STARWRECKED
Chapter One

Earth Federation Starship "Far Wanderer" came into the atmosphere of the alien planet at an angle and if anyone had been standing on the surface to observe and report, they would have seen at once that the ship was in trouble. The ship was designed to land vertically on its three legs placed in a triangle on its base safely distanced from the main rear jet, and instead it was coming down, the rear jet silent when rear jets of a starship are never silent when it is operational, and the ship was going to land on its side with the side jets firing desperately trying to upright it at the last minute. Its forward speed and atmosphere were defeating that, though.

The terrain came up too fast and the ship landed with a loud and powerful, brain-achingly painful "Crunch!" of metal and sparks of electrical wires being ripped to shreds and small explosions and faintly, very faintly, the cries of men. This lasted for perhaps twenty seconds, though to the inhabitants of the ship, it was an eternity. Then it ended and, with it, came an equally aching silence. The ship was down, the explosions done, the wires snapped, and the ship was dead on an alien, unknown world.

All was quiet aboard ship for the next two days Earthside time (though outside the sun rose and set and rose again only once, as the day was almost 45 hours long), as the men inside cleaned up the ship and re-oriented their different compartments, for their new arrangement of having their starboard side now being "down" instead of "right." They had to deal with floors that were cup-shaped instead of flat, renovating their mess hall to let them eat at tables and chairs again, and of course, tending to the injured and dealing with their dead. You don't crash-land on an alien planet in a starship without casualties.

Of the eighty men aboard the ship, forty-five had survived, including all of the command crew and engineering. If they could re-right the ship, repair the damage, and restore the engines, it would fly again. And if they could grow wings, they could fly, too. One was as likely as the other.

"We'll have to explore the local region, see what supplies if any we can salvage from outside," Captain Kabili stated, his dark serious face maintaining a cool calmness even now. He was a good starship captain and a good captain learns first and foremost to never show doubt or fear no matter what. "What are the first readings on the environment, Bogdan?"

Commander Bogdan (the starship custom, given its limited personnel for extended periods, opted to use rank plus first names rather than surnames), in stark contrast to his dark-skinned captain, was very pale-skinned, to where he appeared to be almost a ghost, but growing up in the northern part of Siberia, this was the normal skin tone of his family. His hair was also a very pale brown which avoided being blonde somehow. "The first readings are very good sir, the atmosphere is eighty-two percent free nitrogen, fourteen percent oxygen, and a trace mixture of other gases, all harmless to humans. My samples aren't conclusive, but they pulled in no inimical bacteria. I'm running genetic tests to verify if they are compatible with human DNA or not to see if they pose a threat. My preliminary guess, though, is they won't like our taste, very simple organisms. None have interacted with the human cells I have introduced to them for testing."

There was a lot more reporting and questions and answers, but these two summarized the "meat" of the conference. It ended with the captain ordering a squad to be assembled from the survivors to go out and collect samples of the plant life and any innocuous animal life to bring back for study as well as some soil samples with an eye to mining and if need be, farming.

A squad of five men were selected from the ones who volunteered, and they set out under the command of Lt. Hanale Hekekla, a strong, stolid, light-brown-skinned, handsome man and a natural leader. The other four were scientists bent on the task of gathering the specimens as they could, and the other was the other lone man carrying a weapon, making with the lieutenant their two bodyguards. All wore protective gear of soft, pliable clothing that covered them entirely from the neck down, including their hands and feet, boots also on their feet for added comfort walking, and a helmet that filtered the air from outside completely of all particles of any size beyond the atoms of air.

One of the scientists working on the gathering of specimens was Science Spacer Damien Calvert. Damien had just turned thirty years of age and had left a wife back on his home world of New Auckland. Tall and slender in build, he stood six foot two, with a decent muscle build, he had curly brown hair, green eyes and a reasonably handsome face, his cheeks were a bit full, normal when serious but turned into wide chipmunk-like cheeks when he grinned which was frequent, as he loved to laugh and joke with people. His work was in the life sciences of other worlds and as an avocation, he helped coach football (European style, that is) in his spare time. People liked him, and he had no trouble getting along in the rather claustrophobic confines of a starship. As they walked, he observed the planet's life with the eyes of a scientist, trying to ascertain which specimens he should get samples on this, his first exploratory journey of a new world.

