Planet of Desire

Shipwrecked--A Prequel to "Planet of Desire"

An "Origin Story" for "Planet of Desire"

Call him "Stepwith".

Not that it is much like his actual name, any more than the words "whip-poor-will" sound like the call of the bird with the same name. But a bird-lover can write the bird's call in that manner and have it accepted. So let's call him Stepwith, for our convenience.

Stepwith is very old, older in fact than the galaxy he lives in. He watched the suns near his planet ignite, and watched, too, many other things, most of them beyond our senses or understanding. But one of his more minor hobbies is watching emerging civilizations on other planets, among them, a sparkling blue jewel known as Earth with its hairless, carnivorous descendants of apes.

That particular civilization, among others, intrigued him. It had potential, but is much too violent to truly become mature. Perhaps it had the ability to become less violent. He watched and learned.

Later, much later, the people of Earth discovered the first and slowest method of star travel. So at the same time (within the same thousand-year period), do others. Very interesting. His near neighborhood shall have a series of low-level interstellar wars. Most entertaining!

Time now for an experiment on these creatures. It is simple to adjust his planet to be liveable for the most interesting of his specimens. It takes only a few years.

Then the simple matter of setting up an electro- magnetic--uh, well, let's call it a "net". And then to wait for his specimens to swim into it.

It takes a while, several decades. But when you're as old as Stepwith, you have infinite patience.

The first ship of humans is caught in the net. Stepwith reacts with an almost human haste. This first batch, he wants planted right outside his front door.

When the "Starfeeder" hit the field, Captain Vanderpelt's first thought was that the Slan had found his little corsair. Damn it, his ship wasn't built for wartime! He had a crew of eighteen men, all from the European Union, and a few hastily added weapons, but any Slan cruiser could chop them into bits.

His pilot reassured him on that point. "We're caught in some sort of electromagnetic field, Captain." Lieutenant Bolton said in his clipped accent of northern Britain that just missed being the Scottish brogue. "It's shut down all our controls. Our circuits are fluctuating with the fields. My God, Captain, our rockets are firing!"

"Shut them down, Gregory!" Captain Vanderpelt ordered.

"I can't, Jan!" Lt. Bolton said. "We'll have to blow the fuel tanks before the acceleration crushes us." Already the ship was pressing them down into their seats, excess of two G's of force. That meant their ship was now accelerating at over fifty G's, a dangerous speed for their lightly built ship.

"Do it!" Vanderpelt ordered. Bolton jabbed the ejection button time and again before it worked, but in time there was a clunking sound and they were in blessed free- fall. Free-fall at over fifty G's of speed. But they had their attitude jets and the immensity of space to let them brake to a stop and emit an SOS rocket. In time, they would be rescued.

"Oh, dear Lord." Bolton sighed.

Vanderpelt looked up. A planet was right in their line of travel. But the odds of that were, well, astronomical! Impossibly huge! Vanderpelt cursed his personal demon and guardian angel impartially. With this war and his luck, he often wondered just which side had won the war between Good and Evil. The evidence didn't fit the official version!

But Bolton was a competent pilot, and this was a corsair, not a sleek scoutship. They had wings for aerial manueverability and the planet had an atmosphere. It would be a hellish ride, but they would live through this.

He warned all hands to brace for a forced landing.

Stepwith actually stepped briefly outside his home to watch the ship land. Childish of him, he thought to himself, but even he sought out the pleasure of watching a good job completed. So he watched the big ship as it careened overhead, circling over the land within the ring of mountains and sea, trying to pick a place to land. But those wings that had saved them also caught the huge downdrafts over the mountains, forcing it downwards in just the right pattern.

There was a tearing of a huge patch of trees and the ship landed within five hundred feet of Stepwith's lair.

Stepwith made what for him was a smile and stepped back in. No more need to interfere. He had planned for everything. including the tree that had gouged a chunk out of one side of the ship (and a smaller tear nearby) and the tree it now rested near. A very special tree, indeed.

On his way back, he turned on the machinery that exuded the thick red smoke that, in time, poured out of his door and over the jungle he had created.

Able Spacer-2 "Yizo" Wosciewicz picked himself up out of what used to be his bunk. He quickly checked his roommate, Spacer-2 Vincenti Ginotelli, who was also climbing out with no apparent injuries. Their little shared room now was being shared by a sizeable broken tree branch. Air from an unknown planet was filling their room! Deadly danger!

"We better be out of here, Vinny." Yizo said. He had trouble speaking Basic, which was created mostly from American English, after all. A tough language for one who grew up speaking Polish.

"Si, we vamoose." Vinny spoke as little as Yizo; their everyday conversation was a mishmash of Basic, Polish, Italian and various words picked up in their shared travels.

Their floor was slanted uncomfortably, nearly forty degrees off the level, and they tended to slide toward the sternward wall. They had to give each other a hand up after propping the door open.

Vinny was slightly bigger than Yizo, so he cupped his hands and Yizo used them for a step. As he lurched forward to try to climb the door jamb, his crotch ground into the side of Vinny's head.

To Vinny, the touch was like an electric shock. Yizo had such a huge cock, bigger even than his Italian salami, and now it was rubbing his hair and appeared to be trying to jab itself into his ear.

"Hey, watch you gun, Yizo." Vinny said. "My ear is delicate." He found himself fighting off the urge to turn his face and gnaw at the big basket, just out of friendly playfulness.

Yizo, too, found the closeness of Vinny's maleness stimulating. My God, he thought to himself, what's wrong with me? Vinny and he had showered together innumerable times, even washed each other's backs, with no rise out of his cock. Why was this touch exciting him? "Sorry, Vinny, it got mind of own."

Vinny chuckled. "Mine, too. No worry. Get out before we go croak-croak."

Yizo jumped and realized at the last second that he had to perch atop the door jamb. It meant an uncomfortable twist on his stomach, and to perch meant a narrow beam was grinding at his ass and balls, but he made it. Then he extended his hand to Vinny.

Vinny made it to perch beside him, though they had to rub across each other intimately to accomodate him. Yizo found Vinny's cock as hard as his. They had been out in space too long, he decided. Vinny and he had shared women before, the kind who hang around spaceports and enjoy having two men at once will do so for little money, the kind a simple Able Spacer-2 can afford. He had enjoyed watching Vinny hump at a woman's pussy while he fed his cock into her mouth. Once, he and Vinny had even kissed at the moment of passion when it struck them both at once.

Everyone has a touch of gay in them, he decided. That was what they taught you in school. The thing to do was to not worry about it, enjoy it, even. It didn't make you gay to enjoy another man's company a little more than as friends.

"Now we..." Yizo pointed at the corridor and made a "whoosh" movement. Vinny looked. Fifty feet of corridor slanted at the same angle as their room, and they would probably slide right to the bottom when they tried to leave their perch. At least it ended in a small cul-de-sac there. The important thing was to get the door closed and report the fact that their corridor had been breached before anyone besides them were exposed to any toxic substances.

"Si, we whoosh now." Vinny reached in and removed the prop, the door hit their legs painfully.

Yizo gave Vinny a quick kiss out of impulse. "Nice to know you, Vinny." he said.

Vinny smiled, feeling the moistness of Yizo on his lips. "Si, nice to know you if we croak-croak now."

They took the corridor slide like a ride, ended in a pileup on the bottom. An intercom was within reach there, and they reported to their Captain.

A clang told them that all doors were now sealed. They were as private as they'd ever be. Vinny took the opportunity to kiss Yizo back.

"You good friend, Yizo." he said. "We die now, I glad die with you."

They were private, Yizo felt his desires welling up overwhelmingly. He grabbed Vinny and their bodies ignited with desire. Too much need, too quickly, they were rubbing their hard cocks against each other without unzipping. Yizo felt his face flush, his body tingling madly all over.

He thrust his clothed cock at Vinny's crotch, feeling the hard masculinity there. They needed to breathe more than kissing would allow, and they touched their foreheads together.

Vinny felt the big Pole's cock ramming at him, and it was good! So good! Better than any woman he'd had so far. Maybe he liked men more than women, he thought to himself as much as his lust would let him think at all. So good to feel Yizo's cock stroking his, even through the layers of cloth. He rotated his slim Italian hips to grind at Yizo and panted his desire into Yizo's face.

"Good, Vinny, yes." Yizo whispered.

"Yes, good, my friend." Vinny panted back. "I close now."

"I come too." Yizo groaned.

