SPCEWRCK.TXT - M/M, Semi-NC Oral/Anal - November 7, 2002 By SwampRat (cl) 1999 Gay Furry Association Space Wreck - Another Tyranid Story Soaranth Wrote me a letter and asked "Did you ever write any sequels to your Tyranid story?" Well now I have. The names Genestealers and Tyranids Are part of the WarHammer 2000 Universe. I have a couple Hundred dollars worth of their book, so Maybe they won't yell too loudly for my using their ideas. But Really They put out all these Hunky Sexy Creatures, then expect me to believe they all go after Females... There is No Way Homosexuality isn't in Chaos' plans.. Look what happens in the Real World. :> Anyway, Here is a tail about What sometimes happens in Space. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= "Sarge, What are we doing here again?" The nco growled and would love to have bitten a piece of the private's ass off.. Damn Humans! Damn Human No-tails with no sense! Damn humans who made these cigars he had become addicted to... And as much as he would Love to rip Private Mike's butt-hairs out, one didn't become Sargent by losing one's temper.. He just met eyes with the other Ferral, and growled, "We are here because We are expendable, Private." The man nodded and re-assumed his position, while the 'Wolfie' ground his teeth quietly and wished he had Something to suck on... Sucking always calmed his nerves, be it tobacco or flesh.. 8 humans and 16 Ferral made up HuntPod 17M. M for mixed.. It was still being tested, studied, checked. In the mean time 2 races that had a communal shower because Higher-ups wanted to save money, got used to seeing each other naked. Learned what was ok, and what was not.. Like the first time a human slapped his partner's furry butt in friendship, the 'Wolfie' was not sure if this was a greeting, an invitation to mating or if the human just liked slapping butts. Like the first time a Ferral grabbed a naked man and rubbed dicks together, wishing blessings for many children as the man was leaving to see his wife in a few days. The ritual 'Gift of Life' which looked like a circle-jerk to those who didn't know better before a mission. There was no such word as homosexuality in the Ferral language - Sex was sex, as long as the proper rituals were observed before and after, Who or What was of no concern. There was a rumor a pompous Ambassador got tripped up by this when contact was first being initiated. There were 4 male Ferral ( they have 4 fingers as they do not count the twin opposable thumbs, so things are done in 4's ) A hand, to greet the new race. The 4 wore nothing but their fur, and gave the ritual greetings. As they caressed each other, the Ambassador snorted, "Are they All Queer?" After discussing treaties and trade-pacts, the leader asked, "What is 'Queer'?" After some red-faces and some quiet discussion, the Ambassador haltingly told them. "Ah - male with male mating. While not generally used as a practice to seal bargains, I can see it's advantages. How long shall we mate for?" The Ambassador couldn't wriggle his way out of the trap his mouth had made. Some rumors say they did it right there, others say it was done in a room.. But they all agree Everybody watched to make sure it was done right. Rastl chuckled to himself wondering if the stories were true. "5 minutes to hookup." A machine droned in his ear. "Alright Quit grabbing tails and listen up. Left hands take the front. Right, Fingers ( 2 beings ) out the sides. Last hand, DeCon Suits. We take Nothing for granted.. Hope for the Best, Expect the Worse." * * * * Wrecks like this one were becoming common as the Wars went on. Most were ignored, being little more than floating skeletons. Others were intact enough that scouting parties had to be sent out. Maybe someone lived in a stasis pod. Maybe an enemy ship could give more insight to make better weapons. Maybe it was a Trap.. And no matter what it was, the Hulks were Damn well not going to get close enough to a inhabited world to find out. So Space Marines got to board them and decide if they were salvage or junk - The former to be dragged someplace, the latter to be blown to dust. And so the Hand went, checking and double-checking, leaving a few beings in strategic places to watch for anything unusual... Private Mike was standing guard in the corridor. It was more than boring but to him it was duty, a chance at responsibility. As he stood, the Sarge came by. "Short-arm inspection, Private. Drop your cod-piece.. Now." Without thinking he unsnapped the genital guard built into All suits and held it in his left hand. The furry male grabbed him and stroked the thickening man-meat. "You are doing Well, Private." "Thank You Sargent." was as automatic as breathing. Then he was erect, but he had no instructions on what to do so he stood with rifle in one hand and cod-piece in the other. "Cum Private." As with all previous orders he carried this one out without thought, without reason.. It Still felt Damn Good Which was what woke him. He was still standing guard, still with rifle and cod-piece, but instead of a wolf-like male gripping his dribbling dick, it was a 'Genestealer' one of the ugly, spiked 4-armed creatures that followed the Tyranids, supposedly removing certain body parts of the fallen. It was gleefully working his meat in a gnarled hand, what semen was not being collected in one of the many tubes it carried was being sampled by a