Date: Wed, 10 Nov 1999 09:01:23 -0500 (EST) From: Felix Lance Falkon Subject: "Eating Lesson" {Felix Lance Falkon} (MM, sf/fantasy) X-NO-ARCHIVE: yes (except Nifty Archive) "Eating Lesson" M/M, science fiction, outdoors and in, oral sex ----------------------------------------------------------------- [ Usual warnings apply: no one under age admitted without parent ] [ or guardian, shake well before using, not for internal use, ] [ slippery when wet, this side up, no dancing in the aisles. ] [ ] [ Copyright (C) 1999 by Felix Lance Falkon; you may save or make ] [ paper copies for your own use; do not post, repost, publish, ] [ or archive elsewhere than Nifty without author permission. ] ------------------------------------------------------------------ (The ** starts emphasis [underline or italics]; * ends emphasis.) ------------------------------------------------------------------ EATING LESSON by Felix Lance Falkon of Falkon@netaxs.com From orbit, I saw that Cliffsprong was still a beautiful world -- thousands of hilly, green islands and narrow, sparkling seas. It was one of the first Terran-settled planets overrun by the Knarst Horde, and it had been almost a standard century from the time the voracious Horde captured that planet until the Knarst's slave empire collapsed after the Battle of the Raven Nebula. Our Fleet was chasing what was left of the Knarst Fleet in the general direction of the Magellenic Clouds, so making contact with the Horde's former slaves was the job of the hastily-formed Resurvey Fleet of one-man space-ships like mine . . . which is why I was dropping out of Cliffsprong's sky. My last planetfall had been on Ing -- a planet of endless plains and a centauroid race that had cautiously listened to the news that the Knarst were gone for good -- so hills were a welcome change for me. I hoped for a friendlier reception than on Gnarr, where the inhabitants, though human, had become short, suspicious, and agoraphobic during the generations that they had slaved for the Knarst in the iridium mines of that smoky, volcanic planet. I spotted a village from the air, and grounded my ship on the side away from an obviously Knarst-built structure by a river. My first visitor arrived while I was still sampling the air and equalizing pressure: a blond youth of about twenty: broad-shouldered, muscular, and naked. He was waiting patiently at the airlock when I emerged. ``D'ya want to eat -- **Hey!* You're a people -- I mean a person -- a man!'' he said. ``That is right,'' I said slowly. Accents change over the years, and we Survey pilots had been instructed to beware of misunderstandings, especially at first. ``I am a person -- I am a man like -- like you. The Knarst have gone. They will not return.'' ``Oh.'' He looked me over carefully. ``But what is . . . ?'' He gestured at me, then slowly ran a hand across his own bare chest. ``This?'' I touched my own white coveralls, took a handful of loose cloth, and let go. ``This is clothing. I can take it off,'' I said, opening the zipper to my waist and baring my chest, ``and put it back on.'' I smiled reassuringly at the naked youth. ``I am named Roger.'' ``I am Arv. The Eaters -- the tentacled ones?'' ``The tentacled ones -- the Knarst Horde -- will not return,'' I said firmly. ``Then -- we've been found again!'' Arv jumped into the air. ``Ha-yoo! The Eaters are gone for good!!'' Eleven more young men trotted from the surrounding forest into the meadow. Ages ran from about fifteen to twenty; hair from silver blond through red and on to dark brown. All were naked, splendidly muscular, and nicely hung. A couple carried bows and wore arrow-filled quivers, making me suddenly aware of the weight of my heavy stunner in its holster. ``Be welcome,'' said one of the newcomers. ``The Eaters are really not coming back, then?'' ``Yes,'' I said, sitting down beside my little space ship. ``Gather 'round, and I will tell you the story. The forces of Terra, of old Earth, gathered inside a great cloud among the stars which is in the shape of a flying black animal. There they waited . . .'' And on the story went, while my audience sat or lay on the springy grass, intent on every word -- near-basic words, the whole composed by Survey Headquarters for just this purpose -- on to the end: ``. . . and now the stars in the sky are friends again, for ever and always.'' ``Ah-ha,'' said one of the audience. ``So **that's* why they were in such a hurry. About 30 tendays ago, three of their Seij-class cruisers came by -- one damaged so badly it crashed on landing, and the others looked as if they'd taken near-misses from your transwarp cannon.'' ``D'ya know how many got away?'' asked another youth -- a sturdy, red-haired Hercules. ``Near's we can tell, they tried to englobe your scouts in the northern quadrant of the -- the Flying Black Animal Nebula, and then your fleet -- eat it all, it's **our* fleet too -- did a double crossover and got 'em good.'' ``Uh -- yes,'' I said. ``My story **was* pretty basic. We didn't know how much you already knew, so --'' Arv laughed, then said, ``The Eaters never bit into how much we had figured out either. They probably didn't **want* to know. Anyway, the other two cruisers stocked their larders and spaced out 'fore they could collect all of the Eaters -- the Knarst, you called them? -- stationed on planet. After that, we fixed the ones they left behind.'' ``Fixed them?'' I asked. With a grin, Arv said, **``We* ate **them.