Alien Invasion Ch 01

In the 1960s the United States government started a project called 'Far Side.' The project is unknown to most of the general public. The idea behind Project Far Side was really quite simple. The government would use a large radio device to broadcast messages into space. The messages broadcast would be simple patterns of energy. The patterns would be classical mathematical patterns that would identify them as being originated by intelligent life. The source of the radio waves could be traced by any civilization capable of receiving and analyzing the signals. The humans of planet Earth would announce to the universe, "We are here!"

Project Far Side is started with a bit of fanfare and then quickly forgotten by most of the world.

One group who don't immediately forget project Far Side are certain statisticians. They use astronomical data and the history of discovery of new civilizations here on planet Earth to project what might happen as a result of project Far Side. The statisticians discover that there will likely be several civilizations that will receive the radio signals. Most of the civilizations won't respond, for reasons that will soon become clear. A few civilizations will respond. The civilizations that will respond will be interested in one objective: the conquest of the Earth.

The statisticians bring their calculations to the attention of the United States government who discuss the matter briefly and then, not only shut down most of Project Far Side, but also start up other projects with exactly the same name to hide the fact that they had ever been stupid enough to start the original Project Far Side in the first place.

I say, 'shut down most of the project.' It is pointed out to the politicians that, although we of planet Earth are no longer broadcasting our greeting to the universe, there are still the messages out there that we have previously broadcast as a result of Project Far Side.

The authorities to 'come up with a solution to the problem' draft my first predecessor. The man, call him Zero, fails to solve the problem. He does, however, succeed in deploying a number of radio telescopes that will detect approaching interstellar vehicles, that is, spaceships. We of planet Earth can't defend ourselves against hostile aliens, but at least they won't take us by surprise!

There have been a few Zeros. Some of them come up with really great defensive ideas. One such idea is the use of death rays on the invaders. It is pointed out to Zero that we don't have any death rays [scratch one brilliant idea.] There are more Zeros and more impractical ideas.

You say, 'We are lucky that no aliens invaded planet Earth!' However, you are wrong. Aliens do invade planet Earth and are defeated. They are defeated by the heroic actions of legendary [if unknown on Earth] Wiking warriors and my defensive plan.

The problem with the first Zeros is that they are heroic, grim jawed military officers who try to think of a military solution.

I am the current Zero. I used to run a strip club that was little more than a front for a whorehouse. I am the Zero who develops the 'Strategy of the Twins.'

The reaches of interstellar space are immense and the first alien spaceship to reach Earth is a scout vessel. No, dummy, it is not piloted by a heroic lone scout! In order to run a spaceship you need an around the clock crew on watch for space debris, nova stars, black holes, things like that. The Geolan ship has a crew of 14. Since the Geolan are warlike, the scout crew is all young, male warriors. They have weapons of enormous power and a science that is millennia ahead of planet Earth. The Earth has only one practical weapon against the Geolan warriors and I deploy that weapon. Of course, the weapon of which I speak is pussy!

The Geolan scout ship follows a naive welcoming beacon down to a remote desert landing. Earth warriors greet them. Wiking warriors to be exact.

The savage Wiking warrior men wear metal helmets, armor to protect the torso, greaves to protect the legs and high boots. The Wiking women wear metal caps and ankle boots only. The Wiking warrior men brandish classified weapons that vaguely resemble laser swords. The Wiking women have only the weapons they are born with.

The Wiking women approach the Geolan ship with a clever message, in English, for the Geolans. The clever message is, "Hiya, big boy!"

You say, "Wait a minute! The Geolans can't be expected to understand English."

I ask, "Are you nuts? You have 14 studly young men who have been cooped up in a space ship for however long and they can't understand, 'Hiya, big boy!' in whatever language?" [Hello!!!]

One brave Geolan warrior leaves the ship to confront the Wiking women. The big-tit vixens pull him with them to the chant of, "Wanna party big boy?" The Lone Geolan is joined by three more of his heroic companions whose answer, in Geolan, is, "Fuck yes!" They yell back to their ship, "If it's a trap, tell HQ we went down fighting to the last Geolan!" [No, idiot, I don't speak Geolan any better than you do. However, place yourself as a young, horny Geolan warrior on the ship. Clear now?]

The four are led off to a splendid Wiking feast. The Geolans have some sort of tester that fortunately identifies the food as fit for Geolan and also accepts the Wiking booze as fit for Geolan to drink. [If the food and drink were not going to be edible, the advanced science of the Geolans would not have sent the ship to Earth in the first place.] However, the Geolan warriors don't test the Wiking pussy before they eat that!

The party starts with joints of roast meat and flagons of good bourbon. [Yes, dammit, flagons; these are warriors!] As the party gets rolling, the Wiking women start to practice their religion. Turns out that Wiking women worship cock. The ceremony involves taking a hard cock up their pussy and turning the potent weapon into a soft, friendly guy.

The Geolan warriors adapt to the religious practices of their hosts. The Geolan warriors fuck tight young Wiking pussies after a ceremony that provides the Geolan warriors with their first English words, "Sixty nine!" Every time a Geolan warrior shoots his cum into a Wiking woman, a Wiking warrior matches the feat with another Wiking woman.

The Wiking women prove insatiable. A Wiking woman finishes with one warrior, Geolan or Wiking and hurls herself at another with the traditional cry, "sixty nine!" It is observed by the Geolan that the correct male response seems to be, "cream pie!"

