have come. They talked to my brother and signed all the paper work. They asked me if I'd consented to be put under their care. I said yes. They've been talking to me for some minutes now. I know everything will be alright.



To be continued...



Next Episode in the Symbiosis Saga:

"Chapter 2: The measure of a boy"



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