Naed Planet

Author's Note: This is a science fiction series featuring elements of reluctant/forced sex. This chapter contains anal, slapping, name-calling, and humiliation; a woman is coerced into sex against her will. The explicit style tends more toward pornography than erotica; depending on your tastes, it may not be for you. Please read at your discretion.

2.1

Gwen groggily opened her eyes. She groaned as she looked around, straining to make sense of her surroundings: cracked glass and sparking control panels, the plaintive wailing of wounded machinery, and the smell of smoke. She was still in the shuttle. Something was pulling at her head; eventually, she realized it was gravity. She was upside down.

Wade was still strapped into the seat beside her, unconscious. Gwen unbuckled her own harness; she screamed as she tumbled straight onto the damaged front windshield. The shuttle was inverted and pointed down; only a few centimeters of damaged glass separated her from whatever was outside. As she rolled onto her back to distribute her mass evenly, she told herself that the window was rated for space and atmospheric flight; surely it could stand up to her weight? As if in reply, the glass cracked loudly around her hips. She whimpered.

She flashed back to her sister on Earth, taunting her for eating too much pound cake.

Now is definitely not the time!

she scolded her brain. Breathing deeply, she slowly reached out to the loose harness dangling above her head. Wade was finally coming to; his neon-green eyes widened at the sight of his crewmate lying supine on the windshield.

"Gwen! Hold on, let me—"

"No, don't!"

It was too late. Wade undid his restraints, and he cried out as he dropped directly onto Gwen. The glass crunched threateningly. For a moment, he was perched atop the young science officer, head buried in her chest like an overenthusiastic lover. He pulled himself up, cupping her ample breasts in the process. He looked mortified by the situation. She stared at him, arms wrapped instinctively around his waist, and thought that his body felt even skinnier than it looked.

And then they fell through the shattering windshield.

Gwen and Wade screamed as they dropped to what they assumed were their imminent deaths. The trip, however, was mercifully short and nonlethal; the entwined pair broke through several layers of thick vines on their way down, their terrifying descent stopping and starting multiple times before they were dumped unceremoniously on a mossy jungle floor. The two rolled apart, panting and groaning as they recovered from their frightful introduction to the ground.

"Holy smokes..." breathed Wade.

The shuttle was a dozen meters above them. Its scarred hull, seared from entry through the planet's atmosphere, was lodged in the lower boughs of a massive, arboreal organism. The thing was blue-green, gnarled, and the size of a high-rise building; its limbs, sprouting thick from the trunk, gradually split out into fine networks like giant capillaries. The xenobiologist in Gwen was not sure if the alien lifeform could be called a tree, but it looked enough like one to suffice. A tree it was, she decided—at least for now.

Before she could investigate further, an ominous creaking noise sounded above her head. The shuttle lurched down toward them, the strange branches rapidly losing grip of the battered vehicle. Gwen and Wade scrambled to their feet to dodge the plummeting wreck. It missed them narrowly, quaking the ground as it slammed into the dirt with a deafening thud. It balanced on its nose for a second before belly-flopping, right side up, in front of its erstwhile passengers. They stared at it, dumbstruck.

"I was wondering how we were going to get to our stuff..." said Wade finally.

The two spent the next few minutes packing critical supplies and equipment: a radio, a pistol with some ammunition, signal flares, a headlamp, a portable navigator pad that was thankfully undamaged, emergency rations, water, and a first-aid kit. Shuttle One was the backup vehicle, a lifeboat, and not as well provisioned as the one Alpha Team had intended to use for their survey mission. Gwen and Wade would have to make do. A brief attempt to raise someone, anyone on the radio yielded nothing. They split their items between two backpacks and prepared to head out for Prosperity, the lost colony on this planet.

Gwen had sustained a minor cut on her cheek; she carefully applied an adhesive strip to her wound using a shard of broken glass as a mirror. She loaded the pistol with a dozen individually loaded, explosive rounds before strapping it to a utility loop on her hip. It was a heavy, blocky weapon designed for signaling and survival against wildlife, not sustained combat. She hoped she would not have to use it; she had never used a firearm outside of training. She doubted whether it would even be effective against whatever dangers lived in the local habitat.

