Wild Alien Thirst
Jump deeper into the frenzy: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Chapter 1: Jungle Crashdown
The ship’s alarms screamed like banshees as the hull buckled under atmospheric fire. I gripped the controls, sweat stinging my eyes, tasting the metallic tang of fear on my lips. Lena Voss, star-mapper extraordinaire, reduced to this—hurtling toward a godforsaken jungle planet in theOuter Veil sector. The viewscreen flickered with green haze, endless vines whipping past like angry serpents.
Impact hit like a lover’s slap turned brutal. Metal groaned, twisted. I blacked out to the symphony of crushing leaves and splintering branches. When my eyelids fluttered open, humidity slapped my face, thick and cloying, laced with the rot of overripe fruit and something muskier, primal. Birds—no, alien screechers—called from the canopy, their cries echoing wild through the mist.
My flight suit clung, ripped at the thigh, exposing sweat-slick skin. I stumbled from the wreckage, legs wobbling. The air hummed with insect buzz, and underfoot, the soil squelched, warm and alive, pulsing faintly. What the hell was this place? Sensors had marked it uninhabited, a rogue world in wild orbit.
That’s when I heard them. Footfalls, heavy, thudding through underbrush. Not human. Too rhythmic, too… hungry. I spun, pulse racing, and caught glimpses—tall shadows weaving between massive fern fronds. Their skin shimmered emerald in dappled light, bodies corded with muscle, eyes glowing amber like forge embers.
Zorath. The name bubbled from half-remembered xenobiology logs. Feral traders from the fringe worlds. Legends spoke of their wild appetites, enslaving crash-landed pilots for… sport. No. I bolted, branches lashing my arms, drawing thin lines of fire across flesh.
They swarmed silent, vines from their wrists snapping out like whips. One coiled my ankle, yanking me down into the muck. I thrashed, tasting dirt and bile, as rough hands—scaly, hot—pinned me. Their scent enveloped me: earth and salt, potent cock-musk already stirring unwelcome heat low in my belly.
“Human female,” one growled, voice gravel over silk, breath hot on my neck. “Prime for the pens.”
I kicked, screamed, but they dragged me through the wild tangle, my body bumping over roots that bruised like eager fingers.
Chapter 2: The Enslavement Mark
The village hit me like a fever dream. Huts woven from glowing bioluminescent vines perched on stilts above steaming pools. Air reeked of smoke from cook-fires mixed with that same musky alien reek, now thicker, making my head swim. They stripped me there, under torchlight that danced shadows across my bare curves—full tits heaving, nipples pebbling in the humid draft.
The leader, Korrath, loomed tallest, his cock already half-unsheathed from a genital slit, thick as my wrist, veined and throbbing with inner light. “Strip her clean,” he barked. Claws raked my suit away, nails scraping nipples till they ached. I shivered, exposed, pussy lips slick despite the terror—traitor body.
They bound me spread-eagle on a stone altar slick with moss and old fluids. The crowd gathered, males mostly, their shafts emerging like awakening beasts, ridged and crowned with flared heads that wept glowing pre-cum. Females watched too, lithe and smirking, fingers teasing their own slits.
Korrath leaned in, his tongue—forked, rasp-rough—lapping my collarbone. Tasted salt and fear. “You’ll serve, little wild-crash. Our thirst demands it.” His hand cupped my mound, fingers probing folds, finding the wetness. I bucked, hating the moan that escaped.
The marking came next. A heated rod pressed to my hip, searing a spiral glyph. Pain bloomed white-hot, then morphed to throbbing pleasure, like fingers stroking my clit from inside. Chemicals? Pheromones? My cunt clenched empty, juices trickling down ass-crack.
“Feel it burn into your soul,” he murmured, thumb circling my pierced clit—wait, no, he’d flicked something there too, a barb that sang with every heartbeat. Internal thoughts raced wild: God, I hate this. Want it. No.
Night fell as they paraded me caged through the paths, villagers groping freely. A hand pinched my ass, another milked a tit till droplets beaded nipples. The wild jungle symphony—howls, drips, rustles—mirrored the chaos in my veins.
Chapter 3: First Wild Feeding
My pen was a woven cage dangling from a massive tree limb, swaying gentle like a perverse cradle. Dawn light filtered gold through leaves as the gate creaked open. First client: Thorne, a brutish scout with scars crisscrossing his chest, cock fully extruded now—two feet long, girth of a forearm, pulsing blue veins promising ecstasy or agony.
He hauled me out, slamming me to knees on loamy earth that smelled of fresh rain and cum-stains. “Suck, slave,” he rumbled, gripping my hair—dark waves tangled with leaves. His shaft hovered, heat radiating, tip bumping my lips. I gagged at the scent: salty ozone, wild honey.
Resistance flickered. I pursed lips tight. But the mark on my hip ignited, a fire-ant crawl straight to my core. Body betrayed, mouth watering. Tongue darted out, tracing the flare. Velvety ridges yielded then gripped back. He groaned, hips flexing.
“Deeper, wild bitch.” His words fueled shame-lust. I hollowed cheeks, slurping the length, gagging as crown hit throat. Saliva drooled chin-ward, mixing with his pre—sweet, tingling on tongue like illicit spice. Hands pumped base, feeling it swell wild in my grasp.
