Copyright (C) 2003 by Felix Lance Falkon; you may save your own use or make paper copies for your own use; do post, repost, distribute, or archive without author's consent.
(This is a scene from a work in progress, EXPEDITION. A space- ship brought explorers, scientists, technicians, and so on, to this uninhabited planet from a very crowded Earth whose teeming population is barely kept in check. Now that the team has completed a survey and written a report, the team's members are reducing their numbers down until remain no more than two or three, who will carry the report back to Earth.)
The sun was comfortably warm on Jon's bare skin as he strolled along a path that meandered through the zoo. The muscular Space Patrolman looked back; his two native guides -- naked, like everybody else on this weird planet -- were catching up now. On his right, Jon saw three shaggy, donkey- sized animals, each with an elephant-like trunk.
One of the animals pricked up its ears and trotted to the waist-high wooden fence that enclosed their paddock; the other two approached more sedately.
"Are those . . . ?" Jon asked, as soon as Tark caught up.
"Aye," said the big, well-muscled native, putting his left arm around Jon's broad shoulders. "What we were telling you about. Gutters. From the northern plains. Usually somebody'd be feeding 'em by now; they're that popular and then some."
"Yeah?" Jon glanced at Tark, noticed the native's cock was half-hard and erecting fast, then turned back to the shaggy animals, comfortably aware of his own solid, well- defined musculature and heavy genitalia.
Dinny, the younger guide, stopped at Jon's left side. "Out on the plains, they feed mostly on armored grass- eaters." The lithe youth strode to the fence and scratched the nearest gutter behind the ears. "They gut them alive, using their trunks to bore right on in. Real neat."
"Yeah? They look nice and friendly to me, but . . ."
"Sign they're hungry." said Tark, letting his left arm slip from Jon's shoulders. Jon watched as the big native reached over the fence and patted another gutter's head. "They're not fussy, though; take a runner if they can."
Jon cautiously stroked a rubbery trunk that snaked over the fence. "They sure don't look . . . dangerous," he said, "more like . . ."
"Dangerous, very dangerous and then some," Tark said. "Show you. Watch." He mounted the fence, dropped lightly to the other side. A moment later, Dinny vaulted over the fence and joined Tark.
"But . . ." Jon put both hands on the top rail.
"Fence's just to keep the gutters in," Tark explained. "Any time there's no sign up saying you shouldn't, okay to climb over and just -- just start feeding one."
"Come on," Dinny said. "It's heaps more fun to feed 'em yourself, 'stead of just watching them gut some other guy."
Jon saw that Dinny's genital shaft was erecting rapidly, and that Tark's was already rigid. "Well . . ." The Space Patrolman swung his naked body over the rail and into the paddock. He glanced to his left, at Dinny's long shaft; then to his right, at Tark's. Jon felt his own spike stiffen as he remembered the taste and feel of Dinny's glans, remembered how Tark had taken Jon's shaft while Jon worked on Dinny's. Jon had never sucked cock before, never even had his own serviced like that; but with these lusty studs teaching . . . and after all, the Captain had ordered everyone on the spaceship to learn all they could about this weird planet and its virile nudists.
"Want to go first?" invited Tark, dodging as the trunk of one of the gutters reached for the muscular native's prong.
"Me? Right now? But . . ." Jon licked his lips. He wanted to turn and run, wanted to stay and watch, wanted to . . . "I -- I'm still getting hard," he said, touching his own half-erect shaft, "and you already -- are. Go ahead while I stiffen up some more."
"Aye; watching me start feeding this one will get you good and ready." Tark turned to the gutter, folded arms across muscle-sheathed chest and growled, "Come on, now; take me."
Jon stared, fascinated, as the end of the animal's trunk met Tark's rigid shaft and deftly engulfed Tark's glans. A slow contraction rippled along the trunk, sucking in a centimeter of hard meat.
Jon suddenly realized he had dropped to his knees for a closer look at the gutter working on Tark's sturdy prong.