The flora of this planet was intriguing, but the plants of any world are always strange, exotic, interesting for life has any number of ways to handle the problems of life. This world had its own answers to the niches that life could fill in the world, there were many variations of plants with leaves that were long and tubular instead of flat and had large, man-sized, oblong, bulbous pod-like things on the end (seed pods?), the hotter sun in the sky may have explained that, and the ground was only spottily covered in grasses, perhaps the soil was poor quality, or rains were infrequent, such as in the desert, where grass seeds lie dormant until the rains come.

"This is far enough," said Lt. Hanale as he raised up a hand to show "stop." "Okay, this looks as good as we're going to get, collect samples while we stand guard."

That was his cue, Damien had already picked out his first choice, a rather unique small flower growing in an otherwise bare patch around a largish tree on the uneven terrain. This entire region where they had come down was very flat, but the ground was covered with many intricate thin furrows of ground that radiated out in myriad directions and overlapped, making depressions in the earth of squares, diamonds, ovals, and polygons that were surprisingly firm when walked upon. It was the human desire to call these designs purposeful but that of course made no sense, they were too haphazard for that though like with clouds, there was a tendency to see shapes in the mosaic of lines, as if this were an unlighted artwork composed with pieces of sand-toned glass.

He was at the flower, a daisy-shaped thing some eight inches in diameter, the multi-colored petals were laid out in a radius of eight petals some three or more inches long, and the central disc area from which they extended was a contracted region, below that the flower was apparently submerged into the soil. This flower seemed to flourish mostly underground and depended upon its flowers to attract whatever insects it depended upon to pollinate its fellow flowers....

In his examination of the living plant, Damien had stepped very close to it and was crouching down to get a better look, his legs spread wide at the knees to look down easier. As Damien examined the flower in curiosity, things happened with startling rapidity.

There was a soft *pop* of an explosion from the ground beneath the flower and it shot up from the ground to strike Damien right on his crotch. The petals clamped onto his clothing, and Damien yowled as the flower's petals proved to be far more durable than Earth's flowers, for they contracted and his poor balls, which were the central point of the contraction, were caught and pinched even through the pliable material. He wore no undergarments beneath the suit, as the body needed the airflow from the helmet to wick away the body's heat effectively. So the thin cloth was little impediment to the petals which felt out the outlines of his scrotum and balls and arranged themselves to individually encircle and squeeze them separately and ferociously.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, guhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnh!" Damien cried out.

"It's got me, this damned flower is a trap!" He groaned, fell onto the ground on his back, and wailed, reeled, helpless as a baby in a bassinet for the petals on his nuts were relentlessly pulsing, alternately pressing and releasing his nuts in a way that inflamed his entire body with heat. "Someone help me, pleeeeeeeeeeeeease!" he wailed. He tried to grab for the petals, but they were so flat on his groin that it was impossible to get a purchase on them, it was like trying to peel off paint! He kept on trying, in vain, to remove the torment as he kept on yelping for help, help, HELP! in a childish, wailing tone so high it was hard to believe a man's throat produced it.

But his was not the only cry of warning and for help, the others were busy dealing with similar fates, for the flowers were almost everywhere and the men, fanned out, had all managed to fall prey to one that was "in range" to strike. The flowers were everywhere and so close to the ground that they were nearly invisible until you got right upon them.

The soft material was designed to keep foreign particles off his body and the flower's petals had a coating of fast-acting microbial saprophytes, it ate through the material in less than five seconds and fell off in a powder and Damien's cock and balls were now exposed to the flower's perversion. The flower's petals reached up and showed an astonishing animal ability to grasp him, two of the petals wrapped his dong's shaft near the base and, between themselves, they covered the lowest four inches of his eight-inch prong which had inexplicably surged into an erection when his balls had been squeezed so painfully.

