Date: Mon, 18 Jul 2016 22:11:51 +0000 (UTC)
From: aboardthedarwin@yahoo.com
Subject: Thirsty Planet - Part 2

Disclaimer: This story contains graphic sexual content with an emphasis on
sci-fi creatures and men. Forced orgasm through "unconventional" means is a
favorite fetish of mine, but there just isn't much of it out there--and
it's even harder to find them without fetishes that don't really appeal to
me. Complaining can be shamefully fun, but I decided to stop sulking and
write something of my own.


If you have any comments and suggestions (or maybe even related reading
recommendations) feel free to drop me a line at aboardthedarwin@yahoo.com.


This content is entirely composed by me. Out of respect for Nifty, I have
to ask you not to monetize it. However, I'm not going to go overboard with
the "DO NOT STEAL OR REPOST" business. I wrote this strictly for my own
amusement, and I hope you get something out of it too.


Thirsty Planet: The Reluctant Rescue


NATO Aeronautics Trooper Kenneth "Moose" Harris had expected that his
return to the Darwin sans-scientist wouldn't be met by a ticker tape parade
in his honor, but this was still worse than he had anticipated. Captain
Falk's enraged shouting had left his ears ringing like the time he had
forgotten to stuff them before weapons training in bootcamp.


(Jesus, It's not like I WANTED to leave him down there) Harris thought as a
fresh wave of tinnitus drowned out Falk. (Don't shoot the messenger, for
fuck's sake.)


Falk worked up such a fervor during the dressing down that Harris found
himself wondering if he really WOULD be shot over this shitshow. The
captain's sidearm remained holstered, but his decision wasn't much better
than putting a bullet in Harris' temple--at least not in Harris'
estimation.


"You WILL go planetside. You WILL retrieve that man. You will NOT set foot
on my fucking ship again until you do," Falk rasped. His bloodshot eyes
bulged out at the trooper, filled with murderous intent. "Am I understood,
you degenerate slug?"


Harris felt a wave of revulsion hit him as the insult triggered some very
fresh memories--images of black, slimy bodies charging at him with hungry
mouths opened wide. "Yes, sir."


Trooper Harris couldn't help but feel a sense of helpless disbelief as the
tractor beam set him gently back on Bismuth. He felt like a man who had
just escaped shark infested waters, only to find himself pitched back
in. All for the sake of a man that must surely be dead. (Or wishing that he
was,) Harris mused.


This time NATO command, in their infinite benevolence, had seen fit to give
Harris a motion detector. It was a chubby little waterproof console that he
would have to toss aside if he needed to shoulder his rifle, but it was
better than nothing. Harris tuned the tracker until the small insects
darting through the woods stopped appearing on the display. If anything
showed up on the luminescent green display, it would either be Assistant
Xenobiologist Holden or something big enough to be a threat.


(But the bugs could be a problem, don't you think?) The voice of Harris'
Xeno-ops Trainer, Carlos Ortega, whispered into his thrumming mind. (No
telling what's in those stingers, or swimming around in their blood. You
could swat them first and they'd still get you.)


"Eyes on the prize," Harris grumbled. "Let's get this shit over with."


The tractor beam had deposited the trooper about ten feet to the left of
where he and the luckier scientist had been retrieved, as evidenced by the
circular displacement of leaves and twigs nearby. Holden had fallen about a
100 yards to the west, towards a small stream where Earth's first
ambassadors had learned about the bizarre appetite of Bismuth's
fauna. Harris sighed and began walking, his eyes scanning the ground for
any sign of the eel creatures.


The woods were deceptively serene. A gentle breeze clattered through the
canopy above. Occasionally there was a squawk from a high, shadowy branch
or a musical insect screeching from within a dense, thorny thicket. Harris
was acutely aware of how much noise his armored boots were making as he
stepped through the dead leaves and dry limbs. Unless this planet's
predators were deaf and blind, the element of surprise was out of the
question. And the eels certainly hadn't been.