Vinny felt his desire overwhelm him, he rested his head against Yizo's forehead and looked down, and in dim light of his orgasm, saw that his cock was able to pump his jism right through his boxers and through the jumpsuit, so that it stained Yizo's crotch with a white flow of his seed.

Yizo felt the wetness of Vinny's sperm and groaned. Vinny's seed was upon him, soaking his clothes, touching through all the layers his cock, that treated the cool touch like liquid fire, and he pumped his own wad. Stronger muscles were behind his flow (Yizo could shoot his wad over five feet) and he shot his wad onto Vinny's crotch as Vinny panted in his arms.

Their passion finished, they collapsed against one wall. Vinny looked down, and deliberately rubbed against Yizo so that their come was blended together against both their groins.

"Yizo, my friend." Vinny sighed. "Now you my brother."

"Yes." Yizo agreed. "We do more, when you want, you just say. Okay with me."

"You too with me." Vinny offered. "We more than friends. Always are. Now we show it."

"Yes, brother." Yizo said.

And they wiped their crotches as clean as they could. The doctor would want to examine them for contamination. They would not mention this episode unless he asked them.

He found a small breach, no bigger than perhaps a pencil lead in length and width. Such a tiny hole.

Dutch snorted. He wasn't going to get probed by the doctors for such a little breach! Damn it, it was bad enough that his father was captain of this ship, and everything he did made his fellow crewmen sneer. If he did something right, they claimed it was because his father gave him the easy tasks. If he did it wrong, they claimed his father would never punish him. Though Dad did, and more than he would a regular ensign. It wasn't fair, and he was sick of it!

So he took some tape and patched the hole. It was obvious, still, so he moved a poster that decorated his room over to cover it. That would do. Unless Yizo and Vinny came out with the blotched uglies, he wouldn't report this breach.

He was trapped in his room until they decontaminated the corridor and removed the exposed men. He shifted his bunk mattress so that he could lie down easily. Nothing to do, damn it, nothing to do!

Damn, and he was getting horny. When was the last time he'd been able to have sex with anything but Mr. Hand? That teenaged boy on Nova Terra, he guessed, the one who said he was eighteen, but probably was sixteen. He'd reeled in the timid little virgin with his body.

He worked hard on his body, fighting a natural slimness by beefing up his muscles until his movements were a symphony of roiling muscles rolling about his body. The natural hairlessness of his ancestry let him appear to the goggling men at the gay bars near the spaceports like a sculptured god, and he knew it. His flat, taut, squared-off cheeks, his rectangular forehead, his dark brown eyes slightly sunken that gave him a sultry look, the hair on his head a very light brown that the merest touch of peroxide could turn to blonde, he looked damned good and he knew it.

Dutch unzipped his jumpsuit and fondled his cock, remembering how it had been. That kid had drooled at seeing him, and he walked up like he owned the place and the kid. Little guys like him eat that sort of shit up. "Hello." he had said.

"Hello." came the response. "What's your name?"

"Dutch." he replied. Better than Jan Vanderpelt, Jr.!

"Tim." the kid replied.

"Well, Timmy, I ship out in an hour. I want a little fun before I go. That's you." Not asking, telling the kid that he was about to be fucked.

The kid ate it up, panted, "I rented a room upstairs."

"Then let's go." And Dutch followed the wiggling ass up the stairs.

The kid babbled the entire time about his parents who he lived with and didn't know about him because he hadn't told them yet. Dutch let it go in one ear and out the other, until the door shut.

"Shut up, kid." He snarled. "Get down on your knees and suck my cock."

And that kid had been good, he remembered. Good at sucking until, his cock a gray slather of saliva, he'd spun that kid around and rammed it up the virgin ass hard.

That kid screamed like he had been impaled on a spear. And that was about the size of it, Dutch packed eight inches of thick Dutch cock and he wasn't gentle about it. Virgins always yelled, after all. He'd popped that kid's cherry but good! Let him feel what it was like to have a man fucking him!

He was pounding his cock hard, and it was responding wonderfully this time. He'd worn that memory out almost, but now it was fresh and clear in his mind. The way that kid had yelled, begged for mercy, "Oh, God, take it out, please, take it out! It hurts!"

"Shut up, kid!" Dutch had snarled. "You gotta learn to take it. It hurts until you get used to it."

The kid had yelled some more, and Dutch snarled, leaned over and shoved the kid's face into the pillow, held him there while he humped that kid's tight butt.

The yells diminished, stopped in time, like Dutch had known they would. When the kid was quiet, Dutch let go and fucked him like mad until he shot a salty jism load into the blood-slicked butt.

Done, he'd collapsed atop the kid, and realized the kid wasn't moving. Worried, he checked for a pulse, and breathing. The kid was alive, just unconscious. He'd been a little rougher than he'd intended. Well, he wasn't going to let some virgin ruin his reputation. He dressed quickly, and walked out, leaving the "Do Not Disturb" light on. The kid could sleep it off, and would never be able to identify him. He'd returned to his ship and stayed there for the next two days, and lift-off. He'd never heard how the kid had turned out. A shame if the kid had died, but those were the breaks. It wasn't his fault if the kid was a screamer and had had to be silenced!

Damn, that part of the memory wasn't any fun! He usually didn't take it that far. Dutch pounded his pud some more and switched fantasies.

Among the eighteen crew of this ship was one open gay man. Able Spacer First Edouard Deladier, a Czech man, slender and blonde. Dutch sure wished Deladier had less of a mouth; you always heard about every man who used him. Some of the crew would slip into Deladier's room from time to time, but nobody stayed with him, and Dutch had fought off the temptation. If Dad heard about that, he'd never live it down!

He thought about slipping into Deladier's room (a solitary he didn't rate, by dint of his sexual preferences), maybe a mask over his face. Turning that sleek, nude body (Deladier slept nude, in case he had unexpected company, he said) over and fucking that tight butt.

Yeah, that was the ticket. His cock was heating up now! "Yeah, Eddie, take it." He panted to himself. "Take all of it, you little pussy-butt. I'm going to fuck you so damned hard, you'll never walk straight again, not that you do, you little sissy-pants. Yeah, yeah!" he broke off the sound effects; he didn't need them anymore. His cock was pulsating with electric impulses that raced up and down the hard shaft, his cock was absolutely pulsing like a heart, it was so damned hot!

Here it comes! Here it comes! He stifled his grunts and put his other hand up to block his wad as he shot all over his palm and groin.

"Whoof!" he told himself when he'd finished. "I got to figure out how to get Deladier pretty soon or I'm going to go absolutely fuck crazy. Maybe fuck every man on the ship, in alphabetical order! Yeah!"

And though he'd just shot a wad, he fondled himself into an erection again. It was a good day for jerking off, he thought to himself. Young, perpetually horny, and nothing to do but wait for the all-clear horn.

Underneath the poster, the tape had slipped nearly off. It wasn't designed for the slick walls of a ship. Through the gap, pink mist dribbled inwards. There wasn't much, but it didn't take much mist to do what it was designed to do. From Dutch's room, it was caught by the ventilation fans and spread throughout the ship. Such small doses. Small but very powerful.

Small, but powerful doses of mostly harmless chemical. All the pink mist did was elevate sexual desire in males. There was nothing chemically remarkable about it.

And the doctor who examined the two men and the air in their breached room and air from outside used shipboard air for a control. The machine he used was very complex, but it had to have a "norm" to compare it with.

So it showed that there was nothing in the air outside the ship that wasn't inside the ship. No dangerous bacteria that would react with human skin.

And the atmosphere was thus passed as perfectly harmless, clean and safe to breathe.

Captain Vanderpelt had only limited amounts of stored air aboard his ship. It would be needed when and if they managed repairs and took off again (but what would they use for fuel?).

So he opened the ventilation shafts to the outdoors, and the pink mist wandered at will throughout his ship. There wasn't much of it, at first. Stepwith hadn't turned his controls to fully on, yet. Not until they stepped outside for a while. Then he would unleash the entire dose of pink mist on them.

Stepwith watched while the men opened their airlocks and stepped out to examine their new home. Step One of his experiment was now done. Not finished, but a foregone conclusion. All he had to do was wait for results and see what these creatures did.

The men poured out to look over their new home. Captain Vanderpelt was the last, by his own choice. Eighteen men stood in matching white jumpsuits to stare at the jungle.

