Mission to Planet Pisori

Report: Mission to Planet Pisori

Preface:

I am a space traveler. Call me by my given name, Damagon Busoni, my Space Exploration I.D. is #SEx93650. This is the year 2351. The Earth has fortunately progressed to a peaceful state for over 200 years, ever since President Jeb Sanders signed the Geneva treaty of 2043 which divided the world into three parts: Africa and the Mid East became know as Isislandia, Europe including the old Russian states and North America became known as Disneylandia, while South America and Mexico were effectively walled out and are known as Wallandia. Non-the-less, Wallandia is being considered for statehood in 3 years as a result of continual illegal immigration that has seen the construction of numerous giant catapults along the 2400 mile wall that are able to shoot immigrants wearing parachutes safely right over the Disneylandia wall. If fact, the motto of Wallandia is "You build it - We'll jump it."

One hundred years ago, my ancestor Chester Busoni discovered the algorithm that led the way to convert mass into an electron stream so we might travel the near universe without archaic rockets but instead with a pure beam of light that only requires a small apparatus for focus and direction and reconstitution; we call this apparatus the Zeflon Light Racer.

For 48 years I have traveled the universe studying other life forms.

This is my report to the Executive Earth Committee on the Planet known to its inhabitants as Planet Pisori or as listed in the Interplanetary Log as Planet #44ki78je29u02pi.

The Planet Pisori exists in the Wharton Nebula, named in honor of a past Disneylandia President's college. It is a Grade 3 Planet, about the size of the Earth's Moon which I might add, as I observed on my last moon trip, that place is so crowded you can't even find a parking space near a Chinese Massage Parlor.

The atmosphere on Pisori is similar in the ratio of Nitrogen and Oxygen but slightly more nitrogenous than on the Earth, but obviously as we learned, humans can survive.

Pisori has three small moons, the result of a near collision with a large asteroid when the planet was still a volcanic mass of iron and assorted precious metals shortly after the Bing Bang (formally know as "the Big Bang"). Pisori is one of 14 planets and three planetoids that circle the Star Aspain. It is the only planet with intelligent inhabitants, although other biological entities do exist on those orbs that are a safe distance from the scorching star. The Star Aspain was noted in the Ancient Egyptian's hieroglyphic charts, and it is one of the few Solar Systems on the tip of the Milky way that were visible in Ancient Times. Due to the nature of the expanding universe they are no longer visible from earth.

There does exist the remote possibility that the Egyptian Dog God, Gofusalot, (later co-opted by Disney) was based on an early Pisori space mission which was terminated prematurely due to the low level of Earth culture and the Egyptian habit of eating Green Scarab Beetles, which the Pisorians thought revolting, though when they tried it they had to admit they were tasteful.

The population on the Planet Pisori consists mainly of fungus (their food source) and soft skinned fully articulated pliable-vertebrae creatures somewhat resembling superficially what are called "Canines" on the Planet Earth. Although the Pisorians have four feet, they ambulate in an upright position on their two rear appendages. A large colorful corona tail adds to their balance. Their "hands" are long and well articulated consisting of 7 powerful "fingers" that permit them to pursue high levels of technology and artful forms of self-gratification. Their level of culture is in some areas far superior to ours, particularly in areas of computer advances and socialization. Their pursuits in the arts and music are not that impressive, although some critic might disagree. To the uninitiated, it sounds as if Little Richard singing Mozart. However their architecture is monumental and far more advanced based on self-replicating carbon forms that are programmed at a molecular level with a repetitive memory. They simply spray the applied chemistry at a building site and create marvelous colorful edifices that are completed after a day's work.

The Pisorians are not interested in travel. You might call them homebodies more interested in intellectual pursuit and extreme sexual activities. The Pisorians don't greet other by the shaking of the hands; instead they sniff the air around the other party's exposed primary underarm genitalia with their large flexible olfactory organs, which look like bulbous red noses. They do this to determine if that other individual has had sex recently. If so they cough approvingly and flap their hands in a bird-like manner.

The Pisorians only revert to what are best described as barking noises during acute sexual excitement when they will intersperse the barking with snippets of obscene French porno expressions that they have garnered from their study of our Earth Internet Porno sites.

As I might have mentioned, or perhaps not, they have no need of clothing as their bodies are covered with stubby feather-like hairs that have an assortment of rainbow colors; in fact they refer to themselves as the rainbow people (loosely translated). When involved in sexual activities their colors change continually encouraging others to follow suit.

Most interesting is their anatomy. Their bones are very pliable and if they so desire they can squeeze under most objects they encounter. Their reproductive sexual organs lie hidden under their arms, in their armpits, and when engaging in coitus they hold the right arm aloft (if they are pseudo male) or the left (if pseudo female), and a small knob pops out to do the dirty deed. The Pisorians distinguish sexual gender in this manner, as right or left hand rather than male or female, although they are all hermaphrodites capable of self-reproduction should they wish. Their non-hermaphroditic coitus somewhat resembles the concept of intercourse on Earth as one Pisorian sinks his armpit into another's, they clasp hands and each deposits eggs into the other party's "pit" that afterwards begins to grow. Gestation is accomplished in about 30 days and the young are born fully formed although miniaturized and take approximately 30 years to become adult.