Harris crouched abruptly and shuffled behind a nearby tree for cover. In a
clearing, about 10 yards away, was a RuggedCam 4.0 with "R. Holden"
scrawled on the casing. He hadn't paid much attention during forest recon
training, but Harris knew the signs of a struggle when he saw them. He also
recognized the likely source of the shimmering mucus cooling at the
epicenter of the disturbed patch of forest floor. Eels.


Staying low, Harris made his approach. The area where the eel ooze lay had
attracted the attention of a small swarm of insects. They were similar to
velvet ants--about an inch long and covered in yellow fuzz. Unlike velvet
ants, however, their backs were adorned with broad wings that spasmed
periodically as they explored the slime. Every once in awhile, one of them
would explode upwards in frantic flight--usually returning to their party
seconds later. Their mandibles were also remarkable, long and powerful like
bullet ant's.


The voice of Ortega came to Harris once more. (Stingers, boot. Never
underestimate them.)


"I got your sting right here," Harris grunted as he slammed a boot down on
one of the busy insects. Its soft body was flattened instantly. The
unfortunate creature's companions immediately dashed away in a terrified
flurry of buzzing wings. "Now to business."


Harris knelt and began to examine the scene. It was hard to say what
exactly had happened in the clearing a few hours previous, but Harris
couldn't help but feel relieved by the lack of blood. By no means did it
suggest Holden was still alive, but it definitely meant that he hadn't been
torn to pieces where he fell.


As Harris reached out to check beneath a broad, slimy leaf one of the
velvet flies landed inches away from his hand. It returned to the air the
instant Harris swiped at it. Another landed next to his boot. Harris kicked
out at it, missing by a mile and tumbling back on his ass in the
process. Before the trooper could regain his feet, he felt the tickling of
many legs mounting the hairs on the back of his neck.


(Don't you do it,) Ortega chided.


"Fuck you!" Harris growled as he slammed one broad palm against the nape of
his neck. As the velvet fly's mangled body pressed against the base of
Harris' skull, so too did its stinger. The man had never been hit in the
back of the head by a hammer before, but he was confident that this was
what it felt like. Harris pitched forward into the ooze-laden soil.


(Didn't I warn you, boy?) Ortega chuckled as Harris' vision faded. (You
never did listen very well. But you hear what's coming, don't you?)


For a few seconds more, Harris COULD. A buzzing roar of countless wings
descended upon him, and then there was darkness.


---


Harris awoke as he felt a chill brush past his nethers and down his
thighs. His swollen, aching neck wouldn't allow him to look down to where
the velvet flies were just finishing their work on his suit with their
intimidating mandibles. His stubby, thick penis was exposed through a hole
that they had carved. The velvet flies didn't--thankfully--seem immediately
interested in it. Harris had lobbied many times for codpieces to be
included in the NATO uniform, and he took a moment to wish eternal
damnation on his superiors for their refusals.


Harris noticed that he was both moving and couldn't move. His arms and legs
were encased in a layer of hard, waxy casing not unlike the cast he'd
gotten after falling out of childhood tree fort back on Earth. Each limb
was propped up by a writhing mass of velvet flies displaying an uncanny
amount of strength as they moved their human cargo to parts unknown. Harris
had always been self-conscious about the length of his uncircumcised member
(in the showers, his bros called it "the bean can"), but it worked to his
benefit now. If it were any longer, it would probably be dragging through
the dirt.


"Let me go, you little bastards!" Harris roared, struggling against his
confines. There was absolutely no give to them. Every joint was locked in
place. He couldn't wiggle his torso much without his head throbbing out a
painful complaint.


(You'd better stop!) Ortega taunted. (They're just going to sting you
again.)


Harris hated to admit it, but he suspected that they most certainly
would. And as bad as the first sting was, the trooper found himself
wondering if his body could take another dose of whatever evil shit had
gone into his neck.


"I'll wait until they set me down, back off a little," Harris
mumbled. "Then I'll bust outta here and call in the cavalry on these sons
of bitches. See how you like napalm."


The ground beneath his face was now muddy and littered with white shards of
something that looked like smashed porcelain.


