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Original Fiction

Written by Ruthless

The place that I was in was completely black. I didn't try to grope around to explore it. My hands burned with the pins and needles pain of having their circulation cut off in the rope that bound them. I was so thirsty that I took the skin of the inside of my mouth into my teeth and bit down on it, to bring saliva into my mouth. I was afraid. Oh God, I was so afraid that I could not think coherently. My mind jumped this way and that.

Aliens. Darloxians. They were going to eat me. How could they eat me? I thought hysterically. They don't have any teeth. The ship gone. Blown up. And me left alive, only waiting to die now. I thought of the hijacker. His face kept coming back to me, with the narrow intelligent lips, and the grim eyes. Unhappy eyes. No, not unhappy eyes. Cruel eyes.

I did not accept that I was going to die. I knew that there was nothing I could do, but ridiculously, I kept trying to think of things I could do. Break free. Steal an emergency suit. Hide. Absurd things. I was in the dark, tied, sealed in. I couldn't break away. Try to make a deal with them. Offer them a ransom. There was nobody to pay a ransom. Appeal to the man.

I've got to convince him to let me live. Again and again words rose into my head, reasonable words to persuade him. Useless words. Words I couldn't say. "I never hurt you." He knew that and would not take any concern from it. "It isn't right to kill me." He was a man who took joy in committing murder. The wrong of it delighted him. "I'll do anything..." There was nothing whatsoever that I could do that he would want.

I understood why I kept wanting to plead with the man. He was the human. He was my own species. I wanted to appeal to him, because in some way he was my kin. I could not even conceive of begging the Darloxians not to hurt me. I could only imagine begging the man. Yet it was the man who had the most malice for me. It was Darren who had murdered my friends for the pleasure of seeing them die.

They finally took me out of the dark and a big shrill Darloxian sent me picking my way fearfully down a corridor in front of him into the room full of aliens. The hijacker sat comfortably almost nestled under the ugly tentacle of a Darloxian. I didn't shape the words to beg him.

The blessing that the rope was untied, the flaring pain of circulation returning to my nerveless hands, the plastic cup of artificial milk that I was given to drink, none of these were as important to me as the brooding stare that Darren fixed on me. Speak to him, I told myself.

I didn't speak. All I had was the little courage and pride left to me, not to ask for compassion that he would not give. Soon I even lost that pride.

"He can be made pleasure from." Said one of the Darloxians.

Darren agreed. "Yeah." A grudging smile twisted his mouth. Pleasure. I was nothing more than a specimen to be inspected and explored for what little amusement they could derive from it.

I was pulled up into the air. The horrible feeling of the thick rigid tentacles locked about my forearms. I thought that nothing could be worse than the feel of the Darloxians gripping me, unless it was pain. I was wrong. Something tugged at my waist; a draft was on my thighs. The skin on my legs was stripped bare for their inspection, and then more. My ass was bare and a damp tentacle was prodding at my bum. Being naked and pawed by the Darloxians was worse.

That was when I lost the small amount of courage that I had and begged the man. Even as the whimpering words escaped me I knew he wasn't paying attention. His nostrils were flared as he looked at me, as if I was the thing that was disgusting and not the Darloxians.

I was held, arms yanked wide, the tentacles moving lightly, trembling against my taut thighs, and tracing up my ribs. The human stripped me. The smile that twisted his mouth was holding back a laugh. He jeered at me as he pulled my crumpled clothing back.

"Darren, I'll do anything..." I begged him. One tentacle butted obscenely at the cheeks of my bum.

"That's right." he sneered. "You will. Anything."

When he had stripped me as far as he could without telling his alien allies to let go of me, he took a half step back. You're shit!" he said, and slapped me stunningly with an open palm across the face. That was his verdict. He turned on his heel. Before he had even left the room, the Darloxian's tentacles were pulling on me, spreading me almost as if they wanted to rip off my arms and legs.

They were playing. That was all it was to them. The sucker tips plucked at me. The last of my clothing was peeled away. Huge shudders were racking me. I felt how clammy their skin was. I kicked. It only made my body jerk.

Deep rhythmic grunts were coming from the Darloxians. It might have been their laughter. It might have been like the throbbing of bullfrogs. I was laid backwards over a seat, so that my heels and head were lower than my belly. My crotch was the highest part of me. When a Darloxian lowered his huge mouth down on my bare cock and balls I screamed. The creature took them into his lips. He clamped down. I howled helplessly convulsing and trembling. I would have locked myself into a ball for the pain. His jaws were squeezing on me. He had my genitals in my mouth and was biting down, mashing the tender tissue in his powerful jaws.

They throbbed the harder for my screams. I was fighting frantically to escape. I was thrashing and flailing frantically, trying to slither away from the horrible things. But I wasn't breaking loose. My most violent jack knife only made me twitch. The tentacles that held me steady and exposed were so strong.

When a great round belly pressed against me the clammy skin shifted loosely on drum taut bulk inside. It was frog skin. The Darloxian had a bulging abdomen. It had a tall glistening prick, purple with ropy blood vessels when it was engorged. The creature was scraping me against its lower belly. The prick was as long as my arm, and incongruously straight on a creature that was all curves and limp wrinkles. It jutted over two feet long.

I had stopped begging. I was moaning instead of speaking. My squirming was futile. The tentacles that were wrapped about my arms and shoulder peeled away from me. My head dropped. I caught myself on the palms of my hands. They slid on the smooth floor. I was still being held by my knees. I thought that my legs would be dislocated, they were forced so wide by the Darloxian behind me. I felt something tear in the inside of my thigh, probably a ligament in my groin. The monster was holding me upside down.

I tilted my head up. There were two of the giant aliens in front of me. They were standing bowlegged, heads jutting forward as much as their neckless anatomy would allow. Their round bulging eyes were fixed on me. The throbbing was coming out of their wide slitted lips. In front of each of the Darloxians' bellies, erect penises were pointing straight at me. The thick limp organs I had seen before had swelled enormously, grossly big. I understood. The Darloxians were preparing to mount me.

I had not accepted the evidence before. The thought had been too unbearable to shape in my head, although the evidence had been there. A blunt wide probe was pushed into the crack of my bum. It wasn't a tentacle. It was the Darloxian's prick. It was wide and it was wet. It was seeping. The tentacles wrapped about my thighs and knees were hauling me backwards. The monster was attempting to fuck me and the other monsters were watching it, with penises equally huge and ready.

Out anatomy didn't match. The penis was in the wrong place. It was too high. It was grounded against my tailbone. But the Darloxian kept pulling on me and something had to give. The pressure was enormous. The penis slipped an inch lower and it was grounded in the softer skin between my balls and my tailbone. Its tip was as large as that whole area, but it was in the right place. The Darloxian was pulling so hard that I felt like my muscles were being wrung right from my leg bones. The wide thing was pushed irresistibly into my cleft. Deeper.

A groan tore out of me, not a scream. I was too paralyzed with horror to vocalize the agonizing sensation. Distinctly, I felt my tissue tearing. I tore in more than one place. The round tip of the Darloxian cock sank like a battering ram inch by inch into my rectum. It pressed deeper and deeper. I wanted to die. The pain was far beyond bearing. Shudders made my body twitch. My head flapped up and down. The gigantic thick cock slid deeper and deeper. I heard my own voice ululating in a continuous moan. I thought that I was dying. I was in more pain that I knew that my body could experience and still stay alive.