The Pisori are quite fluent in English due to their watching of Earth TV for centuries on satellite discs that pick up the signals from Earth in their never-ending passage through hyperspace. In fact, watching Earth soap operas and reality TV is their national entertainment. They can't believe any society would have such crazy persons. "Gilligan's Island" is a favorite program watched by the young ones during their gestation period. At the age of one year, electronic compufeeds are inserted into their earlobes and thus interconnect with their two lobed brains that surprisingly are not in their heads but hang forward from their chests as if they were breasts, which they closely resemble. A brainy Pisorian who has matured is said to be "well stacked."

The "I Love Lucy" programs are very popular on Pisori with adults. "My Three Sons" is never watched as the Rainbow people consider one child to be sufficient and most will remove their sexual apparatus in a form of self-mutilation much like earth women after 5 or 6 years of marriage when sex becomes a distasteful antique habit. Of course there are exceptions and certain Pisori, the "Lapu-i" which loosely translates as "The Happy Folks" will continue having sex right up to the day they die, which is usually a span of some 342 Earth Years, enough time one would think to get tired of sex.

I did have more than one unusual experience when welcomed into a Pisori household. On that occasion I was studying the "charimata" ritual of the "people" raising their arms in greeting. I found this to be a coded sexual greeting much like earth school child flirting, in which several Pisori greeted me by squirting their love juice all over my last fresh Earth T-shirt with a logo of Maroon 5. This ruined the shirt even though I used Oxymoron powder to clean it; sadly it was never the same.

Then to my surprise, the Pisorians ushered me into a darkened area where they undressed me before I could even object. When the lights went back on I witnessed about 200-300 or perhaps there were even more Pisorians going at it like Indians on the warpath (I hope that comment is politically correct). Then someone yelled out, "Fuck the Earthman" and they converged on me raising their arms and deluging me once more in Pisorian love juice showering me from head to toe. This time I was without the protection of my Maroon 5 t-shirt and I was totally drenched. I had thought our human earth DNA was incompatible with Pisori DNA, but in 7 days I realized I was pregnant. A canal materialized and opened up under my arm and formed a sort of kangaroo pouch. In a few days I began to feel motherly and observed several tiny creatures crawl out from under my arm. These fetuses seemed to know where they were headed and would attach at night to my nipples, which had enlarged and were now able to produce milk like substance. And you think casual sex on Earth leads to problems?

At a certain point I felt I had adequate information to complete my report but as my nucleon generator was burnt out in my Zeflon Light Racer; no one in Pisori wanted to help me repair it; they just want to fuck me. I needed a metallurgist and a skilled wielder, to help me with the repairs, so I was, in fact, marooned much like Robinson Caruso but with plenty of saluting companions. For the moment, I thought, I will have to see to raising my children and that will keep me busy on Pisori for at least 20-25 years.

My final effort to get some help fixing my space transport involved a trip to the public enclave, a communication center much like a Craig's Listing Office, and there I wrote an advert asking for a technician skilled in repair. Then, much to my surprise, I ran into another Earthman, Ivan.

Of course, Ivan was a Russian. It seems that the Russian KGB had stolen the Zeflon Light Racer transport plans from the American Rocket Propulsion Institute and had cobbled together a working version of the Racer. Ivan was sent as a sort of test monkey once the racer was built. Borrowing the same space-time coordinates as were in our plans, he arrived in Pisori some years before my trip. In their haste to construct the gyro-activator they made the error of confusing the plus with the negative and reversed the required polarity on the Russian model. Although Ivan's apparatus was in good shape, he could not reverse the light force fields to return to earth. Unfortunately for me, Ivan was a raging homosexual who was so horny he could not take his hands off of me once we met.

Although I find man-on-man sex repugnant, I knew if I did not play along there was no chance of putting our two apparati together and getting back to the home planet. As Ivan was an Alpha gay, I had no choice but to cater to his whims and in the months that followed I swallowed enough protein to develop a really radiant complexion.

Once he had me on my knees, there was no chance of slowing things down. To Ivan, oral sex was just an antipasto to his real desire; that meant I had to play the part of a willing bottom. This was difficult as Ivan had a very large Russian cock, if you have had experience with those you know how large and red they can get. It's not for nothing that the Russians are called "Reds." The resulting anal trauma is something I would wish on my worst enemy but in all honesty I eventually got used to it and I'm embarrassed to admit I began to initiate his activity by placing his giant cock at the entrance to my ass and sitting on it even before he indicated he was ready. He had said in his rough Russian accent, "try it you; you'll like it," which I though was "try it, you'll lick it," but he got that straightened out pretty quickly by grabbing me by the hair and forcing himself down my throat.

