NOTE: This and all preceding and subsequent chapters are copyright 1993 by Milford Ray Slabaugh. All rights reserved. Permission is hereby granted to post this story to other BBS'es, provided it bears this language. Permission to post to Star*Chat denied.
PLANET OF DESIRE
Chapter 23
"I Have Executed a Traitor"
[AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm going to stop the heavy "accenting" of Pvt. "Alabama" Gorman's language. You got the picture by now, I'm sure.]
Captain Swenson had a surprise for Ivan, and Ivan grinned with pleasure when he saw it. It was a Space Scout uniform. The badge of his rank was handmade but well-made, and Ivan was quick to strip and put it on. The zipper went up and Ivan felt strangely at home and misty-eyed.
"I'm glad to offer this little gift for your service with the Marines, Captain." Vid said.
"It's wonderful to be dressed again. But where?"
"Salvage from a crashed ship. They do come in from time to time, you know. This one was about the same time as yours, from what I can gather, and came in via, uh, the patrols."
"Oh." Ivan worried. Did some fellow Scout of his suffer the ignominy of the rape gangs?
"Also, we'll provide all of you with proper equipment. You four may journey to the Temple, and I'll send Martin with any other volunteers later on. I'm presuming, Captain Paskov, that you're in a bit of a hurry to leave us."
"Thank you, sir." Ivan saluted again.
It wasn't that quickly settled, but by the end of the day, the four men were on their way across the rebuilt bridge and into the jungle, furnished roughly the same as the other expeditions. David was going with them, but leading a separate group that wasn't quite organized. David had urged him to forge ahead. "We'll catch up in no time, you'll see." he had said confidently.
Ivan felt odd carrying a rifle; a Scout was to watch and report back, never to fight. Other than that, he was back in service and back in form.
A short distance from the base and he called for a stop. "Andrew?"
"Yes, Ivan?"
"It occurs to me that we aren't giving ourselves some proper exercise."
"I thought you were enjoying your new clothes too much to think of that." Andrew smirked. He reached up and unzipped Ivan's suit as Ivan shrugged off his pack.
"Can we join you, sir?" Gorman said. He had his cock out already, and its red and engorged state showed he had been flogging it for a while.
"That's a really mean monster you got there, Private." Ivan said. Andrew was kissing his way down his chest, his moist tongue weaving a warm path as it did.
"Your's isn't so bad yourself, you know."
Jablonski chipped in. "Actually, I was noticing how much alike they are."
"Really?" Ivan said. Andrew had taken out his cock and moistening the tip, and it was agony to detach the juicy mouth from his penis, but Ivan was curious. "I never noticed. Gorman, let's do some measuring."
Gorman stepped in close and Ivan laid his cock on top of Gorman's, pushed in his ass so that his cock butted Gorman's abdomen. Gorman's cock nestled into his ballsac with the same move.
"Hm. Pretty close in length, anyway." Ivan tried it again by stepping in closely to Gorman, adjusting his stance so that their balls were intermeshed, and the cocks held tightly together in his hands. "You're right, Jablonski." Ivan said. "They seem to be a matched pair." Same length, same girth, same general configuration down to the very foreskin. The thought turned him on considerably.
Jablonski and Andrew were taking care of each other's hard-ons, turned on by this display.
"So, sir, if I was to suck your cock, I could tell how it is when someone sucks mine?" Gorman seemed to have the same intense interest in the matching.
"Sounds about right." Ivan said. "Let's try it out."
"What about us?" Andrew said plaintively. Ivan cast a quick glance, but Andrew was smiling widely; he wasn't serious.
"I'm sure your buddy wouldn't mind helping you out on that." Ivan said. "Right now, I want to see what it's like to suck on my own cock. As much as anyone can do that."
Ivan lay back on the jungle floor and Gorman was quick to scoot into position beside him. Ivan looked at Gorman's cock with a new eye.
It really was a big cock, and Ivan felt a new respect for Andrew and the others who could take such a monster into themselves so easily. Ivan had taken this schlong into his butt on a few occasions (at Gorman's insistence), but never had he faced the prospect of giving it a blow-job.
Gorman was nibbling at his cock with the same trepidation. Ivan got an idea, and matched Gorman's actions nibble for nibble.
Gorman groaned and Ivan felt his cock engulfed in Gorman's mouth. He hastily milked his saliva glands for lubrication and matched Gorman's thrust.
Gorman seemed to be trying to take the entire cock down his throat, and Ivan felt his cockhead squeezed by the throat muscles as Gorman rammed it ever deeper. Ivan was hard-put to keep up; his entire mouth was filled with cock, but he persevered, taking Gorman's cock ever deeper.
Gorman reached the base of Ivan's cock at last, and Ivan made a desperate hunch to match it, feeling Gorman's balls come to a slapping rest on his chin. All the way down each other's throats now, they were holding their cocks all the way down each other.
It was like deep-throating yourself, Ivan found. The sensations were identical and overlapped in his brain, to suck on the big private's big cock and feel it duplicated on your own organ.