"It's tight!" The Darloxian above me gasped.

"Is it too tight?" Somehow their voices had changed. They had lost the human sounding modulation; they were going up and down, from bass to squealing.

"No, it's good!" My belly now hurt agonizingly, not only my ripped anus. There were so many sources of pain I could not process them all.

"Fuck the little human. Make it cry out." The Darloxian who spoke was waggling its huge prick almost into my forehead.

"Cry." The Darloxian that was holding me impaled ordered me. "Cry." Then he began thrusting, using the unhuman strength of his tentacles to drag me back and push me away. I didn't cry. It wasn't defiance. The only sound that I made was a moan. I thought that I was dying. I was stunned because of the way that I thought I was dying.

Each stroke was as violent as a gut punch. In two or three strokes I lost the breath and could no longer moan. I started to black out. I went limp on the end of his prick. I stopped being able to see. The pain remained like hammer strokes again and again and again. As I lost more blood the stroke became smoother and faster. I was as unresisting as a rag doll. Then, suddenly the pain changed. I was still in agony but the pain became much less. The huge intrusion into my wound was gone. I was tossed to the floor.

Slowly the black of unconscious ebbed. I was able to drag deep shuddering breaths into my lungs. I was sprawled on the floor. The Darloxians were squatting around me, poking at me with careful tentacle tips.

My arms and legs were pushed wide, pushed into the position they wanted me to lie. "He breathes well. Take him there. Yes."

I was lifted and flopped on my back on one of their couches. I was looking up into the grinning gummy maw of a Darloxian. The alien took me by the ankles and raised them up until my ass left the surface I was lying on. Another choked moan escaped me. I still had not escaped into death. The monster was placing the tip of his cock at the gaping wound in my perineum that had once been my anus. Black lightening shot through my head as the monstrous cock slid through the gashes. Shrill barks escaped the Darloxian's huge mouth as I was fucked again.

I never quite passed out completely, although there were times when the roaring blood in my head made the disorienting pain abate. Sometimes they took parts of my body into their mouths: My hands, the side of my chest, my penis or my shoulder. Then the broad jaws pressed down like a vice. My tissue was crushed. The wide mouths went snuffling over me seeking and sucking up any fluid that escaped from me, slurping down their own cum along with the blood that streamed from the wound in my bum. They were greedy to scrape their mouths over every taste of my salt blood and passed me back and forth to drink it.

"Dumb thing. It doesn't cry." I was tossed about. I was flung face over a couch again. The cheeks of my bum were forced wide. A tentacle probed my vulnerable opening, flickering into it. I kicked reflexively. One of their great mouths closed down on my foot. I gasped.

"Make it bleed more. Hurt it." A squeaky inhuman voice urged. I felt the thick tip of the Darloxian's prick being placed, the pendulous flabby balls slapping at my leg as he twisted me for a better vantage. The penetration began again. I convulsed.

Let it end. No more. I begged silently. Let me pass out. Get me out of this.

"Hurt it! Look at it shaking. Hurt it more!"

The steady sadistic pounding hammered into me. Tentacles writhed to wrap around my arms and shoulders; the moist slack skin was pressed about me. They didn't need to hold me steady. They hung onto me only so that they could feel the tremors of pain making me quiver. The throbbing from their throats was as rhythmic as the penis thrusting into my body.

There were four Darloxians. When the third one was done, the last of the horrible creatures held me and scrubbed the front of my body against his stiff prick.

"The human is so smooth." It commented.

"Don't wait. Fuck the thing. Ram it into it. It's going to pass out."

The tentacles suspended me upside down facing the creature. "I do it like this." I was on my back on the couch. The alien's long prick was sliding over my shoulders and poking at my face. It's own tentacles rode smoothly up and down its prick. It was jerking off into my face.

He's going to fuck my mouth, I thought. His organ was too big. He might be able to get the head of his cock in, but to do that, he would probably have to break my jaw. And then there would be no place to ram the prick. It would be too big for my throat. The Darloxian kept masturbating against my face and body. I waited for him to break my jaw and choke me to death. He thrummed his organ.

Another Darloxian was at my asshole now. It was mouthing and gumming over me, tilting my knees back to slurp and lick at the opening and at my unbearably bruised balls. The firm seeking mouth mumbled over me. I brought up a feeble hand to try to push him off and let the hand fall. I did not have the strength to struggle.

"Ugly, ugly thing!" One of the watching Darloxians chanted. "Hurt the thing. You're not hurting the thing."

The Darloxian took my hair with one of his free tentacles. He forced my head up so that my mouth was pulled against the tip of his prick. Here it comes... I thought. He went on masturbating. "Is not so ugly. I do it like this."

The other Darloxian squealed. "I sting!" So many massive aliens looming over me cut out the light. A delicate touch brushed wandering over my midsection. I didn't register it until it set on my chest. There was a brief instant of warmth and then it was a sudden savage heat, like a cigarette had been stubbed out on my nipple, like a thin bladed knife had been thrust under the skin. It burned. Again my body started shuddering and quivering. I felt it now as the thin stinging tentacle moved on over my ribs.

It stung me again, in the armpit. I could not make a sound. My head was mashed so far forward that my lips were crushed wide open and the Darloxian prick was pressed into my teeth. There was so much pain I was blacking out again. And now there was also fluid, slimy warm thick fluid jetting into my mouth, spilling out of the corners and running down my throat.

They let me drop to the floor. They didn't hold me down on the couch any longer. I lay on my belly, too damaged to lift my face from the floor, sputtering bubbles of the sweet acidic slime. I coughed it out of my nose. My nipple and my armpit were burning. My bottom hurt so much I felt I had been crushed.

But they left me alone for several minutes. I can't describe myself as recovering. I didn't recover. Eventually I choked enough of the slime out of my throat that I was breathing more normally but I was swimming on the level of unconsciousness, disoriented by the pain, not feeling anything but the pain, not thinking anything but a hysterical animal fear.

Tentacles plucked at me lightly again. The voices were soft and modulated into a human range again. "Chthri-Darren...." Said one. I was only hearing fragments.

"No, it won't die."

"Give it this. Just in case." I hardly felt the single sharp dot of pain as a needle was thrust into the muscle of my thigh. I was being given an injection.

"These may do for Darren. Perhaps these can be fixed and Darren will want them."

"I do not think this human's clothes will fit him well."

"But they are so the same!"

"To us they look the same, but this one, I think is smaller."

The Darloxian who wanted to give my clothing to Darren was obstinate. "He could use more cloth things like this."

I kept my eyes sealed, face pressed to the floor. I let the voices bring me back to consciousness and to thought.

"He is not leaking red fluid now."


"Yes, he is not leaking blood now."

"It has a good taste. I did not think it would taste so very fine!"

I was lifted, turned face up into the light and held in four tentacles like a child held in an adults arms. I moved again, cringing.

"Put the human in storage room again."

I was so battered and weakened by pain that I could not properly move, but they lifted my slackly hanging arms and tied my wrists together carefully behind my back.

"Chthri-Darren said tend its needs. What about give to it water and food?"

"No, it had plenty sperm to drink!"

Then they laughed, twisting their Darloxian voices to make the sound of human laughter from their alien throats.

I was carried down the corridor and sealed again into the unrelieved darkness of the black storage hold where they had kept me before.

