NOTE:  This and all preceding and subsequent chapters
are copyright 1993 by Milford Ray Slabaugh.  All rights
reserved.  Permission is hereby granted to post this story
to other BBS'es, provided it bears this language.
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			     PLANET OF DESIRE

				Chapter 23
			"I Have Executed a Traitor"

     [AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm going to stop the heavy "accenting" of
Pvt. "Alabama" Gorman's language.  You got the picture by now, I'm sure.]

     Captain Swenson had a surprise for Ivan, and Ivan
grinned with pleasure when he saw it.  It was a Space Scout
uniform.  The badge of his rank was handmade but well-made,
and Ivan was quick to strip and put it on.  The zipper went
up and Ivan felt strangely at home and misty-eyed.  
     "I'm glad to offer this little gift for your service
with the Marines, Captain." Vid said.
     "It's wonderful to be dressed again.  But where?"
     "Salvage from a crashed ship.  They do come in from
time to time, you know.  This one was about the same time as
yours, from what I can gather, and came in via, uh, the
patrols."
     "Oh." Ivan worried.  Did some fellow Scout of his
suffer the ignominy of the rape gangs?
     "Also, we'll provide all of you with proper equipment. 
You four may journey to the Temple, and I'll send Martin
with any other volunteers later on.  I'm presuming, Captain
Paskov, that you're in a bit of a hurry to leave us."
     "Thank you, sir." Ivan saluted again.  
     It wasn't that quickly settled, but by the end of the
day, the four men were on their way across the rebuilt
bridge and into the jungle, furnished roughly the same as
the other expeditions.  David was going with them, but
leading a separate group that wasn't quite organized.  David
had urged him to forge ahead.  "We'll catch up in no time,
you'll see." he had said confidently.
     Ivan felt odd carrying a rifle; a Scout was to watch
and report back, never to fight.  Other than that, he was
back in service and back in form.
     A short distance from the base and he called for a
stop.  "Andrew?"
     "Yes, Ivan?"
     "It occurs to me that we aren't giving ourselves some
proper exercise."
     "I thought you were enjoying your new clothes too much
to think of that." Andrew smirked.  He reached up and
unzipped Ivan's suit as Ivan shrugged off his pack.
     "Can we join you, sir?" Gorman said.  He had his cock
out already, and its red and engorged state showed he had
been flogging it for a while.
     "That's a really mean monster you got there, Private."
Ivan said.  Andrew was kissing his way down his chest, his
moist tongue weaving a warm path as it did.
     "Your's isn't so bad yourself, you know."
     Jablonski chipped in.  "Actually, I was noticing how
much alike they are."
     "Really?"  Ivan said.  Andrew had taken out his cock
and moistening the tip, and it was agony to detach the juicy
mouth from his penis, but Ivan was curious.  "I never
noticed.  Gorman, let's do some measuring."
     Gorman stepped in close and Ivan laid his cock on top
of Gorman's, pushed in his ass so that his cock butted
Gorman's abdomen.  Gorman's cock nestled into his ballsac
with the same move.
     "Hm.  Pretty close in length, anyway." Ivan tried it
again by stepping in closely to Gorman, adjusting his stance
so that their balls were intermeshed, and the cocks held
tightly together in his hands.  "You're right, Jablonski."
Ivan said.  "They seem to be a matched pair."  Same length,
same girth, same general configuration down to the very
foreskin.  The thought turned him on considerably.
     Jablonski and Andrew were taking care of each other's
hard-ons, turned on by this display.
     "So, sir, if I was to suck your cock, I could tell how
it is when someone sucks mine?" Gorman seemed to have the
same intense interest in the matching.
     "Sounds about right." Ivan said.  "Let's try it out."
     "What about us?" Andrew said plaintively.  Ivan cast a
quick glance, but Andrew was smiling widely; he wasn't
serious.
     "I'm sure your buddy wouldn't mind helping you out on
that." Ivan said.  "Right now, I want to see what it's like
to suck on my own cock.  As much as anyone can do that."
     Ivan lay back on the jungle floor and Gorman was quick
to scoot into position beside him.  Ivan looked at Gorman's
cock with a new eye.
     It really was a big cock, and Ivan felt a new respect
for Andrew and the others who could take such a monster into
themselves so easily.  Ivan had taken this schlong into his
butt on a few occasions (at Gorman's insistence), but never
had he faced the prospect of giving it a blow-job.
     Gorman was nibbling at his cock with the same
trepidation.  Ivan got an idea, and matched Gorman's actions
nibble for nibble.
     Gorman groaned and Ivan felt his cock engulfed in
Gorman's mouth.  He hastily milked his saliva glands for
lubrication and matched Gorman's thrust.
     Gorman seemed to be trying to take the entire cock down
his throat, and Ivan felt his cockhead squeezed by the
throat muscles as Gorman rammed it ever deeper.  Ivan was
hard-put to keep up; his entire mouth was filled with cock,
but he persevered, taking Gorman's cock ever deeper.
     Gorman reached the base of Ivan's cock at last, and
Ivan made a desperate hunch to match it, feeling Gorman's
balls come to a slapping rest on his chin.  All the way down
each other's throats now, they were holding their cocks all
the way down each other.
     It was like deep-throating yourself, Ivan found.  The
sensations were identical and overlapped in his brain, to
suck on the big private's big cock and feel it duplicated on
your own organ.
     Andrew's groans were right above and behind Ivan.  "Oh,
God, Ivan, that's so hot, you suck a big cock so well, man,