"Not my dong, not my dong, let go of me, let go, no, no, NOOOOOOO!" he gasped and tried to pull off these new petals with the same lack of success. They had bonded to him in some wise. The only thing he could grab was the pistil below the petals, which was some four inches long and he tugged at this but the petals constricted so tightly on his nuts when he tried that he had to let go and just writhe, waiting for aid to reach him somehow.

The ship was calling them, asking for a report and details from the lieutenant, who was hollering as much as the rest of them. Nobody was answering the ship's calls, any attempts to do so were blotted out by the unending cries of pain, just a random word here and there was getting through to Damien's radio.

Another set of louder noises sounded from the "trees" around them. From four of the trees, five pods had disengaged and fallen to the ground. The pods, Damien saw as he watched, rolled over, unfolded, and became vaguely grasshopper-like creatures, which took flight and headed toward them from three directions.

One landed near Damien and reached toward his crotch. "Oh, God!" breathed Damien and would have said more, but the creature's mouth, which was an odd twin to the central disc of the flower, stuck its mouth onto the stub area which Damien had tugged on in vain.

Damien was astonished when the creature raised its head and Damien went with it, he found himself being lifted up by the flower's hold on his balls and cock, an odd cord-like thing (from the flower or the beast Damien couldn't tell) whipped around the base of his scrotal sac and gripped and that was the now major hold the thing had on him, the petals now concentrated on mauling his nuts and the petals on his shaft began to pulse in a way that jacked his foreskin back and forth, his pud was throbbing and his sexual excitement now was unmistakable, God help him, was he getting into this?

The "grasshopper" was ferrying him into the air and away from the ship, away from the trees, toward some unknown destination. Was this some bizarre method of fertilization of their seeds and the transmittal of them to some other far-off destination where they could be planted to grow. And if so, what would be their source of fertilization, his own dead body? Damien shuddered, in fear and loathing, but also in desire and excitement. These things intended to use his body thoroughly before his death, he would suffer a death by ecstasy.

On they flew, the plain seemed endless or they flew slowly, Damien had no way to tell. But as they flew, they encountered more flying life, some smaller versions of the grasshoppers, call them "minilocusts" and the minilocusts swarmed around them, faster and more agile than the encumbered grasshopper bearing Damien in his grip. Damien groaned and gasped as his cock was pumped and his dong waved in the breeze, his balls continued to be wrangled, wracked, and wrenched by the petals that were painted onto his prick and pouch, the pain from his weight being borne by the clench on his scrotal sac was stretching out his privates further than his former sexual play ever had, would they finally tear off, leaving him neutered, oh, God, help him, someone, somewhere, help him!

The saprophytes had continued to digest his clothing, he now wore nothing between his mid-ribs and knees and the material continued to fluff away from him in a faint dark powder. His ass was now exposed and he managed to clutch the grasshopper's legs with his boot heels and then his hands and pull some of the painful ferrying ball-clutch off of his nut sac. God, they had been en route for over ten minutes and he was in agony!

Below them now were mountains and even if he could get loose now, he didn't want to be, he would crash upon what looked like very rough rocks. He held on as best he could, the agony in his balls still ongoing, the pleasure in his cock continuing and he wondered if he came now, he would spurt out into the atmosphere and splatter over the rocks. Would his human life genetic code be thus introduced into this world? The suit he had worn was designed in part to prevent that very thing but now...what choice did he have?

Something was licking his ass. He wasn't sure at first, the winds were variable, but then the sensations grew stronger and he wondered what or who was doing that? All he could imagine was the minilocusts had found his butthole and were busily trying to get into his ass! Oh, geez, what was going on with this planet! It had man-fucking on the brain! What kind of cosmic joke had God played on him?

Whatever was doing it was now lapping at his ass-rim, he was getting a God-damned aerial rimjob! What man could resist the joy of that particular activity, the skin there was so fucking sensitive, it had a direct line to his cock's nerves and could short-circuit them in no time, all that thing had to do was stick its equivalent of a finger up his ass and he would squirt all his spunk in no time flat, he had learned that the hard way with a giggly, naughty boy-toy he'd picked up while in cadet training. Jesus, that had been a hell of a trip!

