The whole thing really wasn’t his fault! James Matson 12B3 (that final part was a sort of social/financial/security rating unimportant to this story; think of it as the future version of “Mister” and you’ll be close enough) was simply on his way home from Ritan-6, a wonderful little vacation planet without a doubt and like any returning vacationer, was simply rather tired. This was why he hadn’t checked his hypercar over when he started the drive back to New Topeka, the capital city of New Kansas and his rather boring job as a...oh, there’s that 12B3 thing again, never mind, call him an office grunt and leave it at that! If he hadn’t been so worn out from a very marvelous time on a very marvelous vacation planet, he would most certainly have replenished his supply of fuel before starting out, though even then he wouldn’t have noticed that his hyperphone had become non-functional, its warranty having expired only a week ago. Some things never change no matter how long the human race kicks around the Galaxy.
So what happened to him next was about what would happen to you in the same circumstances, the “low-fuel” signal went on his dashboard and he reached for his hyperphone, tried to use it, couldn’t get it to turn on, and said the future equivalent of “God damn it!” and started looking for a good place to pull over. The low-fuel signal meant more than having a hypercar no longer moving, it would also mean that he would soon have no oxygen and no heating to fend off the severe cold of space between the stars; he needed an oxygen-bearing world with sufficient warmth to keep him alive until he could get help.
There, a small world, just ahead and slightly to the left-and-up. He could make it there with room to spare. The read-out said a reasonably pleasant atmosphere and temperature. Only reason mankind must have passed it over is that it was so small, a gravity of only 0.23 G. Some day, someone would buy the place, install gravity units, and begin building super-condos on it, or something.
Oh, well, it would keep him alive until he could get help. He had to depend upon his distress beacon and a passing vehicle willing to pull over to help or willing to call someone for him (the interstellar equivalent of having emergency lights flashing by the highway rather than becoming a castaway on a desert island.) There were a couple of bags of snacks on the other seat of his car; he figured he was in for a boring but secure wait until a passing police vehicle caught his beacon and came down to save him.
Once down, no reason to sit inside. Had this planet anything dangerous to humans on it, the scan he’d done would have warned him away from it. Might as well see if there was a view worth looking at while he sat on his kiester and crunched Martian Munchies.
Nice planet. The low gravity was first a hindrance, then became interesting. He started lobbing the nuggets of his snack up into the air and catching it on its rather leisurely pace down.
The third such nugget, though, suddenly did a rapid sideways jerk and James looked down, saw it disappear into the surprising large mouth on a surprisingly small, furry critter. About the size of an Earth chipmunk (as opposed to the chipmunks of Fractal 7, which are twelve feet tall, have poisonous rows of teeth much like a shark, and tails with very large knobs at the end with spikes that...come to think of it, I wonder what moron decided to name them “chipmunks” to begin with?), the little furry thing chewed with a rapid circular motion, his eyes were round and liquid and friendly, and when he swallowed, gave an undeniable smile, showing teeth that were definitely not like a shark.
“Well, hello there.” James said, smiling down.
“Blee-ee-eep!” the little thing said and rose up on its hind legs, forelegs in an undeniable begging posture, paws together side-by-side.
James tossed it another Martian Munchie its way and it caught it with a cute, weaving motion, chewed, swallowed, and then hopped up into James’ lap. James petted its head and it gave a happy rub back into his palm that said it loved to be petted. When James ran his hand down its back, the creature moved like a cat would when petted by a loving owner. It then lay down in his lap, curled much like a cat, and murbled out a warbling sound James equated to its purr.
“Looks like you’ve adopted me.” he said. “Guess I’ll take you home with me. What could possibly go wrong?”
And to prove how much his luck had changed, a police car appeared overhead. James looked his new pet on his lap and said, “I think I’ll name you Lucky.”
James got back into his hypercar, Lucky under one arm, and the police cruiser pulled him up and towed him back to New Kansas.
Back at his apartment (actually a modular living unit he could move about as he chose and within certain limits...that 12B3 thing again), James fixed up a small bed and put out water and food for Lucky. The little creature beeped happily at him and James, weary and a bit hungover, took a quick shower to clean up and crawled into bed.
As he figured, Lucky was at his bed in no time, nuzzling at his neck. He scratched the head fondly, and said, “Okay, you can sleep with me, but settle down, will ya? I got to get back to work in the morning.”
Lucky snuggled under his armpit and James figured that was going to be his bed. When Lucky moved from head in his pit to the butt, well, that was all part of owning a pet. Sometimes it meant you slept with a butt in your face. Then Lucky burrowed under the covers, and James let it. Why not? He’d owned a cat when he was a young teenager and the cat had slept under there.
Lucky ended up down at his crotch, the foreclaws touched on his briefs. Lucky stopped at that point for some considerable time and James didn’t know what Lucky did next, because he fell asleep about that point.
The next morning, though, he felt something funny down there. Not unpleasant, just...funny. “Lucky? Is that you?” he asked of the furry feeling he had in his crotch. Had the plucky little critter crawled inside his briefs somehow? Possible but not very probable.