*'' His grin faded; he looked wistful and sighed. I scrambled to my feet, shaking stiffness out of the foot I'd been sitting on. My audience crowded close, some for a closer look at my clothes, all anxious for more details of the Battle of the Raven Nebula, and -- most of all -- news of Terra itself. I considered stripping, decided: not yet. # # # Eventually, someone suggested that I visit their village -- an invitation I'd been hoping for (on a first contact like this, one waits to be asked before going anywhere), and there was almost a fight between the red-haired young Hercules -- Terecky -- and blond Arv over who would be my guide. I quieted them by taking both. Terecky did most of the talking; Arv trotted along like a big, friendly puppy -- if you can imagine a blue-eyed puppy almost two meters tall, with hardly a gram of fat on a beautifully muscled physique, hung like a stallion, one moment as graceful as a cat and the next all but tripping over his own feet. Red-headed Terecky was bursting with questions, mostly about space tactics of our Fleet, yet he stopped that flood of questions again and again to explain something before I more than opened my mouth -- that the bowmen were going into the deep woods to shoot small game -- that the other men now leaving our group were collecting fruit from the edge of that small forest. Arv scrambled up a near-by tree as if it were a ladder and brought down something like a peach. Over the next hill was a half-plowed field. Three men from the group strode to the plow, pulled it out of the ground, and proudly showed me the subtle sweep of the plow-share and mold- board which, they explained, turned the sod with the least possible resistance. Then -- with two men pulling and one guiding -- they resumed plowing. Terecky explained that they had no tractors, and there were no large animals on planet: no wonder these men were so well built! From a distance, the village looked primitive: thatched huts; man-powered transport; narrow, winding streets; naked inhabitants -- mostly male and none looking more than 20 standard years old. But primitive villages don't smell as clean as a mountain meadow, and this one did. Primitive villages don't have running water, either; but we passed a crew of husky workmen who were digging a hole in the street to replace a section of water pipe. Blond Arv explained the water system to me; Terecky explained me to the workmen. Farther in, we found a pack of high-spirited kids scrubbing an open-sided kitchen under the direction of a broad-beamed woman. She stopped work long enough to show off the stoves -- all solar-powered -- then shooed us out of her way. At the river's edge, a small sailing ship lay alongside a pier. Boxes and bales lay on deck and pier; unloading had stopped for a game of water polo -- or something like it -- in the river. Nearby, a long, thatched roof covered a small machine shop where, Arv explained, villagers made roller bearings in various sizes for wheel-barrows, man-pulled carts, and bicycles. When we arrived, the workers were all outside, playing a vigorous game of volleyball, which they interrupted to explain and then show off their simple but elegant technology. And then it was evening, with no time to visit the odd- angled Knarst building at the far edge of the village. Instead, supper: several kinds of birds and small animals, fruit, vegetables hot and cold, and two complete re-tellings of the Battle of the Raven Nebula. Afterwards, I said -- a bit hoarsely -- that somebody ought to set the damn thing to music and save me having to tell it so often; Arv scampered off, then returned a few moments later with a small guitar and began doing exactly that, while other young men suggested a note here, a phrase there. I wandered back to my spaceship a little later, glad to have Arv's company on the long walk. He refused to go back to the village after we reached the ship, but regulations banned letting natives aboard. Arv insisted there were neither mosquitoes not predators on planet, and seemed fascinated by the very idea of anything large and carnivorous that hunted by night. He slept outside, on the grass, while I slid into my bunk aboard the little survey ship. # # # A thunderstorm woke me about midnight. I thought of Arv, damned the regulations, stumbled to the airlock, and invited him in. He scrambled aboard, eyes sparkling, splendid body glistening wet. I tossed him a towel and a blanket, then went -- reluctantly -- back to bed. I puzzled over what the Knarst Horde got out of this planet: they had enslaved humans on Gnarr to mine metal, enslaved the centaurs of Ing to grow grain for the Horde; but the people of Cliffsprong grew or gathered just enough to feed themselves, and seemed to play as much as they worked. Still worrying -- **what good were these muscular nudists to the Horde?