The trees were similar to Earth jungle plants, save that their leaves were pale blue. Orange flowers were in abundance, and the insects (that ignored them, thank God) were large-winged, red-colored bursts of glory.

"Nice looking place." Lieutenant Bolton said.

"Thank you for bringing us down here safely." Captain Vanderpelt said loudly enough for the crew to hear. "If you had been one whit less talented, we would have all died."

The crew knew their cues and, in their defense, it was heartfelt. They cheered Lt. Bolton happily.

Captain Vanderpelt looked around, found a small boulder and climbed up on it.

"Oh, God, Dad's going to give another speech!" muttered Dutch, just loudly enough for the others to hear. Especially Spacer Deladier, who was looking very nice this morning decked out in his close-fitting white jumpsuit. He needed some cultivating before Dutch could plow that slim ass of his and hope for silence.

Edouard chuckled and stepped closer to Dutch, thinking that this captain's son would be very nice to snuggle up to on the warm jungle nights, maybe in a hut built with their own hands. All the men looked very good that day.

Capt. Vanderpelt looked over his men and thought the same thing, a good, strong-looking bunch of men. He imagined them stripped to the waist, working at turning this world into a home, their muscled bodies glistening in the hot sun...he shook his head. Was he rambling?

"Men, we have enough stores to last us for six or seven months. But we'll also have to test the local plants and animals for food value. Dr. LeFebre can test it for poisonous substances, but nothing but actually eating it can tell us if it's safe and wholesome. That requires volunteers. If you're willing to take your turn and your chances for the common good, please let me know after this meeting."

"We have emergency supplies, enough basic tools to allow us to plant gardens and cultivate the soil, but it will require hard work from all of us."

"The ship is liveable, though badly slanted. I want to build a rock platform just to the left of here. Then we'll lift it on its attitude jets and make it level. We don't have the fuel to get home again. Rescue ships make routine searches of all systems; we will wait and hope they find us soon. But we must be prepared to stay here a long time."

"Duty rosters will be posted by tomorrow morning, ship time. We'll have to figure out the planet's rotation before we can adjust to local time."

"That is all for now. Dismissed."

And the men spread out into the jungle with an extraordinary rapidity. Capt. Vanderpelt stepped down from the rock and joined Lt. Bolton. "Well, Gregory, do you have any ideas about what to do this first day?"

"Not at the moment, Captain." Lt. Bolton knew what he wanted to do; ditch his friend and go beat off! God, he was so horny all of a sudden! "I think I'll saunter off and take a look around our new home."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Uh, not at all." Damn, couldn't Jan take a hint? Well,he could wait a little longer before whanking his rod. "How about this way? Everyone else went the other direction." Lt. Bolton led them uphill.

Capt. Vanderpelt walked with an increasing itch in his crotch. Not crabs, but just an overweening horniness. Was it the fact he'd be here for a time? Whatever the reason, he knew what he wanted. "Gregory?"

"Yes, Jan?"

"I want you to know how much your friendship means to me. Since we must be here for quite some time, I mean."

Gregory smiled. I know what you mean, Jan. It's good to face a new place with an old friend." The load in his balls were building fast. Like he was a fucking teenager again, instead of nearly thirty!

"What I want to ask of you, is, well..." Jan always believed in the direct approach. "Let us walk a little further from the others before I ask you."

With a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, Gregory accompanied his captain. Rocks blocked their way uphill; the two men turned to walk downhill on the opposite side of the ship.

Edouard followed Dutch, appreciating the slim, taut buttocks. He could actually see the dimples in the ass cheeks from this vantage point. Dutch was such a cute guy, and the looks he had gotten from Dutch were a dead giveaway to an accomplished sex artist as himself. He knew without a doubt just what Dutch wanted to show him. He hoped.

Around the back of the ship, Dutch found a small clearing of smooth, low-cropped grass. Perfect. "Here it is." he said.

"What is there so special about this place?" Edouard asked.

"It has two things very special, Eddie." Dutch said. "You and me." And he took Edouard in his arms, kissed him. He didn't much like kissing, but it was a small price to pay to convince Eddie to keep his mouth shut afterwards!

He played the seduction for all it was worth, running his hands down Eddie's slender form, playing and caressing the nipples. Not that Eddie had to be seduced much, because the little Czech guy ran his hands over Dutch's chest, grabbed the zipper and ran it down to Dutch's navel in jig time; and on over the huge bulge waiting there, to free Dutch's cock that leaped to attention as the zipper turned loose of it.

Eddie groaned with lust when he saw the huge cock, and he dove onto it and tried to shove the entire thing down his mouth at the first stroke. He choked, gagged on the monster schlong, and had to come back for air. He fished out his own cock and played with it as he tried again.

Dutch looked down and saw Eddie's cock, a long, slender, beautiful schlong. All of a sudden, he had to have it! "Lay down, Eddie." he panted. "I want a taste of that beautiful cock of yours."

In no time, they were naked and lying on the grass, enjoying the taste of man-cock shoved down their throats.

Capt. Vanderpelt was astonished at what he saw. He watched his son with Deladier, who had just knelt down to give his son, his own, only son, a blow-job!

Watched his son say, "I want a taste of that beautiful cock of yours."

Watched the two strip naked, seeing his son's lovely body all pink and fresh in the noonday sun, as the two men intertwined. Watched Dutch, his lovely young son, as he sucked on Deladier's cock! Deladier! The ship's whore, and his son was sucking his cock!

Jan groaned and rubbed at his crotch. The sheer perversity of it all was turning him on as his son showed an adept agility in sucking cock. Not his first time, then. "Son, why didn't you tell me?" he groaned softly.

Gregory was agog, as well. He hadn't figured Dutch for being that way. Quite the opposite, too macho for his own good. Well, they were screened behind a bush well enough to escape detection. He unzipped his cock and enjoyed the show.

Jan looked over at Gregory, his friend, and saw that Gregory was stroking his cock furiosly. Did he know his crew so little, then?

Gregory saw him looking, and reached over, unzipped Jan's jumpsuit and took out his cock. "Come on, my friend, enjoy it." he panted. "We all have needs. You, too, my friend. Isn't that what you wanted to tell me?"

Jan didn't resist, but didn't respond. His eyes were locked on the scene in front of him. His cock was red, engorged and enraged, and Gregory took that as enough invitation. He pounded both the puds in synchronization, enjoying the feel of Jan's cock, such a hot damned cock for a man of forty!

Jan watched his son's white body as it writhed atop Deladier. Watched as the two men's motions became more and more insistent. Watched as his son contorted, groaned, and obviously shot his sperm into Deladier's filthy mouth!

"Oh, my son!" He groaned again. "My son!" And his cock, the betrayer, chose that moment to hit orgasm! He shot his wad into the bushes under Gregory's ministering hand, feeling utterly dirty and disgusting.

Well, he thought in a sudden fierce determination, if this is life, then why not? He dropped to his knees and grabbed Gregory's cock, sucked it into his mouth with a high-powered suction.

Gregory was already close, and this did it for him. His captain and best friend was sucking him, and he couldn't hold back any longer. He choked out a warning groan, but Jan ignored it, and he blasted his load into Jan's hot mouth.

Jan drank down the entire salty load, feeling a certain satisfaction in this utter breach of every rule he'd ever obeyed. If these were the rules of life, he thought, so be it. He would embrace this new life.

Done, he looked over, to see his son and Deladier cuddling on the grass. Listened unashamed to their intimate conversation.

"You can't tell anyone about us, Eddie." his son was saying. "Especially not Dad."

"Why not?" Deladier replied. "Dutch, you are the best I've ever had. This was not your first time. Admit it."

"I know, but Dad would never understand. What does he know about sucking cock?"

Gregory stifled a chuckle. It was funny, but Jan would not appreciate the joke.

"You should trust him." Deladier insisted. "He's a good man. I would walk right into hell itself if he was leading the way."

"Yeah, Dad's a great officer." Dutch said. "But he doesn't earn any awards as a father."

"Come on." Gregory was suddenly embarassed. No man should have to hear his son say such things. "He doesn't mean it."

"He means it." Jan muttered. "And he is right."

"Then you can tell him later." Gregory insisted.

"No." Jan said. "I will tell him now."

And he walked into the clearing.

Dutch looked up, suddenly afraid. His Dad, here, now! "Dad! I, I...."

Hearing that voice, every word he had in mind fled like a flock of sparrows. Jan's stolid face cracked, and he knelt, took his son in his arms, held him while he wept profuse tears of penitence.