(Must be what's around my body,) Harris surmised. (So it can be broken
after all.)


As Harris worked out the best way to strain his bonds to the breaking
point, a hole in the soil slid past his face. It was about the size of an
orange in circumference and descended into darkness. The area around the
hole was lined with the porcelain-like material.


(What now?) Harris wondered.


The velvet flies below him trundled to a stop and began to lower him the
short distance towards the ground. Harris winced as he anticipated his
untethered penis getting smashed beneath the weight of his body. Instead,
he gasped as it slipped into a cool, vacant place.


(The hole!) he realized. The velvet flies that had been beneath him now
buzzed around the edges of his body, apparently trying to cement their
human guest to the ground.


"Now or never," Harris grunted, testing the muscles in his arms and
legs. "Let's do this!"


As the trooper attempted to flex his way out of danger, there was no way
for him to see the creature peering at him from a manhole sized opening in
the ground just a few yards away. It was very much like the velvet flies,
only its wings were small and useless on its massive 9-foot long thorax
that ended in a long, tapered section. The Queen regarded its strange new
visitor with huge compound eyes before sliding back into the labyrinthine
tunnels below.


From his place on the ground, Harris was also unable to see the huddled
forms of creatures big and small lashed to the ground just as he was. Some
of them thrashed fruitlessly against their bonds. Others lay motionless,
barely breathing.


Harris shouted in frustration. Whatever this waxy stuff was, it wasn't
going to be defeated easily. He shifted his head as far as it would go,
trying to get some sense of situational awareness. To his left was a velvet
fly regurgitating some kind of white liquid and patting it into shape with
its forelegs.


"Great, the little bastards threw up on me," Harris growled. "You're going
to need a lot more barf to contain this NATO soldie--"


Harris' train of thought ground to an instant halt as he felt the hole
surrounding his penis begin to vibrate with the approach of thrumming wings
through the underground tunnels. He began to struggle desperately until he
felt the tickling sensation of legs against his penis and testicles. Every
muscle locked into place. He held his breath, imagining the wicked stingers
and jaws mere millimeters from the delicate skin of his precious
organs. Harris braced himself for the jolt of pain that he was sure must be
coming. Instead, he felt something sticky and warm dribbling from the root
of his stubby penis down to the tip where it dripped down into the dark
depths below. His testicles were receiving a similar treatment.


(Are they coating my boys in that porcelain crap?) Harris wondered. (What
the hell would that accomplish?)


Unbeknownst to the trooper, the creatures working over his package weren't
the common drones tasked with securing prey and maintaining the
hive. Rather, they were a special class of velvet fly assigned to assist
the queen in her duties. Royal jelly, rich in pheromones and extremely
viscous, poured from the mouths of these insects and on to the human's warm
appendages. The substance had two purposes. One was to entice the
queen. The other was to help her achieve her ultimate goal--whether the
prey liked it or not.


A loud dragging, shuffling sound emerged from the tunnels as something
large forced its way upwards towards the surface. Satisfied that their work
was done, the breeding assistants scurried off of Harris and down to a
small exit tunnel.


"Thank God that's over," Harris grumbled when he was sure the insects had
departed. "Back to business."


Trooper Harris could feel something quite a bit bigger making its way
through the soil where he lay--and he didn't intend to find out what fresh
hell awaited him if he wasn't gone before it got closer. The man jolted his
powerful body from side to side, probing the carapace around his torso for
any signs of weakness.


There didn't seem to be any.


As Harris marshalled his flagging strength for another go, his groin was
yanked hard towards the hole containing his wet genitals. The Queen,
summoned by the powerful pheromones applied by her subordinates, had
arrived.


The Queen was slowly feeding the tapered end of her thorax up through hole
where Harris' penis dangled and dribbled. The tip blossomed open like a
flower made of wet, red flesh. At the center of it all was a sphincter that
opened up and began to suck in air with powerful gulps. The vacuum was
meant to force cocks from any protective sheaths they might have down into
the grasping organ. The technique wasn't meant for external genitalia like
Harris'. His penis and balls were tugged down painfully by the frustrated
Queen's efforts. The trooper's body was sucked flat against the ground,
making the suction all the more powerful.