* -- I fell asleep at last. At dawn, I climbed out of my bunk, stuffed my morning hard- on into my pants, and stepped into the corridor. Arv yawned, stretched, and climbed to his feet. He had spent the night curled up on the floor, but he woke bright-eyed and alert. I looked him over; he smiled happily back, not the least embarrassed by his own long, sturdy erection. I showed him the toilet and returned to my bunk; since there was no erection taboo here, I decided I might as well go naked like the rest and pulled off my pants. After another moment's thought, I donned boots and belt, with holster and stunner, which somehow made me **feel* nakeder than wearing nothing at all. In the mirror, I **looked* nakeder, too. Arv was bent over the washbowl with his back to me. I gritted my teeth and managed to keep going to the galley, where I fixed breakfast. When I apologized for the food -- Resurvey Fleet rations are just rations, after all -- Arv insisted that he **liked* what I served him. ``But compared with the supper you gave me last night,'' I said, ``this is --'' ``Woodsbirds and stuff? I'm going to make a **good* supper tonight, with **real* meat -- even if Terecky or one of the guys we saw plowing the brent field does too . . .'' He finished eating and scrambled to his feet, his prong still proudly erect. ``Come on; you'll see.'' I trotted after the tall, splendidly muscled blond. Outside, the morning air was cool on my bare skin; the sun, pleasantly warm. My belt gripped my bare waist; the holster was a reassuring weight at my hip. Springy grass under my booted feet gave way to soft earth under the trees and even softer plowed ground beyond. Arv scrambled up a tree and grabbed some fruit. As we strode along, I asked him, between bites, ``How come there are so few women in the village?'' ``Because ten times as many boys are born than girls. Or do you mean why **that*? The Eaters bred us to be like that, along with everything else. D'ya know, we pretty much took things the way they were while they were here. But now . . .'' We walked in silence for a few minutes, until Arv said, ``It wasn't all bad what the Eaters -- the Knarst did. If the old stories about the sicks and all are true . . .'' ``Sicks? Oh, yeah. You **are* a healthy looking pack of studs.'' I glanced at the muscular blond beside me; his lusty shaft was still erect, quivering stiffly with every pace. ``Of course, with the village so clean -- are all villages like yours?'' ``Oh, no. In Etin, down the river, they use a waterfall instead of a bath-house with showers, like we have; and they make the wheels instead of bearings. And Steff, even farther down-river, has a floating dock instead of a pier with pilings. And of course we have the Knarst cannery that takes care of the whole island.'' Arv gestured at the sinister, eldrich building as we neared its entrance. ``The other villages keep it supplied too. But now, of course . . .'' He touched his virile shaft, stroked it slowly. We entered the odd-angled structure, walking warily. I glanced around; as my eyes adjusted, I saw that this end of the building was a meat-packing plant. Three-meter-long chopping blocks stood in rows on the floor; here and there, naked butchers were reducing a carcass to steaks and roasts. I turned to Arv. ``Then you raised meat for the Knarst?'' He nodded. ``Raised meat, and then fixed it for them -- canned it or chilled it or froze it. Now, we just . . .'' I looked around more carefully but saw no sign of livestock. And if there were animals this big available, why man-pulled plows and wagons, why . . . ? I turned back to the tall, blond youth and asked him, ``what kind of meat? I don't see --'' Arv looked surprised, then grinned. ``Right here,'' he said, patting his muscle-plated chest. ``Us. Man-meat. Didn't you know -- no, you wouldn't. The Eaters thought Cliffsprong meat the very best -- it still is, too.'' I must have shown horror on my face, for Arv said reassuringly, ``We're used to it; it doesn't bother us at all. When a guy starts feeling -- you know -- **ready,* like this,'' Arv touched his rigid shaft, ``he knows it's his -- time.'' The naked blond turned to the nearest chopping block, where three naked workers had just finished disassembling a carcass. ``But -- but --'' ``After the last two Eater ships spaced out and we ate the Eaters that were left, we found that we still feel ready; and when we do, we have to get eaten.'' He squeezed his shaft again and licked his lips. ``Now that the Eaters are gone, we eat each other; and we taste lots better than woodsbirds.'' Arv turned to the nearest chopping block again and asked, ``Has Terecky been in yet?'' ``Nope. That was Lecwith,'' said the tallest of the workers there, scooping up the last of the bloody remains. ``He told us that Terecky'll be in soon; but with all the people coming in to see the Terran visitor, we can use all three of you.'' I looked around again. No, Arv hadn't been kidding. I heard someone two chopping blocks away ask, ``Who's next?'' A stiff- pronged man promptly climbed onto that block and stretched himself out on the blood-soaked wood. I turned back to Arv and saw him mount the block Lecwith had just vacated. ``Hey -- **NO!''