Vinny and Yizo had found a quiet nook of their own, underneath a sheltering willow-like tree.

"You tell me, I want more I ask." Vinny reminded Yizo.

"Ja." Yizo admitted.

"I want more." Vinny smiled.

They clutched each other hard and, this time, took the effort to remove each other's clothes.

Vinny kissed his way down the Pole's hard body. Those muscles he had watched so many times, in their room, in bed with a woman, in the showers. He clutched the big man to him, and felt the muscles of Yizo's back bubbling under his hands, the way they had when he would wash his friend's back in the showers. But now, they were face to face, and Vinny reached up to kiss Yizo hard.

Yizo grabbed Vinny's cock, all seven inches of thick Italian meat, and stroked it to firm rigidity.

Vinny groaned and felt for Yizo's monster nine inches and they jerked each other like that.

Yizo pondered whether he should suck Vinny's cock. But he had never done such a thing. Could he do that better than he did this? And would Vinny's mouth on his dick be any better than this warm hand that pounded him right now?

No, this was the best way for two inexperienced studs to begin their lovelife. There would be time later, better circumstances. He would suck Vinny's cock, he would take that schlong up his ass, he would plow Vinny's mouth and butt with his own rod. Later.

For now, they jerked each other off. It only took a few minutes, and when Vinny felt his orgasm grip him, he carefully moved so that he could spray it all over his Polish comrade.

Yizo gasped when Vinny's hot seed hit him, and he felt his own climax strike. He was quick to return the favor, and bombarded Vinny with powerful bursts from his long dong.

It had taken only a few minutes. They kissed, rubbed their seed onto and into each other's bodies, then dressed and returned to the ship.

Two of their experiences were remarkable.

Conrad Henlenberg was two hundred pounds of muscled German stud. The hair on his cock was as blond as his head, and he was stroking eight inches of Teutonic manmeat when he realized he had company.

A small creature had crawled out from the bushes. Green with orange spots, about the size of a large dog, it had the most extraordinary snout on it, flared like a trumpet. It looked at him with an almost human puzzlement. "Grunkel?" it called.

Conrad was too wrapped up in his pleasure to worry about this little, inoffensive-looking creature. It probably spent its days draining the sap from trees or something. "Get out of here!" he ordered peremptorily.

"Grunkel?"

"G'wan, beat it! Verdamnte scheissenessen!" Conrad snarled, forgetting all his Basic in his anger.

But the creature came closer, obviously intent on sniffing him. That trumpet snout was aimed right at his cock. Ah, let the creature get its sniff and then kick it into the bushes! Conrad let go of his cock and waggled it at the stupid creature.

And it sucked his cock right into its snout.

Conrad was astonished and a little frightened. Was he about to be castrated by this creature? It seemed so harmless and friendly.

Then the tongue and snout began its magic. Conrad felt the tongue like a dozen liquid caresses on his shaft. And the warm, moist snout pulsated and milked on his cock.

"Ach, beast, you are a friendly thing, are you not?" Conrad sighed.

The creature capered and speeded up. Conrad was caught in the sheer ectasy of this very capable love-creature! He petted the long, furry snout as it licked and sucked him into a frenzy.

"Ah, ah, ah, AGH!" Conrad shouted in sheer joy as he pumped his wad into the beast's snout. He clutched the long snout tightly.

Done, he still held to the snout. The little creature seemed willing to be held like this. "Beast, you are coming home with me." he announced. "And no one will eat you, I promise. You shall eat us!" And he chuckled at his joke.

The Captain would love to see this!

Millard White was the engineer's assistant, and a natural loner. He moved not away from the ship, but toward its bow, where a large tree offered some privacy. Like a willow, but it's leaves were huge things, almost like pods. He walked under its branches, and waited, listening while the voices and sounds of movement diminished all around him. Alone at last!

Such a mercy to be alone. He saw that an inner branch had apparently fallen to the ground, its pod-shaped leaf was spread out like a sofa. And it looked very comfortable.

Millard seated himself on the open pod and it was indeed as plush as any chair. He smiled. He would not tell anyone about this!

Such a strange, hot place to be stranded in. Millard felt that if he wore his jumpsuit one more second it would drive him mad. He stripped off the stupid boots and the confining suit and, nude as the day he was born, felt really free at last. He had learned as a child that, if you wanted to hide, hide close by. People always searched for you AWAY from themselves. This would be his sanctuary.

He lay back on the pod, which at seven feet in length could accomodate him perfectly, and stroked his rod lazily. It felt so good to jerk off with the breeze flowing over him, the insects buzzing about in crimson splendor, and a comfortable bed beneath him. Perhaps he would sleep here tonight.

As his passion grew in his stroking, he rocked the pod gently, and the upper portion began to push against his left side. He ignored it, caught up in his own passion and need.

Oh, yes, to be alone, cock in hand! He pounded his cock harder and faster, harder and faster! The top part of the pod was rocking over on top of him, and he pushed it away petulantly. The pod was acting like a coffin, interfering with his fun. And prickles were crawling along his back. Insects, or the fluff of the pod.

No matter, his desire was upon him. He ignored the discomforts and pounded his cock fervently. It was a wonderful feeling, lying here. Like he was floating in mid- air. His mind seemed woozy, lost in his desire. His orgasm was intense, but mind-dulling, like he was falling into darkness. He shot his jism all over his stomach, and lay back, breathing heavily. He felt lethargic. He'd sleep for a time, perhaps, before rejoining the crew.

"People." He snorted to himself. "Who needs them!"

It felt so good here. He went to sleep. And never noticed as the pod closed over his entire body, and sealed itself shut. The tree, satisfied with its catch, lifted the pod high into the air, to its very crest, in a slow dance that took an hour. Another pod dropped down to pop open.

By coincidence, this second pod covered up Millard's boots and jumpsuit.

Jan spent the afternoon speaking with his son. They came to a better understanding, and when they parted, his son actually leaned over and hugged him tight. Jan felt his body stir, and the memory came unbidden of his son's beautiful body gleaming in the sunlight. He pushed it away as he patted his son, and kissed his rosy lips. Such a beautiful boy he and Greta had borne. Poor Greta, dead now these fifteen years. His son had no memories of his mother. Such a beautiful woman. They looked very much alike, he thought not for the first time.

Gregory and he were alone now. "My boy looks very much like his mother." he confided.

"Really?" Gregory said.

"Yes. His mother was beautiful, too."

"You have a beautiful son, all right." Gregory said, moving closer. "But his father has some good looks, too."

Jan felt Gregory's hand perch on his inner thigh, a pool of heat. Jan sighed and moved toward Gregory. "We never had our talk today, did we?" he sighed.

"I know what you want, Jan." Gregory admitted.

"You do?" Jan looked into Gregory's eyes. "Yes, you do. And what is your answer?"

"My captain can have anything he wants." Gregory said. "Including me."

Jan reached for Gregory's warm lips. And so the captain, immersed in his own problems, never thought to check on his crew.

Dutch walked with Deladier from his father's cabin. "You know, Eddie," he said, "Dad's not such a bad fellow, after all. I guess when it comes to children, everyone's an amateur."

"I think you're right." Eddie said.

"How about we go back to my room and celebrate." Dutch suggested.

"Uh, I must decline, my friend."

"Why?" Dutch looked at Eddie, confused.

"Tonight is Thursday night."

"And?"

"Every Thursday, I have a meeting with one of the crew." Eddie admitted.

Dutch thought over Eddie's ramblings about his lovers. "That's right, you take on William MacDougal on Thursday nights, don't you?"

"Yes." Eddie said miserably. "I will stop that as of tonight, but he deserves one last embrace."

Dutch laughed. "All right, Eddie. You go take care of our Chief Engineer."

MacDougal humped Deladier with a fantastic fervor. He was disconsolate when Deladier ended what had been a long- lasting situation. So he, the Chief Engineer, never checked on his subordinates.

There was one more, the Assistant Engineer. But that was Conrad Henlenberg. And he was in the crew lounge, introducing his new pet, and letting everyone give the beast (dubbed a Grunkel, for its call) something to eat, and it only wanted one thing. Dutch followed the laughter, and had his go at the little green and orange, furry cock-lover. It turned into a regular orgy among the eleven men in the lounge.

No one missed the loner, Millard White, who was now peacefully asleep above their heads.