purple tongue. As he watched one hand snap a lid on the tube, a second placed it in a satchel, a third was playing with his balls, and the fourth slid down his semi-hard dick, lips taking the head between them.. Then Suction, the clawed 'fingers' stripping his cock of all it could.. Private Mike struggled through the haze, remembering this was the Enemy, and he was supposed to shoot it. By the time he could get his body to respond in any other way except sexually, the creature was running down the corridor and gone. About that time, the Sarge Did come down.. Rastl took one look at the semi-hard Private, cod-piece in one hand, rifle in the other, still dribbling and shook his head. "Private Mike.. Do you like me shedding fur? Because every time I come around, You are doing something to Make me Do So." He grabbed the semi-hard sausage and Squeezed it, getting a deep moan, the man's knees buckling a little. "Gene *Gasp* Genestealer Sir.. Thought - Thought it was You.." Another squeeze. "And Why would I want you to take your cod-piece off Soldier?" "Short-Arm Inspection Sargent. You ordered me to remove my cod-piece and fondled me as you are now.. Sargent." Rastl growled and removed his hand. "Put your malehood back in, and try to keep a Better watch.." The man snapped the piece in place, saluted and stood at attention.. "Yes Sergeant.." The Ferral growled and radioed in the new position of the enemy. Then stalked off to check the other guard-posts.. Sure enough 'He' had already been there and taken inspections - Some losing their pants as well so their asses could be properly looked at. Why in the world would a Genestealer want with a Human Ass Anyway? And How was he going to write his report... < Tyranid Presence on Hulk. Genestealers 'sampled' Privates on Duty, using Hypnosis to lull them. Continuing pursuit. End Trans. > The canine-like male had a good chuckle, as he sent the message out. "Sargent! This is Private-First Johanson. Have engaged the enemy at sec 27, hall 2. Need reinforcement! Repeat, need Rein.." There was a growl and a shreak and the line went dead. Ferral can Move when they want to.. Gripping his rifle and cursing with every breath, the furry male pounded the flooring.. to come up short at the junction. The good news, There was no Blood. The bad news, There was no Johanson. Growling softly he stalked down the corridor, looking for Something to shoot, bite, claw.. Movement made him stop and slide next to a wide girder. Rastl gripped his gun, Jumped out.. And damn near Shot Johanson! "What the.. Why I... You.. Erf?" The human was standing in a daze, naked as the day he was born, with a puddle of liquid forming between his legs, composed of the semen that still dribbled out an abused cock and from between well-used ass-cheeks. "Sargent.. Came at me.. Too many.. Took rifle. Took suit. Took virginity." With this huge well-screwed grin.. The sarge had to catch him as he fell- forward. What the Hell? Genestealers first jerked off his men and now this? Footsteps made him turn There was Private Mike. Just as naked. Just as raped/abused.. With a Huge smile plastered all over his face. The canine-like male looked up and mouthed, 'Why me?' Second Hand Leader Uut came around the corner to Stare.. "Quit looking at his ass and help me get them to the ship." That got a toothy grin and they grabbed the men, half-dragging, half-carrying their burdens to the main hatch area. There he met the rest of the crew In similar shape. The humans were easy enough to believe but Ferral? Biting the end off a cigar, he chewed the tobacco, swallowing it - If he ever wanted to make a Private wish he was dead, he would do this, then offer the no-tail a bite.. It was amazing to watch how many shades of 'green' human skin can turn.. 4 crew left. While the cargo was expendable, the ships Weren't! Even as Old as the scout vessel was, Even though it took 4 crew to run the rusty bucket - The Higher-ups wanted to save, save, save... How the hell could Anyone fight a war when they had to fill out an Expense report every time things got used? 8 Human and 6 Ferral suits, Lost in Action. 14 pulse-rifles, Lost in Action. 16 magna boots make that 15, Lost in Action. He would be completely defurred by the time he could get out of this mess. 8 Ferral to guard the Humans If you didn't watch them, they would wander around bump into things and drool.. 4 to get the ship back with whatever information they had.. That left 4 to set explosives, route the enemy, do whatever else. He bit another piece off and growled. * * * * The Hive-mind 'saw' through the eyes of it's newest members that things were going well. Samples had been taken of many, but not All of the creatures, and the rituals had not completed. The tyranid warriors growled, abdomen's shaking with desire for the new flesh, big quadruple arms wishing to grip muscular butt-flesh, stroke the seed-givers bodies.. Gnome-like Genestealers licked black lips with long purple tongues, wanting to suck on thick cocks and fat ball-sacks.. To fill their tubes and gullets with sweet mammal cum. One more raid on the 'larder' and they would have enough for the time being.. Then they would leave the wreck, perhaps with some of the Drones to keep the 'enemy' busy until they could regroup, take the samples and find another place to ambush the creatures who even now came down the corridors looking for them. The End...?