The End of Part 3a



Written by Juxian Tang

I knew when they brought him back to the storage hold. Usually I didn't hear the sounds of the ship from my room - but it was the slightest vibration of the locks sealed I perceived.

I didn't have the light on. It was already late when I left the crew quarters and I thought I was going to sleep. I lay very still - for hours, maybe. Only it didn't help.

Was it because I heard him moaning when I was walking out of there? He had to be scared immensely, being left alone with the Darloxians. Humans were afraid of aliens, as far as I saw. Stupid way to take things; for all I knew it was people who had to be feared. Well, for Iver it would be a good cure from xenophobia, I thought. Not that I was going to cure him from anything, actually.

The things were falling apart. Today (or was it yesterday?) morning I knew my life was the thing I modeled - and I was satisfied with what I created. Not that I thought it perfect - but what I was doing brought the sense of equanimity in my life. And then the space launch disintegrated in the sparkling ball of fire. And my hostage was in the next room.

I wondered if it could go otherwise if I hadn't chosen him. If I had taken someone else instead. It was not my usual way to think things - in conditional mood - but if the explosion had its air blast - it was going on in pushing me - downhill.

In the darkness I got up and walked around my room. It was all useless. Noiselessly I went to the door and pushed it. The ship was dream-like quiet. I paced out and made several steps along the corridor to the door of the storage hold. The panel lock buzzed slightly and it slid open.

And then I saw him. The light in the hold switched on only with the door ajar - a wan glimmering under the ceiling. Iver lay on the floor at the wall. He fell dozed probably - his eyes were startled when he looked at me coming in - full of dread without real thought and somehow smaller, as if misted - and he stared at me as if going to scream. But he didn't. His mouth was gaped open - and I didn't hear the sound of his breath. He screamed silently.

I was silent, too. Unable to say a word. What did I wait to see? I don't know. I don't know why I was so shocked. He didn't have any clothes on. You see, I didn't forget I took off almost all his clothes myself. Did I suppose the Darloxians would dress him back, huh? And they tied his hands again.

His body was jerking as if in convulsions - and after a moment I understood what it was. He tried to hide in the corner. He couldn't do it.

I made several steps and set on my knee at him.

"Iver," my voice was almost unrecognizable even for myself. "Iver, do you understand me?"

He didn't have much expression in his sickly eyes; the jerking motions he continued to do were more or less refectory.

"I'll untie you," I said. "Do you want it? Speak to me."

He lay on his side and partly on his chest listlessly. His cheek was pressed to the smooth shining floor. He didn't even raise his head.

"Cold," he whispered swiftly, in a voice that almost didn't have any sound at all.

When I touched his hands behind his back he whined. It was a very thin complaining moan, nothing similar to what I heard before. I didn't have any knife at hand - I presumed I could untie him like that.

In the dim light I saw strange marks on his body. It was the whole big areas discolored - as if bruised. His shoulder, his side, even his legs. I even stopped my fussing with his rope to touch the places with the tips of my fingers. I made him flinch excruciatingly. The places were flabbergastingly tender. As if his flesh under the skin was mashed.

I could not figure out it. How could he be so much bruised when I left him only some hours ago - and the Darloxians spent with him no more than an hour? I knew how careful they were with their tentacles; of course, they could give a blow of stunning force. But for all the time I knew them they didn't inflict me even a slightest injury, even when we were fighting comically.

It's his skin, I thought. His skin's too vulnerable.

The rope fastening him gave in. I took his hands - so thin in wrists that I could clasp my palm around both of them - and so sizzlingly hot that it stunned me - and pulled them out of the loops. He moaned.

"Stop it," I said quickly. "I am not hurting you."

I squeezed his wrists so tight that I could feel the threads of his pulse - so rapid as if it indicated a heart of a bird.

"Come on, Iver," I whispered. "Stand up! I want you to"

I let off one of his hands and pulled him by the other. I had to call his name to silence his groans. I pulled him - he was inert, dragging after me, with his temple still pressed to the floor.

"Please," he asked at last. "Please, I can't."

I didn't like it.

"What's that?" letting him go I shook his shoulder. My fingers dug into the unbearably tender skin of his bruise. "What's with you? You are okay. I know it. They fucked you? Did they?"

I didn't meant it like a question. It was him who answered.

"Yes, they did."

I broke in. I wanted to say what I wanted to say, not to listen to him.

"Well, there is nothing extraordinary. Everything living copulate. You won't be any the worse for it. Iver!" did I try to reason him; I sneered nervously having this thought. "You are not even bleeding!"

I tugged him again. This time he resisted a little - and somehow it was of use for me - because I overpowered him and made him unfold. He was on his knees when I saw it.

The right side of his chest was deformed. The sight made me gasp and stay still, just gaping at it dumbly. What was it? There was a welt on his chest - yeah, it looked like a welt the most probably - a scarlet puffy swell, like a bolster of flesh. It distorted the outline of his chest. It seemed throbbing. It didn't bleed. It was just huge and swollen and inflamed. I needed some time to realize it was his nipple there.

"Iver," I had to find my voice - in several attempts but I did it. "Iver, what is it?"

I shook him. I made him understand what I meant.

"Stung," his voice was so feeble.

My throat was contracting. But why?! I knew the tentacles of the Darloxians with the stingers - thin and delicate things under their primary limbs. They used the stingers for paralyzing if they hunted. If they hunted! Why did they do it?

He had to struggle, I thought. He resisted them and they had to. It was the only way to pacify him. Surely, it was like that.

But the welt was so big. And the venom - they injected the venom to their preys - it didn't paralyze him. It was probably the metabolism of a human. I saw how the venom worked on animals - from different planets. Never on a human. But on what human could it be used? We didn't have any humans besides me until then aboard. What will be with it after? I couldn't look at it. It was ghastly. I reached my hand and touched the puffy swelling. It was hot. Even hotter than Iver's body. He shuddered clenching his teeth.

"It burns," he said.

I was gasping noisily, unable to control my own breath. But I had to.

"It will pass," I assured him. It had to.

Standing up and stooping I went on raising him. I didn't like to see him this way - so faint. He had to stand upright. He had to be able.

"Iver," I hailed him again. "Don't pretend. I know you can do it."

I rested him against the wall. Even with me standing so close he was going to collapse, I felt. His head was tossed back. He looked at me lifelessly, his eyes weary and expressionless.

I grasped his wrists again. He had bruises even on his hands! But it must have not bothered him terribly. He was slithering down. The only way to keep him upright was to raise his wrists above his head. I did it, seizing both of them in one my hand and pressing them to the wall.

He was flabby in my grip, hanging on his hands, almost didn't set his weight on his feet. I kept him.

When I raised his hands I saw another one in his armpit. This one was not so monstrously looking. But it had to hurt him - in this tender place. I was dumbfound.

I looked at Iver's face. This way as I held him his face was down in front of me. His lids sank covering his terribly pained eyes - and he opened them again. But there was no much animation in his gaze.

His soft mouth was so close to me - I looked at it even more than I looked in his eyes. Its corner was torn - as if he was smiling crookedly all the time. It was intolerable. I had hard-on at him. Plain and simple. From the moment when I saw him naked in this room I felt the excitement again - and no marks I found on his body could change it. Only make it more urgent.