There was more than one "tongue" licking him, he felt his ass twitching and tuckering back and forth, in and out, like it was begging something to fuck it, fuck it now! God, the tongues were doing magical things to him, he was going to fucking come in mid-air! Why, oh why, was this happening to him? Had they all died in the crash and this was Hell? And if it was hell, why was he about to come so hard and so big? He had to fucking blow his nuts and blow them hard.

"God damn you things, whatever you are, I'm going to squirt and I hope it knocks one of you out of the fucking sky! Uhhhhhh-huhhhhhh! Oh, shit, jack my cock, you fucking flower! I don't know if these paint job petals of yours will ever come off, but it had better not stop now! Ahhhhhhhhhhh, shit, my nuts, not so fucking hard! Why'd you squeeze me so hard that time! I'm suffering, damn it, don't do th--... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!" he cut off after an elongated yell because the petals on his balls had squeezed and hadn't stopped for nearly a minute.

"UHHHHH, UHHHHHH, UHHHHHHH!" he panted when the pain of that hard squeeze had stopped. "Fuck you, fuck all of you, fuck this world, fuck this entire solar system, fuck this galaxy! HAHHHHH-AHHHHH-AHHHHHH-AHHHHH-AHHHHHHH!" His passion was back and hotter than ever. "TAKE THIS, YOU FUCKING PLANTS, I'M A MAN AND YOU CAN'T BREAK ME THIS EASILY! HAH-HAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

His spunk shot out hard and fast in huge white jets and as he squirted, the mini-locusts swarmed around to capture the squibs, falling like white fish in water and the mini-locusts were hawks diving after them, and catching them, eating the jizz in mid-dive, and Damien groaned and gasped and lost his hold on the grasshopper's legs and the pain in his ballsac was a jerk of intense pain and he squalled in his agony and fainted for a time, he was unsure how long. He woke up and was still bound and flying above now an ocean. God, what if this grasshopper dropped him now?

Still the grasshopper carried him on throughout the rest of the day and through the night, it seemed to be tireless and Damien was drained in more ways than one, he was thirsty and hungry and feeble and moaning and he had come again and again. The minilocusts were still with them, and his ass was still getting licked as he approached climax, he decided that they must be doing that to him.

The sight of land was something of a relief, he had wondered if the ocean was worldwide but for the small area of land they had landed on. The grasshopper seemed to be faltering and losing strength, they were losing altitude. Things were going to end one way or another pretty soon.

They flew inland, and now were only about twenty-five feet from the ground, Damien, now totally naked with no clothing on him of any kind and the helmet had fallen away, was panting from his last load and looked hopefully for a chance to break free. Though freedom so far from the ship wasn't ideal, this captivity was worse! If the minilocusts could eat his come, he could eat the minilocusts! Maybe even harvest these grasshoppers hanging down while they were still in pod form.

He saw their destination and screamed, "No, no, no, not that, NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

They came to another "pod-tree" and the grasshopper took him to the top of it, now barely clearing it, and the top of it was a sphincter like the grasshopper's mouth and the flower's central disc. They were all related, a single species in three forms!

The grasshopper set him down on the edge of the sphincter with his legs toward the middle of the sphincter and the edges worked and Damien found himself slipping. Down he slid toward the center of the sphincter which was opening for him. God, it was going to eat him alive!

He shrieked and his legs went into the sphincter which had opened to over ten feet in diameter, and he feared for his life, but it clamped shut on him when he was halfway down, clamping onto his waist.

He was dangling and he felt something fasten over his cock to capture his jism, and the flower continued to work on him, he didn't know how long this would last. Did the plant realize he needed food and water? Probably not!

He would be milked of his come until he died. He started to cry and then a tube came up to poke itself at his mouth. With no other choice, he opened his mouth and it inserted itself.

A wash of something paste-like gushed into his mouth. It was moist and it was filling. Time would tell if it was nourishing. Or poisonous.

His passion was increasing as he drank it, maybe this shit was an aphrodisiac.

The absurdity of his position occurred to him. Three distinct forms of this species--no. They needed a fourth to procreate.

And they had found it in him.

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