When humans discovered the Altarra system, finally, there seemed to be a solution for Earth's overpopulation and pollution problems. But when a small population of indigenous life forms were discovered on the planet, the fateful decision was made to breed them out of existence.
The Altarrans were tall beings, seemingly non-verbal. They stood almost 8 feet tall and were smooth, hairless and dark gray. The color of a seal. They had a humanoid head but no eyes and a hideous mouth tube that could extend out like the beak of an octopus. They had long dangerous tails like that of a stingray, and on their abdomen were rows and rows of wriggling tendrils.
Oddly enough, after studying their species, it seemed as if they only had one gender - what humans would call female. They had vaginas. They carried their young. They had reproduction organs, but it looked as if Altarrans could self-impregnate by dropping an internal ovum into their tubes to begin pregnancy. They had no need for 2 sexes. For sexual pleasure, Altarrans would hug and their stomaches would rub against each other allowing the tendrils to interlock.
Altarrans were highly violent toward humans. Of over 100 encounters, all resulted in human/Altarran fatalities.
When Jackson opened his eyes, he found himself floating naked in a tank of green liquid. His memory was hazy but he remembered he was part of a team of Marines chosen by Earth Government and The Corporation to work with an alien creature being housed at Memex Station, orbiting Altarra. His memory was hazy because he was just born a month ago in a cloning tank on Luna.
There was history here in Altarra system. A freighter, The Cranston, was lost in this system, after discovering alien life. The Company had finally secured an alien at a great loss of life.
That was 200 years ago. When Jackson looked left and right, he saw the other members of his team, some still unconscious, others waking, all nude and floating in their tanks.
A few minutes later, the tanks began to drain, and four Marines were 'birthed' onto the slippery cold floor. Jackson gave his team a once over and was amused that they were all well built and well hung. They could have all been UFC wrestlers, he thought, and wondered if that was how they were bred - with genes from Earth cage fighters and porn stars.
Jackson saw a tidy rack of towels beside each tank. He toweled off his body of the green goo.
A smart looking older woman in a lab coat walked into the room with a clipboard, her gray hair in a bun. She looked at the four men and yelled, "Men, fall in!"
They lined up before her with towels around their waists. By rote or habit, they called out in sequence:
"Jackson!"
"Miller!"
"Eckhardt!"
"Kuwata!"
"Gentlemen, I am Doctor Hoffman, head of R&D. You are on the space station Memex." She paced in front of them, and then behind them. "Let me be frank. You are Marines from the clone corps. That means you are dispensable. But it also means you are expensive, perfect specimens of human males. Perfectly muscled and aged at 21, you are perfect fighting machines. You have also been bred with unique capabilities - night vision, a high pain threshold, and.." she coughed delicately, "sex organs that erect at will."
"You were created during the last Martian insurgency when some general thought a tactical rape team would crush the resistance and spirit of the rebels. Ethnic cleansing. After the war, the Earth Government banned you. Sex is no longer a weapon. Fortunately, The Corporation saved a number of your embryos and that's why you're here."
Jackson nodded at her. "So what are we doing here, m'am?"
Dr. Hoffman kept pacing, not making eye contact with any of them. "We have in a cell, a female Altarran - we named her Tara. You've all read the background documents. You know what they look like. You know their battle capabilities. What you do not know is that this station has attempted DNA extraction for years. The Corporation is hoping that one day, the successful gene-splicing from the Altarran will create better soldiers, better humans. In fact, a tiny bit of your own DNA was derived from the Altarran to hide your human scent."
The men were surprised, they exchanged looks.
"You were created for this task. Tara the Altarran is calm in the dark because she has no eyes - your eyes can naturally adjust. The Altarran can detect its own kind - we're hoping your DNA will confuse or trick its senses into believing you're one of them. And with the complexity of the Altarran's DNA, we have calculated it needs multiple deliveries of ejaculate to impregnate it. We've calculated the Altarran needs four. Sex, in this case, is very much a weapon."