As Jon watched, the muscular native chuckled, then asked, "Never seen a stud being eaten alive like this?"
"Not like . . . this. Fuck, man; before you two showed me how, I never even saw anybody get sucked off, much less -- Hey, is that critter really going to . . . ?"
"Gut me?" Tark nodded. "Eating my glans now. Grind up the rest of my shaft next. After that, trunk'll bore into my crotch and start gutting me." He patted the hard ripple of muscle that armored his belly and grinned. "Few seconds more, and I'll pump out some ball-cream to flavor my prong-tip. Kind of fun, getting reaped out like this -- you'll see."
"Then you really are . . ." Jon touched his own cock, stiff and hard, quivering as if eager to be . . . eaten. He looked to his left, at Dinny, who stood between the other two gutters, evading their trunks, which were snatching at the youth's rigid shaft.
"We won't lie to you about this, y' know," the youth explained, "so we gotta be sure you know what'll happen to you before we let one of these gutters start eating your prong. Okay?"
"I don't know what the fuck I want to do," Jon growled. "How about . . . I mean, are you going to . . . let one of those fuckers eat your prong . . . and your balls and . . . and . . ."
". . . gut me?" Dinny nodded. "Sure. Tark and me, we've watched guys being eaten like this, and they all say it's a real neat way to get reaped out."
"Well, what the fuck . . ." Jon looked again at Tark and his partly engulfed spike, then faced Dinny, put his fists on his hips, and said, "Okay, I'll . . . keep you two crazy studs company and . . . and let one of these critters gut me too."
Dinny guided one of the animals toward Jon. A shiver ran up the naked Space Patrolman's back as he watched -- and felt -- the gutter's trunk fumble along the side of his rigid prong. The trunk found the tip; and warm, slippery wetness enveloped Jon's glans. He watched his glans slowly disappear into the trunk, then took a deep breath and looked up.
Tark's muscles rippled. He half-relaxed, jabbed with his hips, and tightened his muscles again. After a moment, Tark relaxed slowly, blinked, and grinned at the Space Patrolman.
"Did you . . ." Jon swallowed hard and tried again: "Did you really . . . ?"
"Aye, just squirted a load of cream into this hungry critter," Tark said. He glanced down at the trunk that had engulfed half the length of his virile shaft. "Sucking harder now; must like the taste and then some. I'll shoot another load real soon." He met Jon's anxious gaze. "You all right?"
"Yeah, I . . . yeah." Jon felt the inside of the gutter's trunk rub harder . . . still harder . . . grinding into Jon's cock-tip, rasping away his flesh. He licked his lips, nodded, and said, "I'm watching my cock go in deeper; and inside, I can feel the critter scraping the meat off my my glans, eating me alive, yeah; but -- but I'm okay so far." He glanced at Dinny and saw the third gutter reach for the youth's glans. "Hey, kid! Look out!"
"It's all right; ever since I watched some guys being eaten by these gutters, I've wanted to feed them too," said the young native, watching calmly as the gutter's trunk found his genitalia. He met that trunk with an impaling thrust of his hips and slid his glans in deep. "My critter takes hold fast," Dinny said, looking up with a toothy grin. "It's started eating me already. This is neat."
"Yeah . . . I know," Jon said. "But, you didn't have to do that, just to . . ."
Dinny put his right hand on Jon's left shoulder. "It's okay, really. Tark and I both wanted to -- Hey! Now I'm gonna shoot!"
Jon gasped, "And so . . . the fuck . . . am I!" A moment later, they both did. Orgasm for Jon was explosively intense; the gutter sucked it all down, then rubbed and sucked and rasped for more. Jon pumped out the last of his sperm, but his partly-eaten shaft stayed rock-hard, and he felt another load gathering down in the roots of his genitals.
"Told ya it'd be fun," said Tark, as Jon and Dinny caught their breaths.