The thin cloth of my pajama pants was raised with my throbbing cock. My head was burning. The urge to press the torturing thing between my legs to something soft and yielding was irresistible. I wanted to press it to Iver's belly. Only - you see - there was some mess with his genitals, I even didn't look there attentively. But still I was able to do it. I knew it. I knew if I stood like this for some more - I would stop caring at all whether he would be hurt with me - and I would press my organ to his smashed balls - and if he cried and jerked it would only be good to feel for me. And I could kiss his torn mouth roughly and lingeringly and touch his tender places - feeling him quivering under me.

It was what I wanted to do. It was what I was capable to do.

It was him who moved me. Him, Iver. From the first moment when I saw him. So neat his suave suit. So civil. The thing was it was impossible for me to take anyone else instead of him. It was him I wanted.

"The human," the voice behind me said and I released Iver's wrists. "The human was used well."

Even without looking back I knew it was Neaf. He was not it the room - too small it was for three of us - but I felt his bulk behind me - and his tentacles gliding in the air.

When I lost Iver, he fell down, crumbled, as if he didn't have any strength of his own. He lay at my feel now, curled in a tight ball, with his face hidden under his arms. I turned to Neaf.

"I saw the light and thought it could be Hurluck or Wagr here," he said slowly and calmly.

"I thought I heard something from here," I almost interrupted him. Could it be with two doors locked? But Neaf was not going to catch me lying.

"Don't worry, brother," his voice was almost soft - as far as his organs allowed him - and gentle anyway. "I see what brought you here."

I faced him, without backing when his tentacle reached and lay down on my groin. My stiff member pulsated under the touch. It was what I needed.

"No shame, brother," Neaf almost whispered. "No shame before me."

His tentacle was massaging my erection slightly - very careful, pleasantly cold touch on my hot shaft.

"We are seldom together now," he said quietly, his voice tranquilizing, hypnotic almost. "Too seldom."

"Yes," I whispered back to him. Our eyes were locked. He touched me - my chin, my hair - without stopping caressing my cock. He made his tentacle almost flat - like a palm rubbing my penis giddily.

"I would like to take care of you forever," he said. "You remember. How it was."

"Yes," I whispered again. "I don't have to remember. I just never forget."

"I could do everything for you," Neaf rustled. I didn't answer. And he didn't need my answer really. He didn't give me any time. The tentacle receded - suddenly - the space between us startled me - it seemed hardly believable that he could touch me from there.

"The human is very fine in making pleasure," Neaf said abruptly. There was no that intimacy in his voice any more. Rather business-like it was. "Even though it is undersized for us. But for you he will do all right. You should taste him."

I was licking my lips. Neaf sounded cool and easy.

"I know you like making pleasure with humans," he went on. "And this one at least doesn't have any of those bad diseases you used to catch when going to brothels."

I giggled. It was the only sound I made. Neaf made a step forward. For a moment I didn't understood his intentions. He stooped and wrapped two of his tentacles around Iver. I heard Iver's short shriek.

"I'll hold him for you," Neaf said raising him from the floor. Iver didn't uncurl, he was still wound up in this ball - as if it could make him small enough for Neaf to lose him. Neaf put him in front of me, on his face and knees. "How do you want him? Like that?"

I saw his two other tentacles bracing Iver's ankles and pulling them apart. He was trying to open his back hole for me. The sight was obscene. I felt sick. I felt I didn't have enough air. And really - in this tiny hold - it was too much.

"No," I barely found my voice. "Not here. In my room."

"Sure," Neaf agreed quietly and picked Iver up again. He tossed him on his shoulder and waited for me in the corridor until I entered my room. He came after me. "Where to put him?"

I looked around. My bed was too high and too narrow for anything. I waved my hand feebly.

"On the floor. No. His face to me."

There was no possibility to make him stand, even on his knees, I thought. Of course, Neaf could hold him for me - but for some reason I didn't want it. There was too much of rubber doll in him even without it. Was I going to do what I was going to do with this rubber doll? I was afraid, yes.

I slid down on my knees in front of him.

"Hey," I brushed Iver's soft hair with my hand, finding his own fingers plaited in. "Look at me. You hear me, stupid thing?"

He didn't uncover his face. I gripped his hair - without any force - and pulled his face up. I had to struggle with his hands again - but when I did it he looked at me almost lucidly. His sweet mouth was so close that it made me ache inside.

"Here is something for a change for you, cunty," I muttered half-coherently. "Not so big as my friends have, unfortunately. I know you are lusty for their big things, you space prostitute..."

I wanted his injured mouth on my cock badly. I even couldn't speak more. I pressed his face to my crotch through the cloth - for a moment - and his hot breath on my rod was intolerable. I yanked my pants down.

Now there was no any barrier between my swollen shaft and his gratifying lips. I sank his face down on it, feeling him opening his mouth submissively. The insides of his mouth were sizzling.

"Darren..." I heard Neaf whispering in a mellow voice. I hissed. The delight was too keen. The head of my cock pressed into Iver's palate. It didn't go further. It could - I could change the angle - but I was not sure I wanted it. It was so nice to go just like this.

Even if he didn't suck. Let's say, nothing of sucking to speak about. I think he tried - he probably presumed I wanted it and he chose to obey - but his motions were so faint that it almost moved me.

"No, Iver," I whispered to him. "No, clumsy whore, I'll do it myself."

I gripped his hair more conveniently and tugged his head up. His lips, half-dry, scraped my penis. He was not neat with his teeth, too. I pulled him up and pressed him down, his forehead setting against my belly. His smooth skin was slightly wet. I banged again and again feeling that he gave up any motions he tried to do. The only thing he did was to keep his mouth open - and I slid it up and down on my shaft accelerating.

I didn't prevent him from breathing - I heard his shallow inconvenient gasps - through his nose and around my cock - disordered. And I didn't make him retch. I didn't try to make him deep-throat. It was his mouth I worked with.

The sight made me be content even if the feeling was queer. His blond head bobbing against my dark-haired crotch. His hair was rather dirty by then - but still so soft it was, so fascinatingly fair.

"Darren," Neaf whispered again. "Look at me."

I looked. He asked about it. He was hard, too. His giant cock was pointing straight at me - though there was quite a lot of space between us.

"Humans are lovely," Neaf breathed out.

Two of his tentacles reached to me, the lower ones, stretching. He touched my neck, cool sensation of slippery pliant things. He stroked me. And he was stroking his own member, too. His tertiary tentacle was wrapped around it, sliding around, slowly at first and more rapidly after some time. He reached the speed very quickly. The same speed I was fucking Iver's mouth with.

I did it very fast. Iver was breathing fast, too, almost as if my frantic motions robbed him of breath. He stopped stirring his head a long time ago - now it was only my hand that guided it. I beat his mouth. He couldn't even hide his teeth with this speed - but it was not what I cared about. I knew I would care afterwards but - not now. I battered his lips numb with my terribly fast thrusting. I was bruising his mouth. I knew it. I liked it this way.

Suddenly I felt him jerking. It was because of Neaf. I saw him bowlegged behind Iver's back, with his tentacle slithering in his bum. He pushed it to his opening. That was it. That was what made Iver choke.

"Tight human," Neaf whispered. "This human was never penetrated before us."

By now Iver was very animated. He rocked his body, as if trying to escape - but no way. He was impaled from both ends. My cock in his mouth and Neaf's tentacle in his rear end kept him all firmly. And still he writhed. The tentacle was not so thick as the cock of a Darloxian. I saw Neaf screwing the tentacle inside him, rotating it together with thrusting.