He fucked my face then, brutal rhythm slapping balls—scaled, heavy—against chin. Wet chokes filled air, my pussy gushing untouched, thighs slick. Visions flashed: me, explorer queen, reduced to cock-sleeve for aliens. Hotter for it.
Climax built in his shaft, veins throbbing manic. “Take seed!” he roared. First spurt blasted throat—viscous, cherry-warm, flooding senses with euphoria. Swallowed convulsing, more painting tongue, lips. Excess dribbled tits, marking me further.
He withdrew pulsing, smearing remnants across my face. Patted cheek almost tender. “Good start, wild one.” Left me kneeling, humming from the load, cunt aching for fill.
💋
Chapter 4: The Pack Ritual 🔥
By noon, word spread—I was prime stock. Korrath summoned for the pack rite, a new ordeal no logs mentioned. Dragged to central pit, ringed by throbbing Zorath, shafts rigid in anticipation. Torches sputtered oil-smoke, stinging eyes, ground pitted with claw-marks and fluid pools.
They oiled me first—slick unguent from fermented pods, smelling of musk and berries, hands everywhere kneading tits till swollen, pinching nips to peaks. Fingers plunged cunt and ass, stretching, prepping. I writhed, moaning curses, “Fuck you beasts,” but hips ground back wild.
Positioned on all fours over a furred mound, ass high. First Zorath mounted rear—Rax, his cock spearing pussy in one thrust, ridges dragging walls ecstatic. “Tight human hole!” he grunted, pounding relentless. Balls slapped clit, sending shocks up spine.
Front: another, Vex, fed me his meat—thinner, whip-like, coiling tongue as I sucked. Duo rhythm synced, skewering me airtight. Tastes mingled: pussy juice on his skin, ass-musk from probing tails.
Crowd chanted low, drums booming primal. More joined—hands milking tits, tails whipping ass red. One cock nudged thigh, another frothed pre on back. Cum splashed early from onlookers, hot ropes glazing skin.
Rax swelled, flooded womb with seed—gallons it felt, bloating belly, leaking out frothed. Pulled free gape-squelching. Next instant filled, no pause. Vex erupted throat, choking bliss. Rotated hours? Wild haze blurred. Body quaked multiples, squirting arcs into dirt.
Ended coated, pooled in jizz-lake, marked theirs. Korrath lifted chin. “Ritual binds you deeper.” Internal: I’m lost in this wild fuck-depth. More.
Chapter 5: Solo Wild Ride
Sunset brought private service—Korrath’s hut, walls pulsing biolum, air heavy with incense haze that loosened limbs. He lounged on silks, shaft erect like obsidian spear, flared head weeping invitation.
“Mount at will, slave.” Command laced challenge. Mark burned enticing. I straddled slow, knees sinking cushions soft as cloud-moss. Gripped base—scalding, velvet-steel—aligned slit. Descent burned stretch-delight, ridges popping inner rings. “Oh fuck… so wild thick,” I gasped, first words mine.
He chuckled rumble, hands claiming hips. I rode tentative then feral, grinding clit on pubis rough-scaled. Juices frothed shaft, slap-wet echoing. His tail snaked, tip probing ass—slim, then thickening, double-penetrating bliss.
Senses overloaded: taste his skin on lips from kisses forced-deep, tongue-fucks trading spit; scent our mingle-sweat; sight his eyes rolling amber wild; hear grunts syncing moans; feel every vein-pulse milking my walls.
Chased peaks together—he bucked up brutal, me slamming down. Climax ripped me, vision white, cunt spasming vise. His load jetted geysers, painting cervix, overflowing hot. Collapsed atop, heart hammering tandem.
Afterglow hummed. “You’re mine now,” he whispered. Guilt flickered—husband back home? Faded quick. This wild enslavement hooked soul-deep.
🔥
Chapter 6: Rebellion’s Wild Reckoning
Weeks blurred servicedaze, body honed pleasure-machine. But explorer spark ignited—midnight slip from pen, stealing glow-crystal for light. Jungle wilder nocturnal: biolum beasts prowling, vines carnivorous snapping air.
Near crash-site, ship husk beckoned. Panels sparked hope. Fingers flew circuits—almost… then trap sprung. Vines—wait, tails—yanked wrists, hauling back. Korrath waited, fury-veiled lust.
“Naughty wild pet.” Punishment: entire pack again, but tethered mid-air from limb, body swing-suspended. Shafts invaded every hole—cunt double-stuffed, ass two tails twisting, throat gang-fucked. Endless rotations, cums cascading like monsoon.
I screamed orgasms raw-throated, squirting arcs glistening moonlight. “Punish me harder!” begged broken. They obliged, claws raking light, teeth nipping tits blue-bruised.
Dawn broke, lowered cum-caked to Korrath’s feet. He entered final, slow mate-bond thrust, our eyes locked. “No more runs. Embrace the wild thirst.”
I nodded, spent ecstatic. Ship dreams gone. Here, in alien wilds, I throve—slave, queen of cocks. The jungle sang approval, eternal rhythm of flesh-meets-flesh.
Future beckoned more rites, offspring maybe, deeper depravities. Body hummed content, marked forever his—theirs. Wild alien thirst quenched? Never. Just beginning. 💋
🔥 (Echoes of moans lingered in the canopy.)