They missed him the next day. They turned out in force to search the surrounding area, armed with an infrared scanner that picked up body heat. They searched uphill, downhill, and across the mountainside.

No one checked above their heads where the odd plant was working a very peculiar alteration in Millard's body. A very unique alteration, indeed.

He watched Gregory as he scanned the communications bands and spoke to the groups at intervals, until the negative reports were more than he could stand.

Then he walked down the corridor. But "walk" is a misnomer. He struggled down the corridor which slanted at forty degrees to the horizontal. Welded steps here and there, and magnetic soles for his boots allowed him to wend his way with difficulty through his ship. They would have to live with it until they could level the ship.

He went and spent some time with Dr. LeFebre and Berger, who were busy examining some fruit-shaped plants (if you called a cock-shaped item with a fleshly pulp the color of a mango a "fruit") in the tedious round of testing and checking off potential poisonous combinations. That got impossible to enjoy in a hurry. "I shall go and speak with my son." He decided.

Dutch was furious. Of all the rotten luck, his name was drawn by his father as the one man to remain behind for no good reason! Why couldn't Dad have put him as a fifth man on one of the crews? He tinkered with the recalcitrant infrared scanner, hoping he could figure out why it didn't work. Tonight he would have to listen to not-so-subtle jokes about the "luck of the draw and daddy's little boy". Damn, if Deladier had only stayed behind with him, he could have fucked the little Czech hard and rough and gotten it out of his system. But Eddie was allowed to risk his life!

Dad had seen him with Deladier, him and Eddie sucking each other. He had no more than finished cleaning Eddie's cock with a few licks of his tongue when Dad had come bursting through the foliage, followed by Commander Bolton. Dad's cock had been flopping around outside his jumpsuit, and so was Gregory's; it was no stretch to realize the two had been watching him and Eddie, and beating off (Bolton's cock had been glistening. Was his dad a cock-sucker?).

He jabbed at the delicate controls in a burst of fury. The screwdriver hit slightly wrong, bounced over and tore a delicate connection. The scanner was now garbage.

He threw it against the wall in a fury. His whole room looked funny, kind of tinted, in some manner. He shook his head, failed to clear it, and decided on a walk outside.

Behind him as he closed the door, the pink mist hissed even stronger into the room. The hollow-cored branch that had torn the hole was feeding the pink mist into the little corsair like a hose.

Captain Vanderpelt met his son in the corridor. "Son!" He called in Dutch. "How are you today, my love-child?" It was a mere nothing in Dutch.

"Okay, Dad." Dutch said. "I just want a breath of fresh air."

"Let us walk and talk together." Jan put his arm around his son's body. Strange, the feel was not that of a child's body. He felt his son's strength as one man felt another's, the tense muscles like petting a semi-wild stallion.

His son really did resemble his mother. Perhaps that was why his cock was stirring.

He would feel better when they got outside.

Stepwith finished one of his (but there is no word for what he was doing; you must have the concept to have the word), and looked around. What was he forgetting?

Ah, yes. He flipped a switch on one of his controls and returned to his tasks.

Dutch, outside the ship and his father looking very human (and quite nice and vulnerable in the mid-morning light), was pouring out his frustrations.

Jan listened to his son with sympathy. "I knew it would be difficult for you, my son, when they assigned you to my ship. I did not ask for you. I knew it was better, but I had room for a trainee, and you were the man they sent. I did not plan it. I have tried to treat you as a member of the crew, as well as I could."

"But today, Dad!" Dutch knew he was whining, but damn it, it mattered! "When you saw my name, you knew everyone would think you were afraid to send your son into danger."

"I gave the slip to Gregory to read when I saw your name." Jan reminded him.

"I know, Dad, it wasn't rigged. But they'll say it was, and you know that!"

"I know, son." Jan searched for words to encourage without deceit.

"What the hell's that?"

Jan followed his son's finger. "Fog?"

"Pink fog? Coming from uphill?" Dutch asked.

"Maybe." Dutch said. "LeFebre passed this planet as safe. It must be harmless."

"I hope so." Dutch said. "No chance to get to safety if it is dangerous." He felt vaguely satisfied that he was risking this, at least. Then the mist reached them.

Jan turned toward his son, his son with the velvet skin, the soft, delicate lines, that conjured his dead wife so delicately, so carefully that there was no pain in the memories. He took his son and kissed his sweet lips, that tasted like ripe cherries, he took his son in his arms and desire welled up in him like a tide.

"Oh, God, Dad." Dutch sighed as his father's strong arms enveloped him. He was bigger in fact than his father, but these were the arms that had comforted him as a child, and now they held him with need, and he gave himself like a willing victim to that need.

Jan tugged his son's clothes from his body, until they fell in a crumpled mass around his ankles, and he tasted hungrily of the soft skin, that new skin so vibrant with life, that skin that was his own flesh and blood made into a new human being. His lips tasted that flesh, that had the wonderfully soft feel of satin, of chiffon, of the absolute essence of life.

Dutch never knew there could be such pleasure in another man's embrace. Was this what he had really wanted all this time, to be held by his father, to feel his father's passion as he unzipped his father's jumpsuit and took off that hated uniform (yes, he hated the Navy!), to leave his father exposed before him. To feel his father's hard cock joust with his for a position between their bodies. He groaned with need and ground his body against his father's, feeling his cock like a pliable sausage rolling between them and colliding with his own hard dick.

"Ah, my son, my own, dear son." Jan groaned, and of a sudden, without volition, they fell to the ground and began kissing with utter abandon.

The winds caressed their nude bodies with silken fingers, and Dutch found complete release of all inhibitions, he pivoted quickly and fumbled clumsily for his father's cock, found it and guided it into his mouth that was drooling for it. It was so easy, so right, to slide that thick schlong, the very manhood which had caused him to be born, into his mouth and slip his lips over it and back.

Jan shuddered as his son's velvet lips engulfed him, and he grabbed his son's cock and returned the favor, tasting the cock so filled with youth and vigor.

Their minds were lost in the vertigo of lust, they had no senses for their surroundings, all their essence, their existence, was encased in their cocks, which were ensconced in each other's mouths.

Dutch felt his orgasm approaching, and rebelled. "No, Dad, stop!" he gasped, and yanked his cock and body away from his father. His father looked at him with eyes glazed over with desire, and Dutch panted, "No Dad, not like this. I want you to fuck me." He, who had never been fucked before, Dutch, he lay on his back, raised his legs, and begged his father to slide his cock inside him.

Jan was too lost in his passion to argue, he stumbled on his hands and knees atop his son, and guided his cock with instinctual accuracy into the tight, pink tuckerhole.

Dutch knew that a virgin ass would hurt as it was first entered. But there was no pain, none at all, just a warm feeling of rightness as his father's schlong slid in tight and warm inside him, filling him full of male need.

When Jan was completely inside his son's ass, he made a few hesitant small thrusts, and that was all it took. Passion assaulted him, and he jerked, spasmed, atop his son's prostrate body.

Dutch felt his father's come spurting inside him like salty shocks of static electricity, he moaned a guttural keen and his cock ignited and he sprayed himself and his father's stomach with his seed.

Jan fell atop his son when his orgasm was over, to lay atop him and gasped for air and dignity. "Oh, son, oh!"

"Mm-mh!" was all Dutch could manage, sounds wrung from him like the last drops of energy from his exhausted body.

"My son, what happened to us?" Jan managed as, all of a sudden, sense returned to him and he realized that he was lying with his cock imbedded in his son's ass.

"I don't know, Dad." Dutch sighed. "It was wonderful."

"I don't understand." Jan said as he clambered to his feet and hefted his jumpsuit over his body.

Dutch followed suit and, father and son once again, they stood together, puzzling over what had happened.

"Was it the mist?" Dutch wondered.

"It must be." Jan said, as he stared at the pink fog that had clutched at them, wrung them dry, and now moved on down the hill.

It grabbed Gregory as he finished his latest rounds of checks. Gregory groaned, looked about for Jan, and realizing he was alone, unzipped his fly, took out his cock, and flogged it hard and fast. It took only a few strokes; it was like his cock was on fire with passion.

His come was a copious eruption; it sprayed over the communications control panel. Gregory gasped for breath, realized that he had made an utter mess of himself, and shame-facedly set about cleaning the jism off the controls before it could short out anything vital.