Andrew's groans were right above and behind Ivan. "Oh, God, Ivan, that's so hot, you suck a big cock so well, man, uh, uh, ugh!" And Andrew's load sprayed over them.
"Yeah, Andy, cover them with your come!" Jablonski urged. "Keep flogging my cock, I'm about to come and I want to shoot it on those two myself. Keep flogging!"
Andrew panted for a time, then said in gasps, "Come on, Paul, shoot it on them, shoot it, man, spray your come on top of my lover. Spray him good."
Jablonski grunted and Ivan felt more hot splashes inundate him.
Gorman was hunching faster on Ivan and Ivan matched him thrust for thrust, finding it a very effective combination on his cock and determined to give Gorman as good as he got.
Gorman's cock heated in his mouth, a fierce heat that Ivan knew orgasm was imminent. His desire to keep their lovemaking on a duplicate keel seemed to extend to his subconscious, for as Gorman began to groan, Ivan found his own orgasm mounting in his brain and his own grunts squeezed past the huge schlong imbedded in his throat. As Gorman let fly, Ivan sent his own load into Gorman's throat. They bucked and thrashed in a unity of motion, for their brains had been tricked and confused into considering the two bodies a single unit, and was cooperating even in ecstasy.
Done, Ivan milked at Gorman's cock for the final drops, and Gorman sleepily reciprocated. Ivan found himself reluctant to let go of this cock that seemed to be a part of himself. But Andrew's voice was reminding him of Andrew's existence; a presence he didn't want to ignore.
He lifted up on one elbow and said, "Andy, how about giving me a hand up?"
"Too weak to move?" Andrew grinned and extended a hand.
Just as Ivan took the hand, there was the smell of ozone and a blast of laser light chopped through Andrew's body, cutting him in two. To his intense horror and disbelief, Ivan found himself blood-sprayed by Andrew's death, and Andrew came to rest partly on top of him, his eyes glazed over and unseeing.
"Andrew!" Ivan screamed and crawled/hunched/squirmed from beneath him. He got to his knees and looked down at Andrew's face, oblivious to anything else.
In the movies, there is always a bit of life left in times like these, a chance to say farewell. But reality has never considered last words important enough to spare its impetus. Ivan had no chance to say goodbye to Andrew, no chance to hear any words of love from Andrew's lips. That quickly, that simply, that horribly, Andrew was gone, stolen from him forever, leaving only a bloody husk behind.
Ivan looked up from his dead lover to see who had done this horrendous deed, determined to make them pay regardless of the cost to himself.
"I have just executed a traitor." was the first words from the killer's lips.
It was the Colonel. Very much alive and well, holding a laser pointed at Ivan's face.
And behind him was Lieutenant McElby and several other Marines. The deserters, the gang-rapers. Led by the Mad Colonel.
Ivan's rifle was behind him and it was foolish for him to think of reaching for it. But Ivan was no military man despite his term of service; Scouts see little direct military action. They are always ahead of the fleets; they may get shot at, but always respond by running. Ivan had no training in how to respond. He only knew that he wanted to kill the man who had killed Andrew.
Just before Ivan, who had gathered his body to spring for the rifle, could move, more laser shots rang around them.
Ivan threw himself to the ground (his training included this, at any rate) but the shots were not aimed his way. They cut down the Colonel and the renegade Marines; who were caught from the side. Some tried to pivot, but lasers are brutally fast in their killing. Only one who has hidden ahead of time has any chance to avoid them, and these Marines were clumped together. They fell like rows of wheat beneath a scythe.
When all was quiet again, Ivan, who had gotten his rifle, dared to raise his head to see what had happened.
The renegades were all dead, their bodies a bloody mass of confused and intermixed body parts. The Colonel lay a short distance ahead of them, nearer to Ivan. Like Andrew, he had been chopped neatly in two. A laser's favorite way of killing.
There was a tramping from the bushes, and their rescuers came into sight. It was David, leading the other volunteers for their mission.
Ivan remembered his duties. "Jablonski? Gorman?"
"Here, sir." Jablonski said.
"I'm fine, sir." Gorman said.
"I guess he only wanted Andrew." Ivan said. He looked down at Andrew's body, and his mind felt oddly numb. There was no feeling at all. "I don't know Marine protocol. Should we bury them here?"
"We should take Andrew back to the base for a proper funeral." David said, and there was sympathetic pain in his eyes. Ivan looked at him like a picture in an album, of someone you knew long ago. "He deserves that."
"Yes, you're right." Ivan said. He looked from David back down to Andrew, at the blank eyes and the still form. He moved Andrew's legs and abdomen, to match it to the chest and upper body, like matching the pieces of a puzzle. As if that would make everything all right again. When a toy broke, you put it together again, and it would go. But people aren't toys.
Still, Ivan found himself trying it. Angry when it didn't work, when Andrew didn't get up again.
When the mind blocks emotion, any emotion, once expressed, breaks free the others. And anger is an emotion. It broke the floodgate, and Ivan felt the tears began. He leaned over, rested his cheek on Andrew's chest, and cried like he hadn't since his childhood.
END OF CHAPTER 23
TO BE CONTINUED