"It's . . . yeah." Jon nodded slowly. "Feeling the critter grind away on the head of my prong . . . eating me alive . . . but yeah, it is kinda fun, feeding myself to the critter like this . . . feeling it take my prong . . . working closer and closer to my balls . . . watching myself being eaten . . . yeah. But I remember you studs sucking my prong and then teaching me how to suck yours . . . and that three-way fuck last night, with me in the middle . . ." He touched Tark's pectorals with his right hand, squeezed the base of Dinny's shaft with his left. "Fun, yeah; but it's still a waste, letting these fuckers grind up our prongs, instead of . . ."
"Y' mean, 'stead of us taking each other all the way, balls and all?" asked Dinny. "That's a real simple way to reap a guy out: just take his glans into your mouth, start chewing, and eat him alive: prong, balls, and all."
"Yeah?" said Jon. "But . . ."
"Could have taken turns, castrating each other," said Tark. "First, watch me eat Dinny's organs while Dinny explains how I'm doing it. Then you eat mine while Dinny and I coach you. Finally, Dinny eats your organs while you and I watch."
"Or," Dinny said, "a three-way, with us in a circle --"
"-- a triangle, really," Tark said.
"Okay, okay," Dinny said, "the three of us eating and getting eaten all at the same time. It's quick and simple, with no 'quipment to mess 'round with; we just do each other. Or, one guy can just lie back and invite somebody to start eating his prong."
Tark grinned. "Trouble is, raw prongs are real tough, and blood gets over everything. Eating somebody raw, that's work -- it's lots easier if you cook him first. But getting eaten alive, it's like -- like feeding somebody with your cream, only a lot more so." He gestured at the three gutters eating his, Dinny's, and Jon's shafts.
Jon shivered. "I . . . I dunno. Fuck, just thinking about getting my prong eaten oughta make me go soft. Instead, I'm harder than ever . . . watching . . . and inside, feeling the critter grinding away . . ." Jon thrust cautiously with his shaft at the slowly advancing trunk. "Like I said, I . . . I dunno. Maybe . . . yeah, maybe I just don't want to admit it's fun . . . feeding myself to the critter . . . watching the three of us get eaten alive together . . . yeah!" He studied his doomed shaft for a moment, then asked, "What happens when they run out of prong-meat, anyway?"
Tark patted the trunk that was eagerly taking his manhood. "Cutting teeth, all the way 'round the end. Feel."
The naked Space Patrolman gingerly fingered the trunk that was eating his own shaft. He felt a needle-sharp point . . . another. Jon raised his hand; two drops of blood glistened on his finger. "Yeah, I see what you mean. Then what?"
Tark explained: "Trunk drills into my crotch and eats the glands in the base of my shaft."
"Yeah. And after that . . . it . . . they'll gut us?" asked Jon.
Tark nodded, took a deep breath, and looked down. "Shooting again -- now!"
As Jon watched, Tark's orgasm seemed more intense this time: powerful muscles strained, lean hips thrust and thrust again. Jon's own organs surged; he wasn't quite ready, but . . . soon. He heard Dinny gasp aloud, turned, and watched Dinny climax again. "Kid," said the Space Patrolman, "you are a real hot-rod."
The naked youth grinned. "Thanks." He took a deep breath, another. "I think I can shoot again, 'fore the gutter finishes taking me; so far, it's only eaten half my prong."
"Record's five," said Tark.
"Five?" asked Jon.
"Well," said Dinny, "if you take a half-grown gutter and practically force-feed it right after it finishes eating a real heavy-hung guy's meat . . ."
Tark chuckled. "That record's six. Stud that made five got eaten fair, but he started with a 35-centimeter shaft." The muscular native glanced down at the trunk that was gelding him. "Just about to drill into me, now."
As Jon, Tark, and young Dinny watched, the trunk engulfed the last of Tark's shaft, touched his crotch, then began to rotate -- a quarter turn one direction -- a quarter turn the other -- cutting into the big man's body. Tark squirmed and thrust, impaling himself on the gutter's trunk as it bored deeper. He reached down, slid his hand under the trunk where it entered his body, squirmed again, and then raised his hand.