In the medical bay, Berger was temporarily alone. He had no real talent for these things; but it beat scrubbing floors like his fellow lower-rank spacers. He and ten others of the crew were "gunners", along to operate the weaponry, when and if needed. It left them little to do unless they made themselves useful to one of the regular crew of a six-man corsair.

Like medical assistant. So here was Wilhelm Berger, a huge man who had played American football in college back at Dresden Universitat, big and husky, brawny and burly and covered with hair, built to fight the equally big and even hairier Slan, dressed in a white lab coat and taking orders from a little snotty Frenchman like Dr. LeFebre. LeFebre was really such a tiny guy, cute in a, what had his sister called it, "vest-pocket sort of way". That was it. Cute if you liked them little. Bet his dick was as small as, well, as the smallest of these fruit he was helping to test.

"Negative for sulfuric compounds." LeFebre told him. "Begin the nitric series, if you please, Assistant Berger." That was the prissy way Dr. LeFebre talked. Like he was an idiot. Like it took more than opening the next box in the set and dabbling on the next group of dyes to the plant.

Berger finished the dabbling and, temporarily with nothing to do, picked up one of the biggest plants, one he hadn't tested yet. Nice hunk of meat, he thought lazily. Too bad it isn't a real man's cock. He remembered playing with a few of his fellow teammates back in college, in the showers after a hard-fought game. It made for a great camaraderie. He had hoped to find the same kind of friendliness in the Navy, but it hadn't been so. You either fucked "Any Dick Will Do" Deladier, or you beat your meat.

Maybe he could keep this monster, as a dildo. He palped it, nah, too soft. It would mush if he tried to shove it up an ass. Of course, the smaller ones were harder. He reached for one of those. Yeah, they'd invade a tight ass easy enough.

Berger never noticed the air had taken on a pink tinge.

In fact, he thought as he looked around. LeFebre was scratching his ass. Such a crass man. Why were so many medical men so slovenly when they weren't trying to be sterile? He had on just the lab coat and a pair of hospital pants, and they bagged way down, showing a small, hairy butt with each motion of the arm.

"Fuck you, LeFebre." Berger thought. Then, "Why not?"

LeFebre was startled when Berger grabbed him, ran his huge, hairy paws all over his body. "What are you doing?" he demanded to know.

"I have another experiment in mind, Doctor." Berger hissed at him. "One I will need your assistance with."

He bent LeFebre over at the waist, held him one-armed against his body, his ass crack showing over the slipping- down pants as LeFebre flailed helplessly at him.

Berger reached over and tugged down the hospital pants, and LeFebre's ass was now fully visible, twin hairy orbs with a purplish color where they met. Berger took the biggest green gourd he could find, and began to slide into LeFebre's ass.

LeFebre struggled all the more as the gourd slid into his ass, but there was a lack of urgency to his struggles. They were more violent but less effective. After Berger had it tightly slipped to the junction of the two smaller gourds that made up the gourds "nuts", he left it there and pulled LeFebre up by his hands until his feet dangled in the air.

"Yeah, that's a good fit, all right." Berger smirked in his face. "I thought it would work rather well and it did."

"You're insane." LeFebre whispered.

"No, doc, I just had my own experiment. Now, let's see if you can fit another in this big mouth of yours."

LeFebre licked his lips. "I'd rather have a human one in my mouth, if you don't mind." Was this him talking?

Berger was taken aback, but only for a moment. "Okay, doc, I can oblige you on that."

He dropped LeFebre to his feet, and half-expected the little Frenchy to run, but he didn't. Berger fished out his cock and waggled it at the doctor's face. "Well, doc, will you administer the treatment?"

LeFebre goggled at the thick meat dancing before his eyes, and suddenly he was down on his knees, his ass stuffed with the gourd jutting out behind him, and he was lapping at the thick German cock as fast as he could.

"Yeah, doc, that's good. That's real good." Berger hissed. "Now take it all the way down, doc. Time for your medication."

And LeFebre obeyed, glassy-eyed. He sucked and slurped the Teutonic schlong while he pounded his own smaller pud.

Berger grabbed him by the hair on his head and fucked him furiously all of a sudden, he grunted and then filled LeFebre's mouth with a thick wad of white jism that LeFebre gulped down hungrily.

"Not bad." Berger panted. "Now get up here on the table so I can get a lip-lock on yours."

All of a sudden, he didn't mind sucking the arrogant little Frenchman's cock. In fact, it sounded like a wonderful idea.

Captain Vanderpelt, followed by his son, burst into the medical bay. LeFebre was on the examination table, and Berger was sucking away at his cock. LeFebre had one of the gourd plants they had been examining stuck in his mouth all the way, and another one jutted from Berger's ass.

His son was right behind him. "Whatever it is, it's all through the ship." Dutch observed.

"This is against Naval policy." Vanderpelt said.

"Let it be." Dutch rested his hand on his father's arm. "They can't help themselves any more than we could. Let's find Commander Bolton."

Gregory! "Yes, let's." Vanderpelt led the way to the control room.

Gregory was just yanking himself to another solid hard- on when the control room door opened. He looked over with glazed eyes as his captain entered, followed by his son.

"Jan." Gregory gasped. "I can't help myself. I have to come, right now." He kept yanking his pud.

"It's all right, my friend." Jan advanced on his friend. "I will help." And he went over, knelt in front of Gregory, and sucked him down.

Dutch watched as his father sucked Bolton's cock. He couldn't stand it after a time, and unzipped himself.

Bolton saw the movement, motioned him over. Dutch moved over and Bolton gulped him down.

Gregory was in seventh heaven. While the father sucked his cock, he was sucking the son's cock. A good family to have around, he thought dreamily as he moved in the ancient rhythms older to humans than intelligence itself.

Orgasm grabbed him bodily, and Gregory speeded up his sucking on Dutch's cock as he pumped at Jan's mouth. Gregory dropped a good-sized load in his captain's mouth, and his speed was rewarded when Dutch clutched at his head, and pumped a heavy wad of teenaged come down his throat, and Gregory felt his pants' leg get damp from Jan's cock as the older man jerked himself off while sucking away.

They caught their breath, then looked at each other.

"We must warn the men." Jan gasped. "Raise all communications bands. Broadcast a general warning. They must avoid contact with the pink mist."

Gregory broadcast the call. But it was already too late. There was more than one source of mist, and it already had contacted every point on the planet.

Above their heads, Millard White slept while the plant sent chemicals through his body. These chemicals awakened a very old memory ensconced in the cells. Behind the demands of sexual reproduction was an older form of procreation. Plants still used it extensively, and this tree could ignite those old chemicals that still lurked around the human body.

Millard's navel jutted out. At its very crest, the cells there found a new stimulation, to grow. And change.

It took very little time before a second human being, very small, was attached to Millard's body by the reactivated umbilical cord. Nutrients flowed from Millard's body to the new life.

It developed rapidly over a matter of a dozen hours, until Millard would have recognized the face forming there. In old baby pictures of himself. It was the same face.

The pod containing the two humans began its slow journey downwards out of the sky. This time it would land on the ground well outside the canopy of the tree.

Damn, they looked good today! Rovan wielding the infrared scanner and in front of their "diamond" formation, Franco and Corato dark book-ends to the light-skinned Suomic man, and their nearly identical builds of compact maleness. Deladier sighed and quietly adjusted his crotch. He was getting extra horny. Perhaps he should call a rest period?

"What is that?" Manolo pointed to their left at a patch of pink mist wafting through the trees.

"Will of the wisp" Deladier guessed. "Swamp gas. Ignore it. It won't hurt you."

"I never saw pink before." Rovan said uneasily. "Not in all the Karelian Marshes of my homeland."

"Any life-signs, Tak?" Deladier asked.

"None, sir." Rovan replied.

"Then let's move on."

So they were unprepared for the assault of the pink mist. An upsurge of breeze enclosed them in it almost at once. Deladier felt its touch like ghostly fingers dancing along his spine and across his crotch. He was hornier than hell, he was with three men who had availed themselves of his services, and damn it, it was time for a break! His rank be damned!

"Rest period, men." He said. "Who's up for a bit of recreational exercise?"

He might as well have rung the dinner gong, for the three men were upon him in a trice. Deladier felt himself lifted up by the pressure of the three as they pressed themselves against him.

"Easy, fellows, there's enough to go around." Deladier laughed. "Who's first?"

"I can't wait." Vittorio warned his comrades.

"Neither can I." Manolo quickly added.

"My comrades, we must share this bounty." Tak offered in compromise.

