One Way Trip
Copyright© 2016 by L. Sprague Campbell Jr.
Duma was beginning to come out of the pleasant dream about a planet of flowers and slave-girls bound to his pleasure. The colors were vibrant and he conveniently disregarded the admonitions that the color was entirely added by artificial means into his sub-conscious.
The pretty slave-girl with the delicately shaped limbs was writhing in passion under his tutoring and he dispensed his spunk slowly doing his level best not to shock her with the gooey green slime that filled her insides beyond capacity. She was a beautiful thing reminding him of the butterflies on his home planet that existed just to pollinate the flowers that grew in every nook and cranny of the somewhat inhospitable environment. It was that withering away of the suitability of his home world planet that prompted his dispatch to search for an alternate location to install their spores for perpetual existence.
The girl staggered outside the pod door and vomited profusely like some common person with too much to drink. He didn't think it was particularly sensuous but it was a by-product of accepting his kind's spunk into non-conforming reproduction systems without proper training. He felt a twinge of pity for her because he knew deep inside that he would be using her again as soon as she was back to normal because there were not many slave-girls left on this side of the demarcation line between his kind and the native populace.
The natives were all dying off now in the decaying world.
It had been a poor choice by his revered ancestors but beggars can't be choosers and the planet was conveniently right in their path before they ran out of fuel cells and starting drifting aimlessly in the vacuum of space.
Duma was six of seven Dumas. He was the only male and as such he was the leader of the pod and the others all existed just to propagate the family line. None of the females ever merged with the humanoid species on the planet of their emergency landing but that was because their systems were only designed to take their male counterpart's creation organs by gyrating in impossible angles not appropriate to the humanoid capabilities for contortionism.
The slave-girl system was possible only with humanoid females with double joints and a spirit of adventure that surpassed normal logic.
The redheaded girl with the flexible limbs came back into the pod and got down into her submissive position showing that she had been well-trained in the novice school for humanoid service persons. The men all made excellent workers with their highly developed muscles and their peanut sized brains that seldom managed to think constructively about anything of customary importance to interstellar rulers of the universe.
He played with her soft red hair with his suction tipped limbs. It was pleasurable to run his suctions over her swelling breasts and down deep between her hindquarters tasting the sweat and the delicious scent of her humanoid body. He wished that his kind had that texture of exterior shell but he was stuck with the scaly things that he had inherited from his forebears.
The engineering section had recently discovered a formula for changing their exterior shells to something similar to the humanoid system but they did not get any volunteers to change into the less war-like exterior for fear they would subject to injury or even death with far greater risk. Duma had considered it but it was only when he was selected for an expeditionary mission to find a suitable alternative world for habitation that he decided to take a vial of the formula with him for the purpose of "blending" into a humanoid society.
He lost his train of thought when he mounted the red haired girl wrapping her succulent lower limbs in his scaly tentacles. He suctioned her soft flesh sucking in the minute traces of her DNA like it was a vintage wine served up for his pleasure. She whimpered and sobbed under his ministrations and he immediately lowered his intensity of mingling to allow her some vestige of dignity under the stress of taking his seed.
The girl was panting now with the typical response of the humanoid females to deep implanting. He cradled her nicely curved back globes with his sensitive suctions and she calmed down looking up into his three eyes with the look of full surrender. These humanoids were so easy, not at all like the females of his species that would sometimes kill their mates when they were most vulnerable buried deep inside their folds of flesh. He was thinking too much and would likely pay the price if he was scanned by one of the mind-reading sentinels looking for males with non-committed agendas or privates thoughts not in line with the good of the pod.
It was the whine of the warning signal that brought him up from the interstellar hibernation capsule. The noise beat on his brain like a whip of the Security Council. All he wanted was to get it turned off even if it meant coming back to the reality of transiting parsecs with no pleasure dreams and no hope of finding a suitable destination to set a course on at long last.
It was a surprise to him that the capsule warning signal was activated by the proximity of a suitable planet within hours of landing and that the control module wanted his suction pad in the proper place for the authority to make an initial landing for a scouting probe. He placed his pad on the activation plate and the he felt the capsule noticeably slowdown from the hyper-drive into normal gear for the approach pattern.
Duma did his best to retain the pertinent details of the red haired slave girl in his brain and stored the memory in his back-up disc for later re-runs. It was a treasure trove of pleasure impulses and he wanted to keep it close at hand in case he ran into a dearth of amusement on this suggested planet for pod expansion.
The nearby sun was a class three but still had millions of years of good service.