I guess it was one thing to adapt and accept this hung giant's cock as my master, but on the Planet Pisori there is no privacy, the buildings resemble transparent giant warehouses with few separating modules or walls and as a result our frequent couplings or oral experiences were always observed by hundreds of Pisori citizens in the Grand Ball Room. In fact, when they would see us enter they would contact all their friends in different parts of the huge room telepathically announcing that "the pornographic entertainment" had arrived. They would sort of bump us to the center of the Grand Ball Room where there was a raised platform and they would cheer us on as if we were soccer players. Naturally when Ivan came, I mean "came" as in ejaculation, being a Russian showoff he would play to please the shouting crowd of onlookers by pulling out his enormous erect red cock from my mouth and giving me a full loaded facial or a tit wad. At that moment, a cheer would move through the hall and hundreds, if not thousands of Pisori would raise their arms above their heads and drench us in their cum juices, it was like taking a cum bath but since the taste and texture were pleasant, a decent vanilla yogurt flavor, we had no choice but to adapt to that inconvenience as well. Of course we had learned by this time to keep our arms close to our bodies so our armpits were not fecundated.

At a certain point, when Ivan, by his own admission could no longer live without his daily in and out of my tush, sometimes as many as three times, I began to refuse to provide relief from his sexual desires until he had accomplished something I wanted (this is an old earth wife's trick) i.e. to get him to help me meld the parts of our two apparati so we might end up with one that functioned and might transport us back to earth. During this entire time his large balls turned blue and he constantly reminded me of my failure by pushing his cock and balls out of his space pants so they were in continual view. In the end this proved too great a temptation to me and I stooped to remedy our mutual frustration.

I can't tell you how long it took to complete our project, I am referring to the reassembly, as Ivan's mind was usually zeroed on one thing, and it wasn't rocket science. Eventually we cannibalized the two apparati and ended up with one working model, none to soon as I was developing hemorrhoids and cheek sores.

When we finally bid goodbye to the Pisori, who didn't seem to care about our imminent exit, we hopefully entered the apparatus. I had no choice but to sit on Ivan's lap, as there was only one seat. Ivan decided to take advantage of the 29 minute transport time to nail my ass again, unfortunately we arrived back on earth just before he was ready to cum and a the same moment he pulled out, we materialized at the Jet Propulsion Rocket Lab and General Icadinka Trump, pulled open the door a little too abruptly and was hit in the face with a Russian cream pie that was not at all what she was hoping for. Vice President Kelsey Clinton was on hand and she stepped in to wipe Icadinca Trump's eyes clean fearing Ivan's intergalactic cum might blind or Trump her (a common expression meaning to insult). Once the commotion was over we were led away from the video news cameras. Of course CNN played the tapes that night over and over embarrassing me to no end other than my own. Although Fox "burnt" the footage deeming it unfit for Replicon (the new name for the old Party of Lincoln also known as Republican.) Mitt O'Reilly almost quit over Fox's refusal to televise the proceedings, as he believed Ivan's actions were indicative of the Russian's desire to master the universe as they were already mastering Disneylandia. Of course that was absurd, the only thing that got the worst of it from Russia with love was my ass.

The public was quite enthusiastic over our return and we were given a Broadway ticker tape parade several days later, instead of tape the sky was filled with cream pies and cannolis.

This whole tour and parade with news spots was too much for me and I decided to take an early retirement as I'd been credited with the long stay on Pisori and felt worn out by those events. And Ivan had no intention of letting me out of his sight.

In retirement I soon learned to practice yoga and my ass hole has stretched sufficiently through time to accommodate Ivan's continual yearnings, if only he could stop singing "Das vi Dayna" loudly in my ear until he cums, then all would be right in the world. Of course on arrival, having flunked the physical, a surgeon was called in to laser off my hemorrhoids.

Ivan and I don't get much attention down in what used to be the Meat Packing area of Manhattan where we live in a new sky rise owned by Fox Entertainment called Obamaslam, which has a statue of the old revered President Obama sitting on his drunken father's lap in an old Buick 88 Roadster, while his dad downed a bottle of Scotch. As I was saying, we don't get much attention now because a stowaway Pisorian, who we were unaware of, had arrived with us on entry into the earth having squeezed himself between the floor pier and the navigator controls and hid himself in our module (whether he was a right or left and has not been reported). This Pisorian has captured all the public's curiosity. I guess it is just a fad that will pass but for months now, all the kids are raising their arms these days in a modified Nazi salute instead of the high five we all were so comfortable with.

Oh yes, of course I brought my children back with me; they fit snuggly in my armpit like baby possums in a pouch at the time but they are growing faster in the oxygen rich atmosphere here on earth and now my big concern is should I send them to public school or charter school or home school them? If you have any suggestion please comment. Ivan is already teaching them Russian and I guess being bilingual is an advantage; it certainly has helped me deep throat-ting Ivan's huge red cock.