They lowered Eddie's body to the ground after stripping his bare in mid-air. As his nude rump contacted the moist grass (God, it felt good, like feathers tickling his butt!), Deladier found himself swarmed upon by men nude but for jumpsuits coiled around their ankles.

Tak preferred to be sucked than fucking, so he had a jumpstart on Eddie's mouth while the other two fought for possession of Eddie's well-plugged but still taut asshole. Eddie's view was blocked utterly by an expanse of Finnish crotch while Tak's thick uncut schlong slid into his watering mouth and Tak's thick fingers threaded into his hair and around his head to force Eddie's mouth into synchronization with his thrusts.

Eddie sucked while making no effort to moderate the joustings of the other two. His legs were tugged back and forth until it seemed a decision had been reached, and a hard cock slid into his ass. Manolo's or Vittorio's? He couldn't tell; both had long, slender, cut cocks.

Then he heard fluent Italian cursing and knew that it was Manolo who had won the prize and was lifting his legs into the air until his toes touched the back of Tak's neck. Then the long Spanish cock was completely within him and he was released, to wrap his legs around Manolo and fuck himself by clutching at the slim waist and pulling that warm cock deep inside him.

Tak, ever thoughtful Tak, reached behind him and managed to grab hold of Eddie's cock, and the rough jabs of Manolo's groin was enough to stroke it for him.

"But what about me?" Vittorio demanded.

Eddie motioned him around, and grabbed Vittorio's cock and pounded him as well as the different motions of the two men atop him would allow.

Somehow it fell into a unison of motion, until all four bodies managed to blend into an harmonious whole.

Eddie, in the midst of all this horny maleness, was overcome early in the game, and found his orgasm building so quickly, so soon. He wanted to hold off, but found it impossible, no attempts to recite the names of soccer teams managed to find their way into his lust-driven brain.

He groaned, choked on the thick Finnish cock still pumping into his mouth, and sprayed Tak's back with hard spurts of his come. Tak gasped, and seemed to be offended, took revenge by humping at him harder and faster, more furious, less accomodating, sheer animal drives into his ravaged mouth until Tak groaned and spurted his seed down Eddie's throat in the void beyond his tongue where no taste and little feeling prevailed.

As Tak seemed ready to collapse, drained, Vittorio roughly pushed him off. "You're done now, Tak." Vittorio announced. "My turn." Vittorio hand-fed Eddie his cock while he still choked from the thick come clinging to his tonsils, resting his slim buttocks on Eddie's chest.

He lubed up Vittorio's cock as well as he could; the big Italian wasn't gentle in the least, but in time he had it sliding in easily. Good thing he was so experienced, Eddie thought to himself, this would break a virgin stud.

Manolo's thrusts were getting rougher, more insistent, and Eddie knew Manolo was about to come. So he eased off on sucking Vittorio until Manolo screamed rough-sounding Spanish words and pumped his ass full of jism.

"M-mh!" he exclaimed around Vittorio's cock, and Vittorio got the message.

"Ah, time for me to fuck you, SIR!" Vittorio made the word a mockery of the chain of command.

Eddie didn't care. As the long Italian cock slid out of his throat, he coughed and said, "Go ahead, Vittorio, pump me quick. Rest period's about over." Commander Bolton would be calling him soon.

Vittorio slid eagerly down and lifted Eddie's legs, and was soon humping him roughly. To be manhandled by a dark stud was one of Eddie's greatest pleasures, and he soon had another hard-on, began to pound it for the sheer joy of it.

Tak and Manolo seemed to have reached an accord, for they knelt over him at either side, Tak knocked his hand away from his cock and began to manipulate it adroitly, while Tak and Manolo guided Eddie's hands to their cocks.

Ah the joy of living! Interrupted by the damned communicator call.

"Squad Three, report in!" Commander Bolton called.

Tak grinned, held the communicator to Eddie's mouth with his free hand, pressed the "send" button.

"I'm kind of, busy right, now." Eddie panted. "No sight of, of, White, sir."

"You must avoid any contact with the pink mist. It will overwhelm you." Commander Bolton informed him.

Eddie laughed, choked, caught his breath. "Too late, Commander. Thank you for the warning, though. If you don't mind, we'll take care of our, uh, business and resume the search."

"Understood." Bolton said in that sexless voice of his. Did that guy ever get a hard-on? "Over and out."

"That takes care of that." Eddie resumed a hard assault on the cocks in his hands. Vittorio was grunting like a madman, he was getting close. "Fuck me hard and fast, sailor, we got work to attend to."

Vittorio obliged him and soon was practically roaring with his muffled groans while he pumped his wad in there with Manolo's.

"Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!" Eddie groaned. "Oh, harder, Tak, harder!"

Tak's hand became a blur on his cock and Eddie was rewarded when climax grabbed him bodily and contorted him while spraying his stomach and chest with hot sperm.

Somehow he'd kept his hands moving on the two cocks he held, and soon his jism was joined by a bombardment of twin ejaculations, Finnish come hitting him from starboard, Spanish come from port, but both covering him from crotch to sternum with their wide-sprayed loads.

Vittorio collapsed atop him as soon as he had finished coming, and so landed in the midst of the jism-bombing, getting pretty well covered himself, from the front by landing in it, and on the back with the last jet-spurts from his comrades.

Tak and Manolo draped over the interlocked pair, and it was almost a Renaissance painting of spent lust.

"Mmm-mmuhh?" came an interrogative animal sound.

"What the hell?" Eddie said. "That sounds like a cow."

Tak looked up. "It is a cow." He wasn't entirely accurate; it was a green-tinted animal shaped more like a yak. But many planets' animals bore Earthly names for their rough analogues; a "cow" it remained.

"Hot damn! Fresh milk." Vittorio said.

"Make that hamburgers." Manolo chuckled. "We have a bull, not a cow."

With that large organ, he must be a very popular bull with the cows around the jungle. It practically dragged the ground, and was emphatically human-shaped.

Eddie licked his lips, and Tak caught the motion. "Are you thinking of getting friendly with our local animal life?" he teased.

"Actually, I was licking off some of that sweet juice of you guys that hit me on my lips." Eddie admitted. "But that doesn't sound so bad."

"Think that size could satisfy you?" Manolo queried.

"Bet you couldn't take it in either hole." Vittorio said.

Eddie laughed. Maybe it was the mist that still hung about them here and there. But it didn't sound like such a bad idea. "I'll take that bet, provided the animal will hold still for such treatment."

It didn't run from his approach at all; it seemed tame and curious. Perhaps he didn't smell like any carnivore on the planet. But Eddie was able to walk right up to the creature and pet its flanks. It nuzzled him, soaking his bare arm with its wide, wet nose, and seemed to lose all interest, except for a call of pleasure as Eddie scratched its back.

"Okay, the bet's on." Tak panted. "I got faith in our leader. He can handle anything."

"How much?" Manolo asked. They settled on even odds; Eddie and Tak each had ten bucks bet that Eddie could do it.

"But which hole you going to try it on?" Tak asked.

"My mouth." Eddie said. "Not that it wouldn't fit in my ass, stretched out as it is by you guys, but I don't think I could fit into position for this beast. Besides, what would happen to me if it likes it and gets excited?"

"A hard fucking?"

"Too hard." Eddie said as he scratched the creatures spine and worked towards the large cock. "I'll stick to human studs for my butt-work."

Time to try for it. Eddie grabbed the long schlong, and it jerked immediately, curled up to where it was parallel with the ground. "Well, the beast likes it well enough." he observed.

He slid underneath the creature and tenatively tasted the big cock with his lips. The animal lowed appreciatively, but held still.

Eddie got the cock-head wet and then lunged over it. It was a huge mouthful, like the time he sucked on two guys at once, but this was even bigger. He had to pop his jaws apart, but he managed to take the entire huge head into his mouth.

"Damn!" Vittorio conceded. "You win, Eddie."

Eddie crammed it a little deeper and palped the huge shaft with his hands. The beast suddenly bucked and Eddie had his tonsils bruised by the huge organ thrusting into him.

And he was flooded! Huge amounts of...what the hell was it?

It poured down his throat, more than he could swallow, it gushed over his lips and across his tongue. Milk! He hadn't been sucking a bull's cock, he had taken a cow's udder in his mouth! What a milk producer!!!