The Wiking women are indeed wild women! When a Wiking woman gets a warrior's cock hard, she lets him know, with her teeth, that she needs a cock, not a tongue in her tight young pussy. At first it is a polite nibble, then it very quickly gets to be a kind of nasty demand. If a warrior can't respond, the Wiking woman's answer is get up and dump a flagon of bourbon down limp boy's throat.

After a night of very hard partying, the warriors, Geolan and Wiking and the Wiking women sleep under the stars in the warm desert winds.

In the morning, the Geolans are wakened by the cries of, "sixty-nine!" The badly hung over Geolans don't do too well.

However, the same Wiking warriors and Wiking women are hard at the sixty-nine ceremony and the Wiking Warriors are still shooting cum into Wiking woman pussies.

Failure on the part of a Geolan warrior is met with a scornful lecture on the part of the Wiking woman. The lectures are, of course, not really understood. However, the Geolans do obviously determine that 'wimp' is not a good thing to be in Wiking society.

The Geolan warriors limp back to their ship with wild tales of Wiking women who can't be satisfied by the Geolan plus the Wiking warriors who can drink and fuck all night and then go at it just as hard in the morning.

A new quartet of Geolan goes forth to conquer the savages. As before, they are greeted with the, "sixty-nine" cry and they perform as well as Geolan warriors should. However, a Geolan warrior who mounts a Wiking woman doggy style finds a Wiking warrior similarly mounted alongside him, doing even better and shooting the same kind of cum as the fresh Geolan warrior.

After a wild morning, the Wiking warriors challenge the exhausted Geolans to athletic contests. The Wiking warriors kick butt on the Geolans, although they have matched the Geolans fuck for fuck and even exceeded the Geolans.

The second wave of Geolans limps back to their ship, as had the first wave. The third wave finds the same conditions as had the first two waves of Geolans. As their fellow warriors have told them, they find fresh looking Wiking warriors still fucking Wiking women and Wiking women tending to themselves with dildos.

Another night, another orgy. The third wave of Geolans observes that not only do the Wiking warriors sixty-nine with the Wiking women, but that the sex crazed savages sometimes try to mount a Wiking woman without the obligatory sixty-nine first. This always results in an angry outburst by the Wiking woman and then the proper sixty-nine ceremony before yet another Wiking warrior climaxes in another tight young Wiking woman pussy. The savages have unbelievable strength and endurance. Unfortunately, the Wiking women expect the same strength and endurance of the Geolan warriors.

The situation has become a bit tense and the third wave of Geolans is replaced with the final two Geolans. The third wave of Geolans then limps back to their ship.

The two new Geolans watch as carefully as they can, under the circumstances, but it is always the same Wiking warriors and the same Wiking women. There are no substitutions among the savages.

The Geolans descend into drunken sleep that night. In the morning, the hung over Geolans are once again greeted with the "sixty-nine" cry. The savages have been drinking and fucking for two days and two nights and they are neither hung over nor show any sign of fuck fatigue, either among the Wiking women or the Wiking warriors.

Worse yet, the Wiking warriors not only are not worn down by their heroic fucking and endurance pussy eating, they are preparing for some sort of ritual combat. This time, there are to be no wimpy athletic contests, it is to be Wiking laser sword against the Geolan weapons. The Wiking warriors, clearly completely restored by perhaps six hours sleep are almost ready for combat. However, first they will need to warm up with a bit more "sixty-nine."

Brandishing their weapons the Geolans make it back to their ship pursued by Wiking woman. The Wiking women make no secret as to what they want, gesturing with crude, savage motions that they need more cock for their unsatisfied pussies.

The women are driven away from the ship by warning blasts from some sort of energy weapon aboard the armed scout vessel. The Wiking women leave, but they make their displeasure known with many, obviously crude, sexual gestures and an air of total contempt for the Geolans.

Although I have no way of knowing for sure, obviously the Geolans return to their home world [worlds?] with the message, "A great place for an overnight pass, but you wouldn't want to try to live there."

After the Geolans leave, my Wiking people return to me. Of course, all of them are identical twin pairs. One twin parties while the other twin goes through detox and something called Russian sleep in which the body is electronically forced into deep sleep by EKG waves tuned to sleep pattern. Thus a Wiking woman can party for a few hours to the edge of exhaustion, only to be replaced by her identical twin. Similarly, a Wiking warrior can fuck again and again, stoked by pills, and then recover while his twin does the same thing. The alcohol isn't the problem that might be imagined, as the Wikings eat little, burning the alcohol off while they engage in sex.

Of course, the Geolans don't realize that they are competing against a relay team and leave with the impression of savages of an unknown technical level, but unbelievable strength and endurance. Of course, the Geolans have never really examined the Wiking weapons, but that fact will be covered up in the carefully worded reports. Soldiers do not return from a long, expensive mission only to report that they fucked the time away with the friendly but demanding natives. Also, the lack of evaluation of the Wiking weapons would mean that the final combat the Wiking warriors proposed was to the death. No sane culture attacks warriors of legendary strength and endurance who bear weapons of great power.

Thus, the planet Earth is saved by, well not force of arms. Let me just put it this way, planet Earth was saved by use of traditional weapons.

Now, if I can figure out a polite justification for the extreme number of male sexual enhancement pills we used, planet Earth will be ready for the next wave of alien invaders.