"Good human," he exhaled.

Iver's fingers clenched on the cloth of my pants - so, that his fingernails became white. Neaf was sliding his cock against his narrow back, on one side of his spine. His cock was dripping.

I wondered if he was going to insert it. The size was why I doubted. But he had to be able to accommodate them, Iver, I thought, he said it to me himself.

"Do you mind?" Neaf asked me. He retrieved his tentacles from my face. Now he used them to spread Iver's legs up and wider, pushing his ass up from the floor.

How could I mind? We were brothers.

I saw him directing his penis between Iver's ass-cheeks. The size was incredibly wrong! It was dizzying to watch it; it even made me stop the thrumming.

Pressing Iver's face to my crotch I sat still. Neaf took his tentacle out of the hole and I saw him starting squeezing his phallus into Iver.

It looked morbid. I didn't see much - only how inevitably Neaf's member was submerging in Iver's body - slowly but without interruptions. I didn't hear any sound from Iver, even a muffled one. It was like he stopped breathing.

His back was shuddering. His muscles were trembling. He had to be tensed hugely. His fingers were now digging in the flesh of my thighs - but I could bet he didn't notice it. There was something hot wet leaking out of his mouth on my crotch - his spat or, maybe, I tore his mouth again.

Neaf sighed out delightedly.

"Come on, brother," he whispered to me. "Don't stop. I want us like this."

He pulled out and sent his cock back. A growl went out of him. It was him who was groaning, not Iver.

Neaf thrust him steadily and deliberately. He gripped Iver's hips in his tentacles, pulling him, shifting him - he shifted me this way because we were all clenched.

"Let it in his mouth," he was forcing me. "My Darren. Well," in a couple of attempts he resigned. "You don't want to. Wait then. I'll soon. Will you?"

I kept silent. I simply couldn't find any appropriate words. He moved in and out of Iver's ass, evenly, calmly, pulling Iver's body on his penis - as if he was a thing to be pulled on. A thing that vibrated under my hands, with its wet face pressed between my legs. At last Neaf froze still. Several seconds passed - in absolute silence - until he sighed heavily and settled back, taking his falling organ out of Iver.

He had ejaculated. He was done.

It was when Iver gave up. His cry was half-choked, desperately tired. It tore my nerves.

I grabbed him. I moved myself and shook and moved him, spinning him for 180 degrees. I plucked his hands clenched on my clothes without care. I didn't bother if I hurt his injuries. My motions were so rough that it made him stand on his fours almost steadily. I groped his ass-cheeks and pried them open.

The place was rent. It made me wince. I was terrified to look at this damage - but I couldn't take my eyes off of it. There was nothing normal left with his perineum. The hole in its center - where his anus had to be - was the ripped pit swelling with blood. He was bleeding savagely - there was a continuous blood stream on the floor - tracing the way I span him. His skin was torn in many places - like the splits from a bullet on glass. It was black with bruises where not torn. And it gaped.

It was not shutting - like it usually had to be, like even the most loosy openings are shutting close. It didn't contract. I could put my hand inside him without resistance.

Neaf's whitish slime was leaking out of it freely. The mixture of the liquids looked sickening. But I was not really sick. It was like I stopped seeing anything except this racked opening. And into it I directed my hot stiff shaft.

He shivered. He still felt me, for all this - and I felt only velvety grip around my cock - the walls of his rectum, warm and clammy and bloody-damp. For a moment an idea struck me that it was all the same as to fuck into an open wound. It was, of course. There was nothing that was not raw inside him.

"Fuck him, Darren," Neaf said over me. "I like seeing you like this."

And I fucked. I stopped reveling in the sensation after a couple of strokes. It was just battering itself. I slammed into him - my belly slapping on his cleft swiftly with wet sharp sound. It was so speedy - the resistance was so light that nothing limited my tempo. Iver was weeping under me - almost inaudibly. Even if he screamed I wouldn't pay attention, the most probably. Like that it was only a tiny harmonic sound - an accompaniment to what I was doing. I rammed into him furiously, almost without breath - and even then I was not going to stop.

I went rigid when I was shooting. It seemed his torn orifice gave such access for me that I've never known. I was buried deep inside him, with my balls mashed against his cleft, feeling the jets of my semen spurting out of my testicles. It was over.

And then all my strength left me. Weaker that I've ever been I felt - drained out. I was falling. I was falling down on him. He didn't have enough strength to bear my weight, of course. It was no wonder for me when he slid slowly of the floor under me - and I fall over him, with my cock still in his ragged opening. His hot bony shape under me was not still. I was.

I heard Neaf's friable laughing above me.

The End of Part 3b



Written by Ruthless

The Darloxian, Neaf, mumbled the blood off of the floor and off my body when they were done. Darren flipped me roughly onto my back and spread my arms and legs wide with his boots. He stood staring down. The look of disgusted fascination that had twisted his face as he raped my mouth was gone. The dark brooding look was back

But he left me lying posed like that and spoke with the Darloxian. The sound that came out of Neaf was exactly like the sound of a human voice.

"Humans are so little, Darren, and the arms, so limited. Can you understand? This one is not you and yet it makes me want to pull him close, to feel him and to taste him. I cannot do it with you, never to you, but to this one. It makes me closer to you somehow, even though nothing is the same and this one is not my Darren and not like you at all."

"No, I don't understand." Darren's voice, usually at ease and warm with the Darloxians, was tight and guarded.

"It makes me closer to you somehow, Darren." The alien repeated.

"I think the human is too small. He'll die from big you are." Darren said.

"No." said Neaf. "It will live and be here for you to make pleasure for yourself with."

Neaf left the cabin, and Darren sat on his high narrow bunk, the tips of his boots swinging near me. After awhile I moved, and although my captor had placed me the way he wanted me, he didn't react when I changed position. I closed my wide legs and wrapped my arms around my chest. The burning was incredible. I rocked minutely with the pain.

I did not want to live. I wanted to be killed just as quickly and as soon as possible. All I wanted was for the pain to stop, for the fear to stop. As long as I was alive the pain in my savagely brutalized body went on. And as long as I was alive, I was only as far away from the torture that my captors were inflicting on me, as their next whim to start over.

Darren left this cabin, came back again, attended to his own needs. When he was in the cabin he usually perched in his bunk and fixed his gaze on me, leaving his hands idle. I did not stay awake, but the sleep I had could have been part unconsciousness and it never took me away from the pain. The damage to my body was so bad, that even in sleep I was aware of it.

How much later it was, I don't know. It was probably five or eight hours. I lay on my side, arms wrapped protectively about myself. There was ooze coming out of the stings. Clear, smelly fluid was beading out where the swollen skin had cracked. It was weeping out of my nipple like a lactating woman's breast. The swelling had gone down but only because the fluid was leaking. The burning sensation of hot coals searing under my skin went on. I had gained a little strength. I was thinking, just a little.

If I ask the man to kill me, he won't. If I ask him please kill me, he won't do it. I shaped the words but could not dredge up the courage to say them. It was not because I was afraid of the death that I wanted to plead for, but because I was afraid of the refusal. Yet all the same, I managed to shape a word.


The effect on the terrorist was immediate. He sat up sharply and then leaned down over me. His scowling face bent in close. He was listening intently.

"Sir..." Using his name might be too familiar, that might anger him. I tried to pick my words so that they would not be offensive. "I want..." My resolve slipped away.

