CHAPTER EIGHT
It was getting worse. The fact that he hadn't slept all night was just
the least of Christopher's problems.
He'd been left alone on the second floor balcony, with no distractions,
for twenty minutes or more. He'd spent the time uncontrollably humping the
bench, penis wedged between his belly and the slick padded surface. He came
twice in relatively short order, turning the cushion into a slimy, slippery
mess, but instead of relief his symptoms seemed to be getting stronger; the
drugs he'd ingested apparently took a while to fully enter his system. Rather
than relaxing his body, by the time Chris had orgasmed twice he was powerless to
control his wild thrusting.
Two other men shared his predicament. He'd seen them earlier, roaming
their respective balconies. Once he started humping the bench, however, he
ceased to care about anything other than the feel of his cock against the smooth
bench seat. Presumably they were experiencing the same symptoms.
At some point he looked down through the balcony railing and noticed the
courtyard of the building filling up with white-robed women. They quietly took
seats on the long benches with very little talking amongst themselves. To a
person they were bald, and in identical white tongis. It almost looked, to
Chris' drug warped mind, that they were preparing for a religious service. In
another ten minutes, the pews, for that's exactly what they looked like, were
filled with bodies. All women, all bald, all in white. Chris guessed there
were at least forty of them in the courtyard, however it was a rough guess, as
he was never able to stop thrusting long enough to count to five, much less
forty.
Some time later he saw one long-robed, bald woman standing alone in
front of the assembled group. Her arms were raised, a large violet container in
one hand. Similar violet containers were being distributed among the seated
women, and when everybody had one, they briefly chanted in unison and drank
until their cups were empty.
The leader of the group then led them through a series of rhythmic
chants, or perhaps they were boring songs, in a language Chris didn't
understand. Probably the local dialect. It went on for some time, and began to
more closely resemble a church service, with the leader speaking and the group
responding en masse. The singsong chanting rose and fell, and Chris for one was
grateful for the distraction. Anything that slowed his urge to rut at this
point was welcomed, although he found it hard to focus on anything other than
the feel of the cushion beneath him.
He had no idea how much time had passed when he next noticed what was
happening on the floor. The chanting had ended, and the women seemed to be
getting restless in their pews. The leader had disappeared, but then Chris saw
her walk into view through a doorway near the front of the courtyard. She
called out loudly, and raised her hands. The congregation rose to its feet with
a collective rustle.
Tentatively following the woman, its pink nose sniffing the air, was a
grey fourlegged animal that reminded Chris of a large Terran canine but was
obviously something very different. Thigh high to the woman at the shoulder,
the quadruped had big floppy ears and wide padded feet shaped like saucers,
ideally suited for running across loose sand. The animal was a light dusky
grey, either hairless or with hair so short it was invisible from a distance.
Forty kilos, Chris guessed, with a long skinny tail.
Berto, with his much-maligned memory dump, could have told Chris all
about this creature. Nicknamed Danes, for their resemblance to the Terran
canine, they were Monsipur's largest life form, the only species native to the
planet that weighed over two kilos. Their short, fine coat did an excellent job
of blocking the sun's intense rays, and was amazingly soft to the touch. Danes
lived in packs, which sometimes numbered fifty or more animals, and were
nocturnal hunters. Berto could have told him they were popular pets, generally
smarter than the average dog, and easily domesticated.
What Berto didn't know, however, couldn't know, was that to survive in
the unforgiving environment of Monsipur, the Dane reproductive cycle had risen
to an amazing level. The females were always willing, and the males were always
eager to service. The original settlers discovered this little fact early on,
when, ignorant of the incompatibility of their DNA, wild male Danes entered the
small makeshift towns and did their best to mount every human female in sight.
The majority of these women's husbands spent most of their time away from the
rickety settlements working in the mines or at the atmospheric processors that
would someday tame the planet, so it was only natural that the women, while at
first annoyed by the frisky animals, liked the companionship the easily tamed
animals provided. Loneliness, and close proximity to animals with large and
very prominent organs that humped anything warm, weakened the settler women.