* I had my stunner in hand as I dropped to a firing crouch. ``That won't do any good,'' said Arv. ``When one of us gets ripe -- and ready . . .'' He touched his rigid shaft again. ``Yeah? When I get like that, I don't get myself chopped up and eaten, I just go and . . .'' I stopped, thinking. **But with so few women, then the Knarst -- *that** must be why they bred -- and then . . .* I stopped again, and inspiration hit. ``Okay, **I'll* eat you -- right now. And none of you meat- heads better try and stop me . . .'' I waved my stunner menacingly. ``You'll eat me -- raw?'' asked Arv, his eyes wide. ``Alive, too,'' I growled, climbing onto the block. I pushed the puzzled but unresisting young stud down flat on his back and knelt astride his thighs. I leaned forward, grabbed his stiff prong with my left hand, and sucked the tip into my mouth. After a few minutes of hard sucking, I slid my stunner back into my holster and used my right hand on Arv's massive balls. Under me, Arv's thighs shifted; I heard a shaky sigh. Then he began to meet each bob of my head with a thrust of his splendid cock. In seconds more, he was squirming hard; seconds more, and his throbbing shaft jabbed deep into my mouth and erupted with an unbelievable spurt of sperm -- and another -- and yet another, until Arv's virile organs pumped themselves dry and he relaxed with an utterly satisfied sigh. I slowly got to my knees, licking my lips and breathing hard, still astride his muscular thighs. Fascinated Cliffsprongers surrounded the chopping block; even the stud on the next block was sitting up and watching. I spotted the red- haired young Hercules in the circle of spectators -- all looking very puzzled, and most -- including Terecky -- with very impressive erections. ``You said you were going to **eat* him, but he's still . . .'' said the stud on the next chopping block. ``Intact?'' I said, and licked my lips again. ``Not quite -- I've drained him pretty dry, but his balls will re-load real soon.'' Arv sat up slowly. ``Wow,'' he sighed. ``I never felt anything like **that* before.'' ``Still want to get cut up and then eaten for supper?'' ``Not **now!''* Together, the tall blond and I scrambled off the chopping block. ``But the **Rules* . . . ,'' objected the stud on the next chopping block. ``Eater rules,'' said Arv. ``And as long as you never think of eating as anything but getting chopped up and cooked first . . .'' Terecky asked, ``How do you feel now, Arv?'' ``Wow,'' sighed the tall youth. ``You gotta try it.'' Terecky hopped aboard the chopping block. ``Like this?'' he asked, stretching his muscular body out the bloody surface. I mounted, took his big glans, started to suck. He came soon, with a long, smooth flow that went on and on and **on.* While I was catching my breath, lying atop Terecky, he said, ``There are so many of us; maybe you could teach some of us to -- to eat people like this . . .'' ``Sure.'' We changed places; I lay back, shoulders propped up on my elbows, and watched the young Hercules take me. Terecky was eager, willing; he got better with every stroke as I coached: ``Not so hard -- use your tongue -- take more of my shaft now -- that's it -- you got it now.'' I put my right hand under Terecky's chin and eased him up and off my throbbing shaft. ``Okay, go practice on that stud on the next block -- that's it.'' I took a deep breath, another. ``Arv -- want to finish me off?'' The tall blond climbed aboard, pounced on my shaft, gulped down half its length, and choked. ``Take it easy, stud,'' I told him as he caught his breath, then carefully engulfed my glans again. ``That's lots better -- watch out for your teeth -- yeah, that's it -- work your tongue along the -- yeah -- now suck -- yeah -- your teeth again -- getting there -- aah! -- that's **it!''* Arv's awkward hunger quickly eased into an irresistibly erotic suction; all too soon I jetted a load of ball-cream into the naked blond youth. At last, Arv released my shaft and sat up with an anxious frown on his face. ``What about a -- relapse?'' he asked. ``I mean, if get to feeling -- ready -- and up hard -- again?'' ``Then I'll just have to eat you again,'' I said. ``And while you're recharging, we gotta start teaching everybody else on this planet how to eat each other **my* way, so . . . let's get started.'' ``Ya-hoo! Who's next? I'm hungry!'' ================================================================ [Copyright (C) 1999 by Felix Lance Falkon; you may save or make] [paper copies for your own use; do not post, repost, publish, ] [or archive elsewhere without the author's express permission. ] ---------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------END------------------------------