His dark eyebrows tilted like wings. "You want!" He spoke loudly. "What do you want? A blanket? You're cold, you shivering piece of shit? Or water? Is that what you want? Just a little drink of water to wet your broken lips?"

He paused. His mouth pressed tight for a moment. "Alright, I'll give you water. I'll give you a little drink of water, but you have to earn it."

He came down on his knees on the floor in front of me. The material of his trousers stretched taut over his legs. The bulge in his crotch was prominent. Slowly, sensually and self-consciously he drew his zipper down. His fly gaped. He undid the button. The material of his under shorts bulged out. His strong narrow hand reached down to cup the fabric and brought his penis out.

His cock was hard, of course. It was dark with the swelling, the smooth cap standing up tall in front of his belly. He displayed it to me in front of my nose. It was so fully erect that the wrinkles were gone and the skin stretched tight, the veins visible. It wasn't horrible at least, because it was familiar in its own way. It was the prick of another human, not the rape tool of a depraved alien.

I'm human, I thought. It doesn't matter to him that I'm disgusting or that I'm wounded and soiled and male. I'm human and he hasn't had contact with his own species in so long that even my presence makes him horny.

"Look at my face, Iver." He ordered.

I looked up. A smirk twisted that expressive mouth again.

"Lick me."

Awkwardly I shifted forward. I brought my lips close to the soft solid cap of his prick. I stuck out my tongue and licked.

Inside what I felt was terror, verging on hysteria. If he clawed down over me, if he flung me about and got his belly pressed against my torso, if that tall shaft got poked up inside my bum... The pain of another rape would be unendurable. He could not, he must not slide that prick into my mutilated opening. But if he wanted to, he would.

"Lick it again." His voice was slowing; it was losing the furious tension behind the tight syllables, as he savoured the sensation. I licked him again, rocking my chin towards him, lapping. I didn't stop. I played my tongue on the rounded end of his cock.

"Kiss it." He ordered.

I brought my lips together and I kissed. I kissed and tongued the head of his penis. He stayed without impatience. He didn't yank it away form me or cram it into my mouth. He sat without moving, while I nuzzled his prick weakly from the floor.

If I can get him to cum in my mouth, maybe he won't stick it up my bum, I thought.

I didn't believe that I could do it, but it was a hope where there had been no kind of hope at all. I crawled a little farther so that I could take the tip between my lips and mouthed on his prick. I kept up with the gentle lapping and kissing but added sucking as well. I could hear the terrorist breathing, deep slow breaths from the bottom of his lungs. I kissed beyond the head of his prick down his shaft.

Please don't stop me! I thought desperately. It was excruciating to drag my body upward enough so that I could service him, but inch by inch I did it, until I was up enough to lean into his crotch. By then I was beginning to take his firm, clean tasting prick into my mouth. He must have washed it scrupulously, because there was almost no flavour except that of the skin, and there was a faint basic residue of soap. His penis had some pink marks on it, like scrapes. I could not imagine what he had done to himself to inflict those, but I kissed tenderly over the little discoloration.

Darren moved. He sat back with a groan, shifting his thighs wide. He wasn't stopping me. I was already exhausted, but I didn't let my flagging strength show. I kept his dick sliding smoothly up and down to the back of my throat. For some reason, I didn't gag. Except the first horrifying time when his prick had gone into my mouth, I had never sucked cock before. I guess it didn't occur to me that I might gag, and with everything else hurting and my own desperate need to give him pleasure, no matter what, so that he wouldn't turn around and fuck me, I felt no repugnance for what I was doing.

His hand rose up once and pawed briefly, lightly at my head before it dropped down. I took that as a cue that he wanted more sensation and I tightened my lips and bobbed my head more swiftly. Don't stop me. Oh, Pantheon, don't stop me. I thought. He allowed me to go on.

I was taking his cock almost all the way now. I had rolled over so that I was on my belly, propped up with one arm. I didn't know that I could take him farther if I stretched my neck straight out, so his cock was being stopped by the back of my mouth and I could not bring a hand up to help myself out. All the same the stroke was gliding swiftly and Darren was beginning to pant.

It was his arousal that gave me the strength to go on. As long as I was getting the response that the feel of my tongue and lips were keeping him interested, I endured the effort that it took my weak and battered body.

"Fuckin' little cock sucker." He moaned. "You fuckin' little cock sucker. You like this. You're greedy for this."

I would have answered yes if I could have without stopping. I did answered yes by forcing my nose down as close to his pubic hair as it would go. I drove swiftly although dizziness was rising in me, threatening to make me pass out.

"Iver, you dirty primate." He was writhing. He wanted more. I had nothing more to give. "Oh you fucking, disgusting bastard." Darren groaned. "Eat that cock. Fuckin' choke yourself on it!"

And then I felt him spasm. His hands clawed on my bare shoulders and somehow that was enough more sensation for him. I barely felt the peels of skin he raked down. I felt the throb in his turgid organ. The man's whole body shook. His cum surged in my mouth. I held onto him, as deep as I could, tongue thrusting rhythmically under his prick to make his orgasm as good as I could, while my mouth filled with slime and bitterness.

After wards I licked it up. Delicately I used my tongue to take the white blobs from the rosy tip of his cock, and a glistening smear of the salt mucus from his ridged shaft. I even laid my face down on the floor and licked up the three white globs that had dripped to the smooth ground between his knees.

He watched me licking it up while he was there recovering for a few moments. I couldn't tell if I had pleased him or not. "Shit..." he muttered softly. I lay still, waiting for his verdict, waiting to see if I had assuaged any of his venom, while he tucked himself back in to his pants.

He got up on his knees looming above me and then the jeering cadence in his voice was back. 'I'll bet you're pretty fuckin' thirsty, giving me a performance like that. Aren't you, human?"

He stood. "Well, aren't you? Tell me."

"Yes, I'm thirsty." I spoke softly. I said the words because I was told to. I didn't expect him to fill the bargain he had made and although my saliva was ropy with thirst and my body craved water, I didn't especially want to drink. I was not thinking of tending myself, or of getting better. I only wanted to escape the pain. Thirst was less important than that.

He moved away. He came back with a plastic cup. I looked up at the cup and at his saturnine face, trying to gauge its emotion. Once more it was guarded, with something evil looming in the slight crease between his brows.

"If you're thirsty." He said, "Beg for it."

"Please." I said. My voice came out clear. I did not really know what I was begging for. "Please, Sir."

His handsome curving mouth suddenly quivered. He lifted his foot. The hard sole of his boot came down on my face precisely. He placed his foot over my mouth, not putting even nearly his full weight down, but only enough pressure that it crushed my lips against my teeth. He could, I knew, transfer his weight and if he stood on me, it would break my jaw. But all he did was place it there so that he could see my frightened eyes staring up at him around his boot.

"What should I do with you, Iver?" He asked. "Hurlock wants to play with you. He asked me, give me the human to play with and let it die while I'm playing with it. That's what he'd like. And Neaf says keep you, hang onto you so I have a fuck toy to get my rocks off into. Keep you! You're far too much of a pain to look after. If I let you stay alive you'll have to have food and water."

He took his boot off of my face.

"You think I need a space-whore? You were supposed to end up with the other passengers. I hate having you on this ship."

He paused. "Thirsty?" He said consideringly. "Okay, you earned it."