"Got 'em okay?" asked Dinny.
"Your fucking balls!" gasped Jon.
"Aye," said Tark, examining his severed testicles and their bloody sack. "Trunk usually misses them, so you have to catch them before they fall." He licked his lips and held out his bloody gonads. "Want to try one?"
"Huh? But I . . . but you . . ." Jon wanted to say "no," but his own organs were coming to a boil and would soon erupt. Curiosity . . . or hunger . . . something made him say, "Yeah, thanks."
"You two split mine now," said Tark. "Dinny and I, we'll divvy up yours; and then you and I, we'll eat Dinny's."
"Sounds . . . okay." Jon took one bloody ovoid; Denny, the other. The Space patrolman popped the testicle into his mouth and began to chew. The meat was warm and tender, salty with fresh blood . . . and suddenly Jon was climaxing, pumping another load of semen into the trunk that was grinding away his virility, eating him alive.
"I told ya this'd be more fun than just watching me and Tark get eaten," said Dinny.
"Well . . . yeah." Jon relaxed slowly, watching Dinny for a moment. I'm feeding myself to this gutter, Jon told himself: feeding my hot, hard meat into this animal's hungry trunk. A moment ago, I fed it with my juices; now, I'm feeding the rest of my shaft to the critter, right down to the hilt, and after that . . . Jon looked down to check the progress of his own castration and saw the last of his prong disappear into the gutter's trunk. Pain lanced into his belly, quickly fading into an orgiastic glow as the gutter cut into his crotch.
"Your balls," Tark said. "Quick!"
Jon fumbled under the trunk where it was boring into his body; suddenly his hand was filled with warm testicles, all slippery with blood. Shakily, he raised his hand, studied his organs a moment, then offered one to Tark, the other to young Dinny.
While Jon's gutter bored deeper into his entrails, he watched the two natives devour his balls. Dinny finished chewing, swallowed, and then climaxed again. Still thrusting with his hips, Dinny reached down, tugged, and held up his own freshly severed balls.
Jon felt a sudden, muscle-tightening jolt inside his own hips. He gasped aloud, then slowly relaxed as the hungry animal ate deeper and deeper. "Wow," Jon sighed. "It feels I'm like trying to shoot another load when I don't have anything to shoot with."
"Gutter's eating your prostate gland," said Tark.
"Yeah?" Jon focused his attention on the slowly fading sensation for a moment. "That felt real wild." He took Dinny's testicle, popped it into his mouth, and chewed slowly, savoring the subtle taste of the youth's virility. Done, he licked his lips thoughtfully and said, "Y' know, a guy could get to like those things, even though . . ."
"More to it than that," Tark said. "When I feed someone else, -- watching you and Dinny sucking my prong and then feeding you with my ball-cream, watching and feeling you swallow . . ." The muscular native took a deep breath, then grinned at Jon. "I've eaten a lot of studs' organs, yeah; did real good in contests. But feeding my own meat to somebody or some thing -- watching my own organs get eaten: that's new to me."
"Yeah . . . for all three of us," said Jon. He squirmed, caught his breath as he felt gutter's trunk bore deeper into his body. "Contests . . . ?"
"Weight-lifting contests," Tark said, flexing his arms in a body-building pose. "Both kinds."
Dinny explained: "One kind of weight-lifting is with your muscles; how much can y' pick up or bench-press -- you know. Then, if it's a gelding match, the lifters bet their organs on the results and the winners get to cook and eat the losers' organs -- still attached, of course. More fun that way.
"The other kind of lifting is where you see how strong your shaft is. The contestants pick up heavier and heavier weights, using clamps fastened around the base of each guy's prong."
"To see whose gets pulled out, balls and all?" asked Jon. "Yeah, I know. A Space Marine I know was telling me . . . his squad saw that kind of weight-lifting match. The studs doing it were really enjoying it, so the Marines had themselves a tension contest too, and they had so much fun at it that, after they'd cooked and eaten the first-round losers' organs, the winners challenged each other into more rounds. Marines are crazy, yeah; but they're not quite dumb enough to risk their balls in a tension contest with any of you locals."