He reached down and felt. Lucky was there all right, lying between his legs. His briefs...they were gone, torn open somehow so that he was lying on the rags of it. He felt a bit more. Lucky had his cock in its mouth! No teeth sunk it or nothing, but when he tugged at Lucky’s head to extract it, nothing moved. He wriggled himself to make his cock move in Lucky’s mouth, and found that the mouth was sort of glued to his dong!
“Shit!” James said, sitting upright. “Lucky, what the fuck are you doing to me?” He turned on the light and looked down into trusting, liquid brown eyes. That mouth looked form-fitted to his prod. “Come on, little fellow, you need to turn loose of Daddy James’ family trophy....” And that was as far as he got.
A sudden thrill of sexual delight raced through his body! James gasped and moaned, the intensity of it was so sudden and so complete. His prong, only semi-flaccid, surged to full tumesence.
Lucky was making his “purring” sound again, kind of a soft “beeble-beeble-beeble-beeble” over and over again.
“Oh, God, oh, God!” James moaned. What had he gotten himself into here? He had adopted an alien creature as a pet and now it had seemingly permanently attached itself to his cock and now it was...it was...oh, God, that felt so GOO-OO-OO-OO-OOD!
James moaned, panted heavily. “Lucky,” he gasped. “I hope you...know what you’re...doing here! UH-UH-HUH-HUHHHH!” And he blasted a hot, heavy load right into Lucky’s gullet! Lucky beepled happily as he took the entire package of James’ balls without a quiver. Done, Lucky gave an undeniable sigh of happiness and snuggled down, ready to milk James again as soon as James was ready from all appearances.
Well, that wasn’t going to happen! James promptly made two phone calls in rapid succession, the first to his work to explain that he was ill and couldn’t come in (otherwise he would go soon from a 12B3 to a 12B6, with the drop in all perquisites that would entail for him), and the second to a xeno-veterinarian. That is, a veterinarian who specialized in treating all the little animals that humans were bringing to New Kansas from other worlds. James wasn’t supposed to bring an animal from an unknown world, there were rules about that sort of thing. But with Lucky now stuck on his cock and dangling from it with him standing up (an uncomfortable thing to have hanging there!), James was ready to explain and just hope the vet didn’t report him.
As you can imagine (“Hey, doc, I have an alien chipmunk hanging on my dick!”), James got an appointment that very morning. That left the problem of how to get there. Lucky appeared to be asleep just at this moment, the eyes closed. James pulled out the baggiest pair of trousers he had and cupped Lucky into the crotch there. Dressed as best he could and, with Lucky making it appeared that he was grotesquely endowed, he set out for the vet’s shop.
Halfway there on the subway train (that’s as close a term as we can get to this multi-people mover without tedious explanation), James found that Lucky was stirring. To his horror, he found that Lucky was again stimulating his pud. Here? Among all these people? What else could he do but grit his teeth, try to act normal while Lucky sent his prong into another round of sexual ecstasy. He gulped hard, kept his moans to low mumbles, and at climax, he gave out a sort of “Wheeeeeee!” sound as his only expression of the bliss his brain was being blasted by. Done, he panted as quietly as he could. A woman across from him looked at him with eyes that said she knew just what had happened to him, but she kept quiet and got up and found another seat. James gasped for air and prayed that he could make it to the vet’s before Lucky got hungry again!
He did make it to the vet’s, but Lucky got busy again with him in the waiting room as soon as he sat down to wait. The receptionist called his name promptly enough, a couple minutes later, but James couldn’t move, he was too busy in pre-climactic dizziness.
“Mr. Matson, are you all right?” the receptionist asked as James moaned.
“Yeah! Uh, uh! One moment!” James gasped, as his hands clutched the armrests desperately. Inside his pants, Lucky was giving out his happy-purr, an audible noise from James’ crotch. Which was bulging out alarmingly now. Was Lucky getting fatter?
“Sir, Dr. Clarkson is waiting.” the receptionist said firmly.
“I know! Oh, oh, OH, OUGH, UHH-GUUHH-HUHHH-NNNNN-GGGGHH!”
The receptionist stepped back, blinked. “Sir, shouldn’t you be seen by a regular doctor?”
“No, no, let me get in to see Dr. Clarkson.” James said, staggered to his feet, breathing like an asthmatic hundred-and-eighty-year-old man. He felt 180 right now. Maybe even 200. “Oh, God, oh, uh, uh!”
“This way, sir.” the receptionist led him to the door, and fled ignominiously.
Dr. Clarkson turned out to be a rather handsome young man, blond-haired, studly and well-muscled. “All right, you explained on the phone. So if you’ll undo your pants so I can see this specimen you so rashly picked up on an unknown planet and brought here.”
“Sure.” James gulped hard (Jesus, these climaxes were getting longer and more intense every time. His balls felt horribly, horribly empty, but they still poured a lavish load into Lucky every time the little alien chipmunk decided to make James shoot another one.