What happened next wasn't explained fully for years, not until
scientists performed tests on the Danes and found that their pheromones, the
airborne sexual attractants they emitted, affected human females as well as Dane
bitches. All these women's husbands knew, when they returned home weeks and
months later, was that their wives were getting mounted -- daily or better -- by
animals sporting organs bigger than theirs. Not all the women, but a lot of
them, enough so that a general slaughter of the animals began, and continued for
years. Eventually cooler heads prevailed, the killing stopped, and sex with
Danes was simply outlawed. The laws, however, were by and large ignored, and
rarely enforced. Presently, any single woman in Garshak that had a pet Dane was
assumed to be having sex with it. It wasn't a topic brought up in polite
conversation, but there was no longer any real social stigma attached to it.
However, the fact that having sex with Danes was still, technically,
illegal, caused problems for a lot of women, who saw it as a violation of their
personal freedoms. Most of these women kept their opinions to themselves, but a
few spoke out. There were others that let their obsession with the animals take
control of their lives, and, eventually, most of these women became DaneLovers.
The DaneLover Church, as they called themselves, was an underground
organization of women, thousands of them, spread across the planet. Instead of
defending the right of lonely women to seek pleasure in any form that didn't
harm another, i.e. sex with Danes, the DaneLovers became obsessed with the
animals and the power they had over women. The "churchwomen" became convinced
that the animals were somehow messengers of God, and were sent to us to show us
the true way. Although the beliefs of the church changed over time, the
founding members' idea that the Danes were a source of "purity" only grew
stronger. How this fit in with the Dane orgy that was the centerpiece of every
church service none of the members was quite sure, but that didn't slow them
down. The church members began ridding themselves of all body hair as part of a
purifying ritual, then drank large quantities of X-Cite-R and Breeder's Helper
before engaging in sex with multiple Dane partners. The women collected what
they could of the spent Dane seed, no one outside the church knew why, and then
joined with human males who had been proven unsullied. Their seed was also
collected.
Most I-Vid commentators thought the DaneLovers were a bunch of kooks who
just couldn't admit to themselves they liked having sex with animals and needed
to make something mystical out of the experience, and embarrassed the otherwise
normal women of Monsipur who liked having recreational sex with the friendly
beasts.
As the Dane slowly walked into view, sniffing the air furiously, there
was a collective sigh from the assembled women. By the time the fourth Dane
entered the big courtyard there wasn't a single woman in the audience who still
wore her robe. Underneath they were all nude, and began to move out from behind
the pews.
Chris felt the need begin to build again and had to bow his head as he
furiously humped the bench. In a few minutes he came again, further messing
both himself and the benchseat. He had to rest for a bit, sweaty forehead
pressed against the cool seat, and when he looked up again the courtyard was a
seething mass of flesh.
The hollow center of the building echoed with the cries of the women,
hopped to the gills on X-Cite-R and Breeder's Helper, as they were
enthusiastically mounted by the wild Danes captured just for this occasion.
There were perhaps a dozen of the animals in the courtyard, their impressively
large, midnight black members buried in willing church members. Those women who
hadn't been lucky enough to snag a Dane on the first round mostly just sat amid
the others, furiously masturbating. Cries of pleasure, long drawn out gasps and
moans, floated up to the balcony.
Chris watched in stunned disbelief the spectacle before him. The Danes
were all vigorously thrusting, forelegs wrapped around a human partner. Most of
the mounted were on their hands and knees, although a few had just lain back on
the benches and let the Dane take them that way.
While physiologically predisposed toward a strong sex drive, the Danes
weren't especially long lasting. Several minutes was all it took, then the
animal would stiffen against whatever woman he was inside. After a few minutes
downtime, the animal would be ready to go again.
The first group of women to be mounted began climbing to their feet
after only a few minutes. The Dane semen was white in color and very thick, as
might be expected from a desert-dweller. It oozed from some of the women as
they climbed the stairs to the balconies.