He choked, and got free though it took all his energy, and popping his dislocated jaw back into place was painful. Experimentation by the men showed that as long as you "jerked the cock" of this cow, it would gush milk at you. They had a good deal of fun imagining the poor guy stuck on milking duties with these kinds of cows!

"We'll take it back with us." Eddie said. "If it'll come."

The cow rubbed its head against his stomach, licked at his arm as he reached to scratch the place its horns should have been.

"I think it likes you already." Tak observed.

Deladier reported their find to the captain.

Dutch patted his dad's arm. "It happens, Dad." he sympathized. Dad always took the loss of a crewman very hard. His eyes looked hollow, haunted.

"I'll hold a funeral at the end of the week's time. Until then, he's merely missing." Vanderpelt decided. "I'm more worried right now about what I can tell the men."

He had had Dr. LeFebre examine the air again, this time using strictly stored air for the comparison. Several elements immediately announced their presences, and LeFebre was trying to analyze them.

Dutch agonized, and admitted to his father his transgression in not reporting the breach. "It didn't seem important." he said. "I was in an angry mood and, well, I didn't report it, sir."

"You'll have to be punished for this, son." Vanderpelt announced. "How badly depends on the analysis." He got the results from LeFebre as the men arrived back from the search. Time for another meeting.

LeFebre led off the meeting after dinner. It was held outside the ship, for the results made the decision obvious.

"It's harmless to humans in most ways." LeFebre read from his notes. "The compounds are easily assimilated and broken down by our bodies into harmless elements, so it is not dangerous except perhaps in high doses at one time."

"I attempted to rig a filter, to see if we could live aboard ship and avoid its effects. It was no good. It could be filtered, perhaps, but not by any supplies our little ship carries."

"Its only effect on human beings is an increase in sexual desire. You get very excited by even slight doses. My assistant and I tested various levels on each other." And his ass ached because of it, he thought to himself. Berger was a lusty animal when aroused. He was getting attached to that big German cock being rammed up his butt.

"We have some air that is not contaminated. I suggest that we save it for use under conditions where sexual outlet would be harmful, by closing off a single room and supplying it with the stored air. This room would only be used for patients who need to avoid all sex."

LeFebre looked out over the men. "The rest of us will have to handle our increased sexual needs the old-fashioned way."

Captain Vanderpelt motioned him off and took over. "All the old rules of my ship can no longer apply." he said. "As of now, I am decommissioning the Starfeeder. She is now our home, and you may treat your rooms as your personal apartments. Or move out and build your own homes."

"Effective at the end of this meeting, all of you are hereby relieved of active duty, and are placed on reserve, to begin the moment a rescue ship finds us. You will all be civilians again."

"We shall meet tomorrow to elect officials to govern us. We must form a community. But that community cannot mirror one of a typical colony."

He had primed Gregory for this cue. Not that it didn't sound like a wonderful idea at the moment.

His men gasped when Gregory stepped up beside Jan and unzipped his pants, took out his cock and began to manipulate it. Vanderpelt seemingly ignored Gregory's treatment while he spoke to his ex-crew.

"We must make social allowances for our needs. Henceforth, I propose that we ignore the moral codes of Earth and create our own. I do not think it is normal for a man to live alone. If we are not to be eighteen solitary individuals, we must form couplings."

Gregory had Jan's cock standing at rigid attention. Jan gulped and found the voice to go on. "I will not command any of you to follow any but your own natural leanings. I suggest that we simply each decide to be available to each other as much as we can. I can only offer my own example. I know each of you very well. There is not a one of you I would not welcome into my bed and into my arms. If you wish me, I am here. I hope the rest of you feel that way about me and each other, as well."

Dutch watched Gregory pound his father's pud with an increasing horniness. Deladier slipped first under his arm and, getting no response, reached to unzip Dutch's pants and take out his cock. Dutch then seemed to notice, and his hand reached over to find Eddie's pants already unzipped; fished inside and drew out the Czech cock.

Jan smiled as he saw his son and Deladier imitating them. He reached over to fondle Gregory's crotch. "We must make a habit of this, if our experience with the mist has been any experience."

Yizo and Vinny were in the back. They had been equally quick to follow their captain's example, and now they turned to kiss each other hard.

"Dad, there's a patch of pink mist headed right for us." Dutch observed.

Jan turned his head, saw it was true. In the fading sunset light, the mist glowed with an eerie quality. "I suggest that each of you, uh, choose your partners for the night."

And the mist was upon them. Some formed couples; other more exotic couplings. There were struggles as some men rejected any attempt to prong their ass or slide a hard cock into their mouths, but it all worked out in time. Soon the only sound in the darkening jungle was the sound of men making love.

Jan raised his legs to let Gregory fuck his ass. He was more worried than he had admitted. One problem to their being a true colony had not been overcome.

They had no women to procreate themselves. Until children were underfoot, it was no more than a campsite that they had for themselves.

He hoped rescue would not be too long in coming, before men, aging and dying, lost all hope and interest in life.

The tree holding Millard White and his son, now a true baby, now rested the pod on the ground.

Yizo and Vinny were resting nearby, Yizo lying back while Vinny slurped on his hard cock. Yizo looked lazily at the pod as it slowly cracked open. He had more important things to do. Orgasm was nearly upon him.

Then he heard a baby's cries. He looked for its source, saw a hand fish at the crack, try to pry it open.

"Help!" came a faint, muffled call.

Yizo pulled his red, angry cock out of Vinny's mouth and led the race to the pod. He was joined by Vinny, who saw the hand, and then by Vittorio and Spacer-2 Gunther Schweizer, who had been busy nearby, Vittorio fucking Gunther's ass, and his cock still slimy with his jism from the fucking.

They tore the pod, now fragile and brittle. "I'll be damned." Vittorio said. "White, it's you. Where the hell were you?"

White sputtered and rubbed at his eyes. "Jesus, can't a guy take a nap without you guys worrying?"

"Nap?" Yizo said. "You go for two weeks."

"Two weeks?" White asked, disbelieving.

"What's that on your stomach?" Gunther asked.

White looked down. Silent, confused, they heard the baby cry again.

More tearing showed them that White was now a father. His restored umbilical cord fed a baby boy child in the nest of the tree's pod.

Jan Vanderpelt, Mayor of "Crashtown", looked down at the pod. The child was gone, but you could see where the small body had rested, a cup-shaped depression in the pod.

He had heard White's story. They had investigated, found another pod open and waiting like White had found that first day.

"The question is, shall we risk it?" he asked his Council, composed of MacDougal and Tak Rovan.

"Risk it?" Rovan queried.

"To have children." Jan specified. "It seems like a strange way to procreate."

"But if it works, then our problems are over." mused MacDougal. "I wouldn't mind having a wee bairn of me own to cuddle. And with the cow, milk is no problem." The "cow's" milk had turned out to be very nutritious, an almost perfect substitute for mother's milk. A careful diet took care of the rest.

Jan reached over and under MacDougal's improvised kilt, fondled the large organ there. It had become standard practice to play with each other's cocks like this. Most jumpsuits had been cut into shorts, and some had begun wrapping an improvised loincloth. Tak wore shorts, and it was child's play to fish under the high-cut legs and take out his cock.

A cock in each hand, Jan mused aloud, "We'll call a town meeting and ask for a volunteer to try the second pod. If it works, then our colony can endure indefinitely. Now if we only had a supply of Earth seeds."

Two hands were unzipping his jumpsuit and his cock was rising to the occasion. The problem could wait while needs were attended to.

Far over their heads, a large ship, filled with refugees from the blasted colony of Hindustan, met the electro-magnetic fields. It was loaded with Indian farmers, all males (their womenfolk were on another ship, which passed through the same field unmolested), and a large variety of seeds and seedlings, enough to establish them on another colony world. Hindu eat no meat, and no animals shared their voyage.

The large ship came careening down. Without wings, only a valiant sacrifice saved the men aboard. All four of the ship's crew, in the control room, died, but the ship itself was safe.

Stepwith had turned the pink mist on to full now. Three hundred fifty Hindu farmers came out blinking in the jungle sun, to find unadulterated horniness waiting for them. A few of them were clandestine followers of Tantrism, and had no problem accepting the needs of the flesh in its worship of the god Shakti.

In a few weeks, the two groups would meet. Negotiations would be swift and advantageous to both. The Hindu would have a means of propogating themselves on their new home, paying in seed and food, though mutated in the new soil.

And the men of Crashtown would find themselves de facto priests of the Temple of Children.

THE END