"Jesus Christ, it's gonna tear off!" Harris groaned. "If I ever get my
fucking hands on Falk--"


The Queen was unaccustomed to having reach as far as she was, but she was
driven to press on. At last one of the labial flaps on her opening touched
something sticky and warm. Instantly, the folds slapped shut over the
object. The internal sphincter pressed upward and began to suck gently,
trying to draw in its small prey.


"Holy shit, what--" was all Harris could manage at this unexpected, but not
unpleasant, sensation.


The hot, moist appendages gliding against his lubricated shaft began to
incite a dull throb in his cock. It extended and fattened, drawing ever
closer to the ring of muscle leading into The Queen's innards. She shoved
her thorax upward a few inches while sucking in another gulp of
air. Harris' foreskin stretched just enough for the royal jelly soaked skin
to make contact with the creature's entrance. Pheromones rushed through The
Queen's bloodstream. The beast's instincts were ignited in a frenzy of
primitive lust.


Ignoring the pain, The Queen slammed her thorax forward and consumed
Harris's cock. The tight ring that has been kissing his glans shucked
Harris' foreskin back, leaving the head exposed to the walls of internal
flesh covered in small bumps. The Queen constricted her inner walls as much
as she could to properly stimulate the short, chubby organ. The royal jelly
served as both a stimulant and a lubricant, designed to keep the friction
of The Queen's forced mating at a level that maximized her prey's pleasure.


Harris' mind was consumed by pleasure and fear. In the darkness below,
something was milking his penis like no human vagina had ever done
before. But to what end? What was it going to do when it got its way? The
trooper would soon find out.


Wet squelching and sucking echoed through the subterranean channels as The
Queen violated her strange new visitor. Harris' fat shaft vanished and
reappeared as the alien appendage took him in and squeezed him back
out. The labial folds brushing against his testicles detected their sudden
contraction and knew that the end was near. The Queen forced Harris
balls-deep into her and held cock rigid with the skin pulled tight to the
base. Her organ chewed on him like a famished, toothless mouth.


"Oh fuck!" Harris groaned as he felt what must be gallons jetting out of
his penis into the grasping wetness below.


Gouts of human cum were instantly sucked deep into the creature. The Queen
tightened its sphincter around the twitching member and pulled slowly
upward, squeezing all the stubborn drops of semen from the angry, red
tip. At last, it slipped over the head of Harris' cock and retreated back
down into the dark.


Harris lay panting against the ground, his eyelids threatening to slam shut
with or without his permission. He had never been this exhausted in his
life. Inside the hole, his penis began to feel cold and small--like he'd
just stepped out of a hot shower into the icy latrines of his barrack. But
that sensation, like all the others, felt distant and unimportant. The
trooper's forehead drooped against the soil.


"I'll just rest for a second," he whispered. "Yeah, just a second. Then
I'll break out of here, get back to the ship, and carpet bomb this fucking
planet." Harris grinned, picturing himself riding through Bismuth's skies
at the helm of a patrol craft with guns raining fire and death on the
monsters below. The NATO trooper exhaled deeply and began to sleep.


Down below, The Queen rested her overtaxed body in her huge birthing
chamber. The strange new creature's semen now mingled with her eggs. She
did not know if they were compatible-- but she didn't have the capacity to
wonder. All she knew was that her duty had been fulfilled, and that she
ached. If this batch of sperm failed to produce a clutch of viable eggs,
her velvet flies would go find a more tried-and-true prey creature to
prepare for mating.


Or perhaps they would find another like the one she had just "processed."
Stretching up to him had been hard, but the member had been small enough
that it hadn't overtaxed her breeding organ like so many of the other males
brought to her. The Queen mused, in her own primitive way, that a creature
like Harris with a longer male organ would be just perfect. With that hope
in her simple mind, she too drifted into slumber.