Miller, a redhead rumored to be descended from Prince Harry himself, spoke up, "What the hell? You want us to impregnate it?" He shook his head, "You want us to fuck it!"
Hoffman kept pacing, "We need direct breeding. Attempts at trying to sedate the Altarran for its eggs resulted in many fatalities. The creature is not mammalian or reptilian in the human sense. She has a hard and slippery exoskelton - think of a crab or lobster. She will only open her vaginal cavity if she is sexually excited. The Altarran has rows of swimmerets on her lower abdomen - like micro-tendrils - which extend when she is excited. Your sperm will fertilize her eggs. She will lay those eggs and those eggs begin the next cycle of Altarran reproduction."
Eckhardt shuddered. He had studied them. Altarrans were nightmarish creatures. It made him sick that they were supposed to breed with it. He took a menacing step toward Hoffman. He was made of the genes from Henry Cavill, an actor who had played Superman back in the 21st century. "What if we scrub this mission, fuck and kill you instead?" He dropped his towel and showed off his glistening erection. He reached down to cup his balls, squeeze his shaft and waved it at her.
Hoffman nodded and smiled, "We have bred you all with kill-switches. Don't threaten me again or else we'll get another 4 of you."
Eckhardt laughed, immediately softened, and wrapped himself back.
Kuwata was made from the genes of a Japanese male model. He stroked his chin and shook his head, "Multiple deliveries of ejaculate. So you mean..."
Hoffman nodded again, "You four have to work as a team, distract the Altarran, stimulate her, and then each of you must mount her and deliver your load as quickly as possible to fertilize her."
"Shit! We have to gangbang an alien!" Jackson laughed. He was blonde and muscular and looked like Thor.
"So here's a problem," Miller pointed at his comrades. "If we're all freshly bred from the tank, then we - how do I put this - have zero experience in these matters."
"Ah yes," Hoffman agreed, "You're all virgins. But you will be provided with porn to understand the anatomy of sex. You have biological instinct. You will study videos of the Altarran. You will watch videos about different positions so you can all work as a team."
The men laughed. "Fucking suicide mission." "No, suicide fucking mission." They shook their heads.
"I told you this is a high risk mission. You may not survive. But if you are successful, you will all be given early, honorable discharge..." she ignored their laughs... "property on Titan, stock in The Corporation, and enough financial reward for you to never work again."
The men talked among themselves but Hoffman went to the side of the lab, pressed a panel in the wall and a large bed slid out. She undressed in front of them.
"In the meantime, men, your first time won't be with an alien. Line up and present arms!"
The men dutifully lined up and dropped their towels.
Hoffman smiled at the line of waving erections. It would be anyone's fantasy to have sex with any one of these specimens, perfectly proportioned with matching Marines tattoos on their shoulders. "You think you know where to put that, Marine?"
"Anytime, anywhere," Eckhardt growled. He fucked her first in missionary position. When he came, he came loudly, and she wasn't sure if he was having an orgasm or enjoying a long piss. He hopped off her to let the next guy on. Hoffman smiled how they grunted, cheered each other on, especially as they happily stirred themselves in her, sloppy seconds, thirds and fourths. When they had each had a turn, she ordered them to lie on their backs so she could ride each one of them, reverse cowgirl. As each of them came, they high-fived their friends.
This isn't a Marine squad, they're like a bunch of frat boys at a whore house, she smiled. They each finished in her doggy style. Three positions. Then, like shy schoolboys, they sat on the edge of the bed to let her suck each one of them off.
She mused that their penises were identically shaped and angled - curved 8" with big swinging balls. They all tasted the same. These mighty men collapsed in their orgasms in fewer than 10 strokes. But with four of them, they offered her muscular bouts of sweaty tag-team coitus. They fucked without any consideration or wariness of her own orgasmic needs. They could just fuck until they shook with a shuddering orgasm. And that's what they were designed for - not studs, not super lovers, but strong men who could deliver their ejaculate as quickly and as efficiently as possible.