Chris stared from his position on the bench as a middle-aged brunette
stopped at the edge of his balcony. There were red marks on her ribcage from
the Dane's wide paws, and the insides of her thighs were wet. He sat back from
the bench, then stood up as she took a step onto the balcony.
"Join your seed with the pure one's," she intoned, her pupils wide from
the X-Cite-R. Chris rushed at her but she lithely sidestepped him and moved to
the low bench, kneeling down. The top of the bench was a sticky half-dried
tableau of semen. The woman, however, didn't notice or didn't care as she lay
her body across it. Chris was on her in a heartbeat, groaning in pleasure as he
found her wet folds with his second thrust.
He thrust into her furiously, laying across her pale back as his hands
were still bound behind him. So frantic was his urge to pump that he barely
felt her around or under him. She grunted with each of his thrusts, pushing her
ass out at him and spreading her cheeks with her hands. His eyes were locked on
the back of her neck, at the folds where her bald skull met the sloping curve of
her shoulders.
Chris came quickly, but barely paused ten seconds to catch his breath
before starting to thrust in her again. The woman, however, had felt his organ
pulsing in her in time with his spurts, and fought to her feet.
"No!" Chris cried, trying to hook her shoulder with his chin. She got
away from him anyway and scooted toward the stairs, a glob of semen falling onto
the stone balcony floor. Chris lunged to his feet and raced after her, only to
be brought up short by the sight of three other women lined up on the stairs,
waiting their turn. Bubek was the first one.
"Gimmee that stuff," she said, striding past him to the bench. She lay
on her back and pulled her knees up to her chest. Out of the corner of his eye
Chris saw lines forming at the other balconies too, even as he charged Bubek and
knelt before her offered purse of flesh. Dane semen, clear and thin, ran down
the crack of her ass. Chris plugged her back up and fell atop her, wildly
thrusting his hips. Bubek barked like a dog when she climaxed, he soon learned,
and liked to bite. Chris barely felt her teeth.
All that had been twelve hours ago. Chris was nearly delirious with
exhaustion. With just one break to drink several large cups of water, and
another where he was forced to drink more of the violet-colored devil's brew,
Chris had been scooping women all night and into the morning. He couldn't stop,
and they kept trudging up the stairs.
He'd fucked at least forty women already, although he didn't know if
he'd gotten to all of them. Many he'd done twice, several three times.
The women were exhausted too, but had drunk so much of their wicked
potion it didn't matter. They were covered in seed, both human and Dane, and
most wore red marks on the ribs in the shape of Dane paws. Their eyes were wide
from the high doses of Jack, and most couldn't have formed a complete sentence
if they'd tried.
After about ten hours most of the Danes had fallen asleep. The only
reason they'd lasted that long was the women had kept their interest up with
oral sex. Once in a while one would awaken from his stupor and approach one of
the women still in the courtyard, but for the most part, Chris and his
compatriots had assumed the duties of servicing the women.
They surrounded him on the balcony. His knees were sore and swollen
from kneeling for so long on the stone, so the women had pushed him onto his
back. One was gyrating madly on his cock while another was grinding her soupy
pussy against his face so hard he was having trouble breathing. He couldn't see
a damn thing. He could feel the woman on his right foot, trying to wedge it
inside herself. She was having some success. The rest of the women he could
only hear, moaning softly and breathing hard, as they masturbated and in some
cases fingered each other. There were at least a dozen of them on or around
him, waiting for their turn with his cock. They were all a mess, Chris
included, slick and shiny with sweat and semen and spit. The polished stone
floor was treacherous.
There was a burning ache in his loins that was uncomfortable, but wasn't
bad enough to deter or even delay his orgasm. He grunted against the sweaty
mound pressed into his face, squirting into the warm center of the woman
bouncing on his crotch.
Burning ache or not, the X-Cite-R was still strong enough in his veins
that he never totally lost his erection. The woman above him had felt his
spurts, however.