The most important feature of this solar system was the presence of a suitable planet with plenty of air to breath and water to sustain life. It looked like the ideal location for a transfer of the pods from the dying planet. They might even transfer some of the humanoid life forms to assist them in setting up their new infrastructure. He actually licked his lips thinking of the many female-slaves available for full duty on the new planet. The male workers would have plenty to do and he knew they would do their duty with the females when required to insure replacements for the necessary duties.
He eyed the safety box with the vial of transference but hesitated to use it until he knew for certain that the planet was the suitable choice for their re-location. Now that the course was set and the destination known, he was able to relax and he re-played the red haired slave girl tape when she was accepting her surrender to the needs of the pod. The girl was opening her inner secrets like some delicate flower of scented beauty. He was intrigued with the humanoids because they were all so different and not identical like his own people. The only way he could keep track of his own species was the scent of their spore that registered a specific chord in his thought pattern. It was easy to define male vs female but after that it was a delicate operation to track down a scent of one particular pod member never to be forgotten for all time.
Duma dozed off as they entered the new solar system.
He disregarded the other planets as being unsuitable for his purpose. The only one that seemed to meet the needs of the pod was the third planet from the sun. It had water in abundance and the atmosphere was not perfect but still close enough for their basic needs. They would not need a containment system and could probably get away with a modified inhalation implant that would operate without need for recharging.
The capsule came slowly from behind the dead moon attached to the new planet by the force of gravity. Hopefully, he and his ship would be mistaken for one of the many meteorites that sped in every direction and sometimes even landing on the surface of the planet in his front viewing panel. At first, he was in agreement with the analysis that speculated no humanoid life forms on the target world. Then, the intelligence module beeped new input and the likelihood of humanoid life forms increased from 17% to 99%. That could only mean the system had recorded positive source data that confirmed the presence of human life forms.
He looked at the density patterns.
The numbers of humanoids was decidedly impressive and he was tempted to abort all plans to land the ship. However, he knew these things were often subject to large swings of total numbers for many different reasons. They might have to put the planet through a series of culling efforts to reduce the numbers into a more reasonable fit. His data told him that many of the areas held humanoids of advanced intelligence and mechanical advancements.
Duma decided that he would head to an area that was more heavily populated by non-human animal populations and hope for the best.
He landed in the desert just outside Truth or Consequences, New Mexico with no one the wiser except for some excited prairie dogs that considered relocating to a quieter part of the open range.
The visitor from outer space looked around the almost empty cabin. He knew it was time for him to utilize the vial he had taken along for just such a situation. If things did not work out, he could always revert back to his normal scaly exterior and slimy tentacles more familiar to him and his kind. The injection didn't hurt at all because it was one of those new "painless"devices that shot the drug under his thick exterior.
Less than an hour after landing, he checked the mirror on the bulkhead and saw that his new humanoid form was ready for action. He looked like a normal humanoid lifeform and he was satisfied except he would have wanted a larger size third leg just in case he had a chance to test his new body in merging experiments with the new world females.
The computer replicator regurgitated a few clothing items that seemed adequate for his purposes but he was not certain if they were in a proper time frame or appropriate to the geographic locale. He would be able to tell as soon as he started to scout the surrounding areas. His screen informed him that a small town with several mobile home neighborhoods was in the direction of 110 % from magnetic north on his issued compass for this world's guidance system. He saw the dirt road leading in that direction and he had the distance measured as exactly 3.5 miles from the portal of his ship. It seemed a simple operation and he took a tube of water with him just in case he grew thirsty in the hot morning sun.
The first living thing he saw was a snake with a tail that rattled like pebbles on a metal surface. It seemed confused for reasons of its own and he avoided it because his protocol gave him specific instructions to continue without disturbing the thing not that he had any desire to do so.
The dirt road ended at the paved road that led straight to the small town further east and he knew it was still fairly early in the morning when he headed in that direction hoping to find a place to test his newly created identity.
He looked at his reflection in the plate glass window of a store that proclaimed it to be a "Funeral Parlor" and he vaguely understood that it had something to do with death. He was just not certain exactly what role the Funeral Parlor played and at that point he didn't care because he had bigger considerations on his mind including getting some food to fuel his new humanoid body. He hoped the small gold coins were still legal tender in this place but the information books seemed a bit sketchy on the details.
He walked into the restaurant expecting to find a possibility of confrontation, but everyone seemed all caught up in their own problems and they ignored him thinking he was some weird visitor from some other region.
They just didn't know how far away his point of origin really was.