INTERSTELLAR HUMAN PETTING ZOO: POSSESSIVE ALIENS by Renard Loki

Author:Renard, Loki
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven - WELCOME

Tarkan

“TARKAN!”

I don't know where I am when my name is shouted. It takes me far too long to come to my senses and realize that I am lying on my back. 42 is sprawled over me, her pussy still wrapped around the head of my cock. She has a fuck-drunk look on her pretty face, her body covered in sweat.

“You were so good,” I praise, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. She makes a vague noise and shifts slightly, slipping from my belly down to the bed.

The leash remains around her neck, a reminder of the way she arched and trembled when she felt that go on. She liked that. She likes being kept on her knees. She likes giving me everything she…

“TARKAN!”

Reaper is pounding on the door.

“Coming!” I call out. It’s not what I want to call, but I’m in far too good a mood to start fighting with Reaper right now.

“Get some sleep,” I murmur, unnecessarily. 42 has already drifted back to sleep. I get up, wipe myself down and put some pants on. There’s no hiding what we were doing. The way 42 and I were screaming probably left little to the imagination.

Reaper better have a damn good reason for interrupting my post-coital relaxation period.

“Where are you!?”

“Bridge!” He calls out as he stamps back that way.

I follow him there, where I find the instruments going completely mental.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re coming into range of the planet,” Reaper says. “It’s broadcasting a signal. Repeatedly.”

“What’s it got to say?”

“Not what I expected it to say. I thought it would be a warning to stay clear of the planet. Threats of missiles and things. It’s not that at all.”

“Threat of worse than missiles? Mega missiles? Ultra death? Are we going to fight an army of millions? Or a million armies? Will it involve horse sized ducks?”

I could question him forever, mostly because I know it annoys him, and as the second hatched broodkin, it is my duty to annoy the first born. It is a sacred duty, one I have been skimping on lately while I've been distracted by 42.

Reaper presses the intercom button. The signal sends an image to our screens, a big pink splash of color with the word WELCOME plastered across it in comforting thick letters. What follows is a series of images of waterfalls, oceans, lava lakes, which are probably supposed to be pleasing even though we’d be melted in them if we tried to dip our toes in them the way some aliens pictured are.

WELCOME! The voice declares. It is a rich, warm, comforting voice which makes me feel immediately calm. It’s the sort of voice you’d want to hear from your captain if you were on Earth on a plane, at least, before Earth was transformed into a wasteland without any kind of air travel whatsoever.

WELCOME, TRAVELERS! YOU HAVE ARRIVED AT THE OUTER LAYER OF THE INTERSTELLAR GARDENS, A ZOOLOGICAL AND CULTURAL PARADISE CONTAINING THE RAREST AND MOST PRECIOUS SPECIMENS AND ENVIRONMENTS FROM ACROSS THE UNIVERSE.

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