"Aye," said Tark. "Smart's better than strong. Gotta be real careful and then some about who you challenge: big studs' organs look smaller than they really are, and bigger isn't always stronger.
"But speed-chess fed me best. Let 'em think it'd be easy to take the big, dumb muscle-head." Tark opened his eyes wide, wrinkled his brow, let his face muscles go slack, stared blankly into the distance, abruptly seeming to be the perfect, empty-headed goof-off.
Jon felt his own mouth fall open. Tark's face came alive again as he grinned at Jon's surprise. "I -- I see what you mean," Jon said. And even without that trick . . ."
Jon eyed Tark's powerfully muscled physique for a moment. Tark grinned again, then said, "Took out a whole chess club once; began with one chess-player betting his organs against mine. Let two games go to a draw, won the third. Second player put his balls on the table, trying to win back his pal's. After that match, I offered go another round, this time betting the two studs' organs I'd won so far. Two more chess-players put their organs up as stakes. Stalemated the first game, won the next. A chess- stud whose organs I hadn't won -- yet -- asked would I risk my own balls again, 'long with the four I'd won so far so I'd be betting five sets of organs on the next round. I put on a big show of not being eager to take his bet till he talked four more chess-studs into adding their organs to his as the stakes for that round.
"That match wiped out the club, 'cause an eleventh stud showed up late, decided he wanted to keep his pals company, and fed me his organs too."
"And . . ." Jon took a deep breath. ". . . and then you ate eleven guys' organs?"
"Well, Dinny helped; kid's got a real appetite. And I let the chess-studs eat a few bites of each other's meat." Tark licked his lips, his face suddenly thoughtful. "Studs I've eaten, they'd try to explain how it felt, watching me bite into their prongs, watching me chew on their balls; but I never really understood what being eaten is like until . . ."
"Uh . . . yeah." Jon rubbed his lean belly. "Like . . . like watching you two studs sucking me off, and feeding you shots of my cream . . . and now, feeding my shaft to this hungry critter . . . letting it eat me . . . and watching these critters eat the three of us together . . . yeah! It's -- it's crazy, but somehow, it's fun." The Space Patrolman watched the rubbery trunk slide deeper into his crotch, felt the tip begin eviscerating him.
"You can't see much now," Dinny said, "but you can sure feel it sucking your guts out."
"Yeah," said Jon. "It's -- it's eating mine already. Uh . . . just how long will it take for them to . . . to finish us off?"
"All the way?" Tark shrugged his thick shoulders. "Hours and hours. Strictly live-meat eaters. Save our hearts and lungs till last. Their saliva seals off veins and arteries so we last longer while they're gutting us. When they're full, they'll pull their trunks out and take a nap. If we're still here when they wake up, they'll finish gutting us. Or else we could find something else to reap us out the rest of the way."
"Like?"
Dinny said, "Critters that'll eat us alive, feet first. Or there's always the packing plant, where guys'll cut us up into steaks and roasts and so on. We even get to watch while they do it."
"To -- to watch?"
"Sure," said Tark. "Well, part way. Clamp off the big arteries and veins that run down from our chests, and then we watch them cut off everything from our feet on up to our waists."
Jon shivered, then said,"Yeah? That could be -- yeah." He dropped his gaze, watched and felt his gutter's trunk slide deeper. He stroked the carnivore's shaggy head, asked, "Still hungry?" The gutter looked up with an innocent, `who, me?' expression in its brown eyes, but it kept right on devouring the naked Space Patrolman's entrails.
Jon grinned, then raised his head to watch Tark and young Dinny being gutted. "Well," Jon said, "it's been -- been okay so far, getting eaten alive like this; but if you studs want to pick another fun way to get -- to get reaped out the rest of the way, yeah . . . I'll go for it, too."