"Off of him, off of him," Chris heard, as both women on top of him were
pushed off. He blinked to see a massive woman towering above him. She was
built like a treestump, her thick body white as a cloud. She looked down at
Chris, licked her lips, and then lumbered over to the bench, massive breasts
swaying.
Chris struggled to his feet, eyes locked on the pink, deep cleft being
presented to him. He felt hands grab at him, bodies gravitating toward him. but
he'd locked on a target and didn't let himself get distracted. Chris lay atop
the woman's wide back and began thrusting. It was an automatic, almost
involuntary motion. He didn't even try to control himself anymore. As he
pounded mechanically, the woman snuffling under him and biting her lower lip, he
could see the other two balconies. They were just writhing piles of flesh, the
men buried somewhere under the orgiastic females. Down in the courtyard the
Danes were beginning to wake up, moving immediately to mount the women who had
been waiting for them on all fours, asses aimed toward the animals.
Chris saw no sign of the activity lessening, and wondered just how long
this could go on. He hadn't even thought to refuse the offered refill of
X-Cite-R earlier, but now a vague sense of worry troubled him. What would give
out first -- his heart or his penis? And, at some point, he'd have to sleep.
He wondered if they'd just push him onto his back and keep bouncing on his cock
while he slept.
He felt fingers on his ass and looked behind him to see a skinny woman
with flat breasts and pointy hipbones kneeling behind him. While he kept up his
thrusting she slid her fingers into his sweaty crack and played with his anus.
She was giggling uncontrollably.
"Hey now," he said to her. He stiffened as she forced two fingers into
him and began tugging on his balls with her other hand.
"Fiddly, fiddly," she giggled, using her unique two-fingered grip on him
to urge him to speed up. Directly behind her two women were locked into a
fierce embrace as they lay on the floor, grinding their smooth mounds against
each other's thigh.
"C'mon fiddly, give her that cock," the woman exploring his interior
directed Chris. She wasn't hurting him, but he was very aware of just how
easily she could. She was nearly out of control, and he wasn't sure he'd be
able to stop even if she began pulling his intestines out his ass. Chris
grunted as she pulled his balls back and forth, urging him faster. It felt like
she was digging for ore inside him, her fingers twisting and hooking. They
flicked across his prostate, then turned back and pressed hard. He grunted and
stiffened, spurting three quick times into the large woman beneath him. For all
her reaction she could've been asleep.
Panting hard and hoping for a minute's rest, Chris gasped as he was
pulled backward out of the woman by his testicles.
"Action already, Pandy," the skinny one said crossly. Ponderously the
big woman stood up and turned around, breasts swaying mountainously. Her vagina
had been as loose as a pantleg, and if it hadn't been for the probing fingers
Chris might've been thrusting into her for another hour before he was able to
climax.
Pandy moved aside and the skinny one hopped onto the bench. Preferring
to take him while on her back, she pulled him to her by his organ, and sunk him
home with a heel to his buttock.
"Oooh yeah," she said. Her fleshy glove was snug around him and danced
on his shaft in an impressive display of muscle control. "Let's put you to
use."
"Refill," he heard. He turned to see a woman, who he didn't recognize
but whom he'd probably already scooped, holding a white cup. He assumed it was
filled with more of the evil violet fluid. Even as his hips began their
thrusting he shook his head at her.
"Please, no more," he begged, his voice rough.
"Drink it, or you'll get it in an enema," he was told. "We can't have
you fading on us so early in the ceremony." There were two identical red marks
on her rib cage, the exact size and shape of Dane paws. She grabbed him by the
ear and jerked his head back. "Drink it, sperm bag," she growled, holding the
cup to his lips. She poured the fluid into his mouth and he drank reflexively.
When the cup was empty she patted him on the head and walked off.
"How much longer?" he gasped. The skinny thing under him had her ankles
crossed behind his back and was nibbling at his neck.
"Until the last of us has passed out from exhaustion," she purred into
his throat. She gripped his elbows and rocked her hips in time to his thrusts.
"At least two more days."