He tilted the cup. It was water. It splashed on the lower half of my face, the clear steam trickling slowly and steadily. I tasted it involuntarily and understood and opened my mouth. It drummed down as I gasped. I did try to catch it, as much as I could, and because Darren poured slowly I caught probably half of it. He didn't want to crouch down and get close to me, but he gave me the water any way.

"There." He said softly. "Water for the dirty human space-whore."

When the cup was empty he stopped pouring. The water had flooded the tissue of my mouth, rehydrating the dry membranes. Until I had it and was swallowing it, I had had no idea how much I had wanted it. It was kind. The water in my gasping mouth was kind.

Darren smiled. It was a false smile, but not a cruel smile. It was the kind of polite smile that a stranger gives you when you are forced to meet eyes. He put it on his face deliberately as he looked down on me and his smile resembled acknowledgement. It was like the kindness of the water. I almost moaned it was such a relief to have him relent from the cruelty.

"Thank you." I said. "Thank you, Sir, Darren.

His gaze traveled down the length of my nude battered body and the smile left. The crease of disgust came back.

"Now I suppose you want me to give you some food, I suppose." he said. Belligerence had crept into his voice. The instant of mercy was brief.

"No." I said. "No, please. It's okay." The truth was too, that I doubt I could have eaten the food. That was one thing my body did not want. The pain had exhausted me so much that I was too weary to want to eat.

He sounded tired. "You don't deserve to eat." He said. "You aren't worth feeding. If I feed you, it'll because you earned it. You haven't earned it yet."

"Yes, Sir." I agreed with him.

"You think you deserve it? You think food is nothing, you got the right, a few slices of roast chenie-bird, with stuffing and gravy and ripe round hebbiens covered in butter, that's your right, that's nothing?"

I didn't understand at all. I didn't answer him. I couldn't tell what answer he was looking for or what he wanted.

But Darren didn't get angry at my silence. He sat back down on his bunk and his voice was absent and thick with pain. "Yeah, a good dinner, food in your belly, you think you deserve that, I should give it to you? You can have it free?"

I didn't understand what he was talking about. I just listened. When he went on, his words had wandered even farther away. I got the impression that he wasn't only talking to me, but talking out loud in spite of me although the words were shaped and directed at me.

"I used to have a sister - once." Darren told me. "She was eight and I was twelve. One day there just wasn't anything left to eat. No food at all." His eyes were black and blank. He tilted his head sideways. He had an earring and it dangled above his collar. "She was starving to death and she got a pot belly. Isn't that weird? She was dying of hunger and she got fat. But her ribs got all visible and her arms and legs were bony before she died."

His eyes came back into focus again and he looked at me. "She didn't get any food. How can you possibly think that you deserve to get any?" He asked. He didn't wait for me to answer his question. Instead he reached down and picked up the top blanket that was bunched at the foot of his bunk. He tossed this down on top of me. It draped over me from the ribs to my feet.

"Don't you dare ask me for mercy. You don't deserve anything from me at all." Said Darren. "From now until you die, you're nothing more than a cunt. Yeah, all you are is filthy hole for me to fuck, you shit dribbling sewer of a space -whore."

He laid himself down on his bunk with his back to me and composed himself for sleep.

The End of Part 4a



Written by Juxian Tang

It was so strange to wake up in the room with somebody else. Iver was breathing almost noiselessly - and still I felt him at once. I glanced at him - his eyes were shut with flickering eyelids. This way - covered with the blanket - he practically looked simply as if he was sick: his face was only a little bruised and of wax transparence. His thin fingers were clenched protectively on the blanket under his chin.

I shifted and he stared at me at once - with his eyes so huge and dark that it made his face seem weird. I thought that now I almost didn't see the real brown color of his irises - so much black they were.

I felt tired. I was getting tired more and more - as if I didn't have these hours of sleep.

"Well, Iver," slowly I seesawed my feet over the floor and stood up. "What shall I do to you now? Shall I let you stay in here? Or take you back to your apartments?"

He watched me carefully as I approached him.

"Whatever you want, sir... Darren..." his new manner calling me "sir" - it made me sick. He didn't move when my toes pressed into his side.

"Yeah?" I looked down at him. "Really? Is it all the same for you? Dumb pussy! Is it all the same if you are here with me and nobody can touch you - unless I allow him to, of course - or if I leave you alone in the storage hold - it will be just to write "fair game" on your stupid forehead. I won't be surprised if Hurluck already winces in impatience on the threshold waiting for you to be dismissed."

His face was colorless. When he parted his lips to speak I interrupted him.

"I see. Your sloppy hole misses Hurluck, huh?"

"No," there was not much life in his voice. "No, sir. Please, let me stay here."

Locking my eyes with his I kneeled down. He stood my gaze. He knew I wanted it - and he was learning quickly.

"So, you prefer to be with me?" I put my palm across his face limply. He was not so feverish today.

"Yes, Darren," he said hastily, trying to cover with swiftness the lack of emotions. "I like to be here," he added softly.

I bet you do - I didn't say it. I said:

"Feel a little better today?"

"Yes, Darren," he repeated.

Then the blanket slid down from his chest. And when I saw it, everything was back. Not at all he looked as an ill man any more! I looked at him - feeling absolutely dizzy - and still unable to tear my eyes off of him. It was the point - I didn't want to look at him - and I couldn't stop.

He noticed my glare and instinctively tried to cover himself back. Too late. I yanked the blanket aside. Iver lay on his back and on his side partly, with his knees raised up and his arms crossed on his chest. And under my stare he slowly uncovered himself, stretching flat and spreading his hands on his sides. He was completely motionless - the only thing I saw was the slightest vibration on his tensed muscles. His toes were stretched down unconsciously.

"Oh, Iver," I muttered wearily, searching his body with my eyes. "You are ugly. You are so ugly. Do you know it?"

"Yes," he whispered back. "I know."

"This is ugly," I pointed to his trickling nipple. "And this is ugly," now his bruises were of dark purple color. "And this makes me throw up," I touched his swollen testicles making him shiver.

The sensation of his smooth skin pulsing under my fingers was so dazzling. I didn't want to feel it any more.

"Flip over to your stomach," I ordered.

I saw Iver's face quivering. If he was pale before it - now he looked ghostly. He moved his lips - as if he was going to speak to me. And then there were two flows of tears running freely from his eyes. He didn't even make a sob - just started crying like this - silently.

It was so bad. So bad - almost unbearable. I moved fleetly. The back of my hand landed on his cheek with a loud slap. I saw him flinching. He looked frightened - and guilty - and he still cried. I slapped him again, causing a little blood on his lips.

"What, you filthy shit? What happened? Do you dare to disobey me?"

"Darren..." he started. I slapped his lips - as parents punish their children for speaking foul language. I didn't want to hear my name from this whore's mouth. I didn't want to hear anything.

I backhanded him again and again, changing my hand when is was getting tired. His lips were bleeding copiously now. He moaned a couple of times - very shortly. The most time his head just tossed from side to side with my blows.

I stopped because my hands were hurt, not because he was passing out. His face was bright pink and so very hot when I gripped his cheek-bones. His agate eyes, still wet, looked at me mesmerizing quietly.

I squeezed his face like in pliers, closing my own face to him.

"You know what I'll do with such a nasty bitch as you?" I asked. His lashes fluttered - no answer. "You are of no use - but I can take you to the crew quarters again, for the morning fuck of my friends."