uh, uh, ugh!" And Andrew's load sprayed over them.
     "Yeah, Andy, cover them with your come!" Jablonski
urged.  "Keep flogging my cock, I'm about to come and I want
to shoot it on those two myself.  Keep flogging!"
     Andrew panted for a time, then said in gasps, "Come on,
Paul, shoot it on them, shoot it, man, spray your come on
top of my lover.  Spray him good."
     Jablonski grunted and Ivan felt more hot splashes
inundate him.
     Gorman was hunching faster on Ivan and Ivan matched him
thrust for thrust, finding it a very effective combination
on his cock and determined to give Gorman as good as he got.
     Gorman's cock heated in his mouth, a fierce heat that
Ivan knew orgasm was imminent.  His desire to keep their
lovemaking on a duplicate keel seemed to extend to his
subconscious, for as Gorman began to groan, Ivan found his
own orgasm mounting in his brain and his own grunts squeezed
past the huge schlong imbedded in his throat.  As Gorman let
fly, Ivan sent his own load into Gorman's throat.  They
bucked and thrashed in a unity of motion, for their brains
had been tricked and confused into considering the two
bodies a single unit, and was cooperating even in ecstasy.
     Done, Ivan milked at Gorman's cock for the final drops,
and Gorman sleepily reciprocated.  Ivan found himself
reluctant to let go of this cock that seemed to be a part of
himself.  But Andrew's voice was reminding him of Andrew's
existence; a presence he didn't want to ignore.
     He lifted up on one elbow and said, "Andy, how about
giving me a hand up?"
     "Too weak to move?" Andrew grinned and extended a hand.
     Just as Ivan took the hand, there was the smell of
ozone and a blast of laser light chopped through Andrew's
body, cutting him in two.  To his intense horror and
disbelief, Ivan found himself blood-sprayed by Andrew's
death, and Andrew came to rest partly on top of him, his
eyes glazed over and unseeing.
     "Andrew!" Ivan screamed and crawled/hunched/squirmed
from beneath him.  He got to his knees and looked down at
Andrew's face, oblivious to anything else.  
     In the movies, there is always a bit of life left in
times like these, a chance to say farewell.  But reality has
never considered last words important enough to spare its
impetus.  Ivan had no chance to say goodbye to Andrew, no
chance to hear any words of love from Andrew's lips.  That
quickly, that simply, that horribly, Andrew was gone, stolen
from him forever, leaving only a bloody husk behind.
     Ivan looked up from his dead lover to see who had done
this horrendous deed, determined to make them pay regardless
of the cost to himself.
     "I have just executed a traitor." was the first words
from the killer's lips.
     It was the Colonel.  Very much alive and well, holding
a laser pointed at Ivan's face.
     And behind him was Lieutenant McElby and several other
Marines.  The deserters, the gang-rapers.  Led by the Mad
Colonel.
     Ivan's rifle was behind him and it was foolish for him
to think of reaching for it.  But Ivan was no military man
despite his term of service; Scouts see little direct
military action.  They are always ahead of the fleets; they
may get shot at, but always respond by running.  Ivan had no
training in how to respond.  He only knew that he wanted to
kill the man who had killed Andrew.
     Just before Ivan, who had gathered his body to spring
for the rifle, could move, more laser shots rang around
them.
     Ivan threw himself to the ground (his training included
this, at any rate) but the shots were not aimed his way. 
They cut down the Colonel and the renegade Marines; who were
caught from the side.  Some tried to pivot, but lasers are
brutally fast in their killing.  Only one who has hidden
ahead of time has any chance to avoid them, and these
Marines were clumped together.  They fell like rows of wheat
beneath a scythe.
     When all was quiet again, Ivan, who had gotten his
rifle, dared to raise his head to see what had happened.
     The renegades were all dead, their bodies a bloody mass
of confused and intermixed body parts.  The Colonel lay a
short distance ahead of them, nearer to Ivan.  Like Andrew,
he had been chopped neatly in two.  A laser's favorite way
of killing.
     There was a tramping from the bushes, and their
rescuers came into sight.  It was David, leading the other
volunteers for their mission.
     Ivan remembered his duties.  "Jablonski?  Gorman?"
     "Here, sir." Jablonski said.
     "I'm fine, sir." Gorman said.
     "I guess he only wanted Andrew." Ivan said.  He looked
down at Andrew's body, and his mind felt oddly numb.  There
was no feeling at all.  "I don't know Marine protocol. 
Should we bury them here?"
     "We should take Andrew back to the base for a proper
funeral."  David said, and there was sympathetic pain in his
eyes.  Ivan looked at him like a picture in an album, of
someone you knew long ago.  "He deserves that."
     "Yes, you're right." Ivan said.  He looked from David
back down to Andrew, at the blank eyes and the still form. 
He moved Andrew's legs and abdomen, to match it to the chest
and upper body, like matching the pieces of a puzzle.  As if
that would make everything all right again.  When a toy
broke, you put it together again, and it would go.  But
people aren't toys.
     Still, Ivan found himself trying it.  Angry when it
didn't work, when Andrew didn't get up again.  
     When the mind blocks emotion, any emotion, once
expressed, breaks free the others.  And anger is an emotion. 
It broke the floodgate, and Ivan felt the tears began.  He
leaned over, rested his cheek on Andrew's chest, and cried
like he hadn't since his childhood.

                      END OF CHAPTER 23
                       TO BE CONTINUED