James had just begun to unzip (another word that was no longer totally accurate, but “demagnetization” is so multi-syllabic) his fly when it happened. A sudden burst that was more frightening than anything else.
But it turned James’ pants and part of his shirt into so many rags (that explained what happened to his briefs, doesn’t it?), and Lucky was revealed in all his glory. His very pregnant-looking glory.
“Dear God!” Dr. Clarkson breathed.
“Can you pull it off me?” he asked the xeno-vet. “Without hurting it?” Despite the ignominy of the experience, he couldn’t manage to hate the little furry alien.
“I don’t know.” Dr. Clarkson admitted. “This is unprecedented in my experience.”
“Well, can you try to pull it off of me?” James whined.
“Let me see what I can do.” Dr. Clarkson walked over to near them.
Lucky’s eyes opened and swivelled to look at Dr. Clarkson.
Another burst and Dr. Clarkson’s own clothes were assaulted by (James could see it from this angle) an outpouring of some yellowish liquid. What it touched, melted and left Dr. Clarkson’s body exposed from chest down to his knees, an oval of vanished clothing. In the center of this, his prick was a nice-sized piece of man-sausage in pubic hair that was also the same shade of pale blond.
Lucky swung on James’ cock like a kid on a swing and James had an inkling of what was about to happen. “Doc, get out of the way! Hurry!”
Too late. Lucky’s body reached out and a tube-shaped projection grabbed Dr. Clarkson’s dong! Dr. Clarkson was jerked toward James as the tube contracted back into Lucky’s body. They were left bare-belly to bare-belly by Lucky’s chipmunk sized body that now held two male prongs inside.
And Dr. Clarkson jerked as if shocked and then his eyes grew wide and James realized what was going on. “He’s got you, too, now.” he said sympathetically.
“Oh, oh, oh!” Dr. Clarkson moaned.
“I’m so sorry I dragged you into this.”
“What the fuck is he doing?”
“You’re about to have the best fucking orgasm of your life, Doc.” James said. “Hang on, it’ll be over, soon.”
“Oh, God, oh, God, oh, oh!” Dr. Clarkson groaned. His body shuddered.
And James reached out and held Dr. Clarkson tightly. His lips found Dr. Clarkson and he kissed him ardently. His own dong was coming to life again.
Dr. Clarkson moaned, jerked, spasmed in James’ arms and James held him tight. “Hang on, hang on, it’s all right, it’s all right.”
“Oh, oh, GAH-HAH-UH, UH, UH, HUNNNNNN-GUHHHHH!”
“It’ll be over soon, hang on, just let it happen, just let it happen.” James moaned. Oh, jeez, his turn was starting again. Having this studly veterinarian in his arms had stimulated him more than he’d thought!
“Huh, uh, uh, uh!” Dr. Clarkson moaned.
And James’ own cock began to sparkle again. Jesus, this was happening more often, and it was still just as magical as it had been the first time! What was this little alien chipmunk doing to his body, his wonderful body that gave him such pleasure that...oh, God, here it comes again!
Dr. Clarkson realized and held James while James fed another load into Lucky’s insatiable maw. As James turned his lust-dimmed eyes toward the xeno-vet’s face, and the kiss he got was wonderful, just wonderful!
“I can’t pull loose.” Dr. Clarkson said when James was able to understand him again. “We’re locked together by this little alien of yours.”
“I’m sorry, Doc. I shouldn’t have picked him up, but he seemed so freaking harmless back on his home planet.”
“I know. It happens all too much. So long as humans are human, some of us are going to be enticed by what is cute and cuddly.”
James felt a bubbling at his crotch. Something was happening to Lucky!
He pulled away as best he can and looked down. It was the only way he and the doctor would have seen what happened next.
Lucky’s midsection seemed to split apart. Lucky vented a nearly horrible screeching sound, and...and things bubbled out of him and dropped to the floor. Fur-covered drops.
Lots of little Luckys were being born. There must have been at least a dozen of them. As soon as they landed, they scattered.
“Oh, my God!” Dr. Clarkson breathed.
“We’ve got to stop them! We got to!” James moaned.
But even though they staggered together toward the door, they were much, much too late. Three men in the waiting room now had bare midsections with a furry alien chipmunk latched onto his manhood, a big hole in the front door told the fate of the others.
“We’ve let loose a major alien infection!” Dr. Clarkson moaned.
“I did, you mean!” James groaned.
“What are we going to do?”
“Call the government. Call emergency! Call everyone!” James shrieked. Maybe it wasn’t too late.
But of course, it was. Before the end of the year, New Kansas was totally covered with lots of friendly, furry, cuddly, come-happy alien chipmunks, all the progeny of little Lucky. That and the many men of the planet, now paired up and engaged in endless sessions of hot, magnificent, multi-gloried sex that isn’t ever, ever going to stop.
All caused by James Matson going on vacation, picking up something cute and cuddly he shouldn’t have, and taking it to bed with him.
But then, of course, which of us hasn’t been guilty of doing that every now and then, huh?
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