I didn't wait for reaction. I flung him around on his belly, yanking him by his face and his shoulder. I felt my fingers getting wet - he had scratches on his shoulders and they bleed when I touched them.

I took the rope and twisted it around his wrists. There were the whole raw stripes there, left from the previous fastening. I wondered if the rope would sting in them.

Another bit of rope I used to tie his ankles. I spoke again:

"I have some business right now, you brothel litter. And the thing is that I want to watch while my friends will fuck you. I want to watch every their mighty thrust into your greedy hole. I'll be back - and then we shall go."

He lay face down, as I made him, without motion. I grasped his hair and pulled his head back almost as far as it went without breaking his neck.

"I'll be soon, shitty cunt," I whispered into his ear.

It was about half past eleven when I entered Neaf's cabin. He was sitting in his arm-chair with an album of 3-D landscapes on his lap. Darloc was quite a grim planet - as far as I remembered - but - as far as I remembered again - Neaf was one of very few Darloxians who liked to surround himself with colorful things. Almost every inch of the walls in his room was covered with pictures. From here and there my own face looked at me on different stages of my life.

There were some other photos of me, taken nine years ago, which I knew Neaf had - but they were nowhere on the walls and he didn't show them to anyone; only once he had shown them to me.

"Well, your notion about "in the morning" is quite original," putting the album aside he looked at me; his long slit mouth was half-crooked sarcastically.

For a moment I felt a little uneasy; walking along the corridor I had thought about how I would meet him - and now I just swallowed hurriedly and said:

"Stormy night, you see."

He smiled back. I sat down on my own chair here and set my boots on the table. I saw him pulling the album carefully farther from my soles.

"I supposed Wagr should participate in our conversation," he stated.

"Okay..." I thought a little. "Why not?"

I watched him when he pressed the button and called.

"I bet they were speaking Darloxian," he complained to me softly. "Never speak English when I am away - and even if I am here they try."

I giggled. It was no more than a minute passed until we heard slapping steps in the corridor. Wagr's tentacle reached from behind when I still didn't see him and put a cup on the table in front of me.

"Hi Chthri," he patted my shoulder. "It's for you."

"Rather nice," I agreed.

"So," Neaf was concentrated again. "What's the matter?"

"It blew up," I said.

They listened to me quietly while I told them everything. At last Neaf broke in.

"I've caught a transfer today," he explained. "Transtellar Company sucked. Their shares dropped twice. And they are going to be prosecuted for not providing the safety of the flight and choosing wrong policy of negotiations."

"And SSC?"

"Superstellar Company increased their sales for 30 per cent."


"No," Neaf shook his head. "Tomorrow is the day of mourning in the Empire."

I pressed my lips tight. Wagr slowly swung his head from side to side:

"The humans. We, people of Darloc, never do anything like that."

Oh, sure, suddenly I thought at myself grimly, you don't. You don't at all.

"And what do they say about Darren Grey?"

"The award is 5 000 credits either for alive or for dead," Neaf winked to me. Not very jovially.

"I go up," I noticed. "Last time it was only 1 500."

"Last time there were no fifteen corpses dispelled."

"Fourteen," I corrected him mechanically.

"Fifteen, they said."

Maybe, they were right.

"Well," Wagr interfered. "And what's now? It is dangerous for you to appear in the borders of the Empire, right, Chthri-Darren?"

"At least until something else happens, enough outrageous to wash my face out of everybody's mind," I answered. But will it? Fuckin' SSC. They owed me. They owed me too much. Fourteen people to write on my account. Well, it was not that I kept accounts. And it could be said disputable if these fourteen were really mine. But it was not me to dispute here. Because I killed them - word perfect. The same as I was killing Iver now.

"And even then," Neaf added. "You will hardly be able to try another hijack."

"Why?" Wagr looked flabbergasted.

"Because," I spoke easily, "do you know what they will do if Darren Grey captures another launch of hostages? They will send Alfa to annihilate the space sector all over - and a couple of others in immediate proximity. Why to bother about the negotiations if Darren Grey doesn't fulfill his part anyway? Why to try to release the hostages if they are doomed?"

"Hmm," Wagr said.

"Well, enough of it," giving me a sidelong look Neaf changed the topic. Delicate as always. "The autodoc. We have it - and I took off from the "mailbox station" the message from the outsiders. They can be contacted for twenty more hours."

"They are contented with the price?" Wagr quickly became optimistic.

"Yes," Neaf said.

"Yes," I agreed coldly. "If the autodoc is in order."

"You are true, brother," Neaf spread his tentacles - as if telling the inevitable. "We didn't discuss with them taking a tampered thing. For the outsiders to get a surgeon-programmer is even more complicated than for us."

The outsiders. The mutants, some called them. They were not a race. They were the trash of almost every existing race of the Interstellar Empire. At least, where there were the quotas for deviations implemented. And those who were beyond the quotas didn't have any chances. No medical help. No surgical corrections. Except one - that deprived them the possibility to reproduce. As if it could stop the increase of their numbers.

I didn't like the outsiders. Well, nobody liked them. And there was no "non-deviated" species they liked either.

I felt bad. The conversation - though I knew how important it was - I hardly stood it. I wanted to leave. To go back to my room, lock the door again and not to see anyone.

And, maybe, to have my dose. I must not do it, I knew. It was too soon. I knew I should keep myself away.

Besides, there was Iver in my room. The thought about seeing him again was suddenly intolerable. I didn't want him any more. Not in any way. I just didn't. I wanted to be alone.

I shuddered coming round. Neaf and Wagr both looked at me, repeating for whatever time:

"We have to check it before contacting..."

"All right," I said quietly. "We will."

"I wonder," Neaf looked at me, "if you have the same idea as I do."

"What idea?" Wagr darted his eyes from me to Neaf and back. I waved my hand a little.

"And what another idea can we have?"

Neaf was settling back in his arm-chair. His tentacles flew in the air in front of his face - as if veiling it.

"I thought you could have wanted to save this particular human."

I clasped my hands under my chin.

"There is nothing left to save in this particular human," I said.

"I believe it was what Chthri-Darren took it for," Wagr added. "Right, Chthri?"

"Smart you are," absent-mindedly I stroked his tentacle.

"And if it dies?" Neaf asked.

"Then the autodoc is tampered," I replied.

"I hope it works,' Wagr pressed his tentacles together in a copy of praying gesture. "A couple of thousand credits would serve us right."

I felt so sick that I had to swallow quickly. I didn't know if I wanted the autodoc to work. That was the point. I didn't know.

"And we have to do it soonest," Neaf added efficiently. "If we are going to contact the outsiders until they are in reach."

"Right," Wagr stood up. "I'll see the thing to be prepared."

It was not better when he left. I thought it would - but it was not. I felt Neaf's limbs winding round my ankles in firm tender grips.

"All is going well, my Darren," he whispered. "Don't fret your mind. We will get out of it, believe me."

"Sure," I cut him short, yanking my legs down. He made a sharp hiss - I hurt his tentacles slightly. And I hurt myself.

"You'll bring the human," in business-like voice said Neaf.

Whether he dies or lives, I thought going along the corridor. No matter. Whether he dies or lives.

It was when I was very close when I noticed the door of my room opened. My heart sank while my steps became faster. I knew what I would see.

Iver had left.

The End of Part 4b

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