"I still can't believe you were punching coordinates while our ship was

exploding

," grumbled Wade, hoisting his pack over his shoulders. "We almost died! Like,four times."

"Oh, quit your whining," said Gwen dismissively, silently verifying Wade's count in her head. "We're fine. Besides, my coordinates got us within ten klicks of Prosperity." She held up the reading on the navigator with a satisfied smirk.

"In a crippled shuttle that nearly crushed us—after we crash-landed."

"

Details

. We made it here in one piece, didn't we?"

She looked around in awe, her scientific inquisitiveness taking hold. Strange chirping echoed through the jungle around them, caused presumably by whatever were Inanna's equivalents to birds or insects. It still felt unreal to her that she was on another world, and not just a common, lifeless rock. Sure, she had read the scientific reports coming out of Prosperity, but seeing the place with her own eyes was an incomparable experience. It almost made her forget the ordeal of the past few hours since awakening from cryo-hibernation:

Her rowdy crewmates. Meeting with her commander.

Sex.

Fire and explosions, and the destruction of the

Tempest

. The crash landing. Little did she know how much rougher—and raunchier—her adventure was yet to become.

2.2

Gwen and Wade followed a winding path through deep, unfamiliar foliage. Countless enormous trees, like the one that had so abruptly ended their shuttle flight, loomed over them in every direction, obscuring their view of the daytime sky. The vines and eerie limbs graciously blocked out Inanna's bright sun, the star Ea, but also trapped an oppressive amount of heat under their thick canopies. Little winged creatures darted between the high branches but were too far away for her to make out clearly.

The two walked an hour in silence: she, occasionally glancing down at the navigator to ensure that they were still on course; he, grunting from time to time as he tripped on a rock or stepped clumsily on uneven ground. The device beeped steadily. It was the size of a small book, and its main display showed a spinning green arrow indicating the heading, as well as the distance to the given coordinates. Nine kilometers. Then eight. Then seven.

The air tasted rich with oxygen. The dirt beneath her boots was rich and loamy; and her step felt a tad lighter than she was accustomed to. Gravity on Inanna was almost imperceptibly weaker than Earth's. The conditions here, it appeared, were ideal for humans.

But it was hot. The temperature was close to forty degrees centigrade beneath the dense vegetation cover. Beads of sweat had formed on Gwen's forehead. She looked back at Wade, who trudged sluggishly behind her. He seemed unused to physical exertion; breathing heavily, he moved with a jerky, labored gait as he struggled to keep apace with her. She was not very tired, but she decided to take a break for his sake. They stopped at a bizarrely misshapen log covered in purple moss, where she set down her pack and stowed the navigator in a side pocket. No end to the vast jungle could be seen.

"All right, let's pause here," she said.

Wade followed suit. He plopped down on the ground in an exhausted, sweaty mess, sitting cross-legged as he gulped his water. He watched as Gwen planted a boot on the log, assuming a languorous stretching pose. She casually unzipped her jumpsuit and peeled down the top half of her uniform, tying the sleeves snugly around the waist. Underneath, she wore a black sports bra that stretched tightly over her chest and upper back, covering little else.

Wade gazed at her, mesmerized. She looked like a goddess. A mane of lustrous black hair cascaded luxuriantly down her back. Her smooth, muscular limbs glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. The closefitting jumpsuit suggested shapely and powerful hips, the epitome of feminine strength. She had a big bust, which now stood out even more against a tight, bare midriff as she took a sumptuous sip from her canteen. She caught him watching and cast a scolding glare in his direction.

"Stop staring at my

siski

," she said in a faux Russian accent, mustering up her best impression of the Alpha Team leader who had so loved to harass her.

Wade flushed red at the playful rebuke. "I wasn't staring," he grumbled, looking away.

"Okay," said Gwen with a doubting laugh. "It's not a big deal, you know. It's just, if you want to creep like all the other guys, try not to make it so obvious, okay?"

"A creep?" said Wade, his voice filled with hurt. "So, I'm a creep, huh?"

"Wade..." she started to chide, but he cut her off.

"I was the only guy on the ship that didn't treat you like a... a sex object! You know what Misha and those other jerks were doing while you were with the commander? They were taking bets on how long it would take you to, to..." He motioned vaguely toward her pelvic area. "And then they were laughing and arguing about who was going to... to

have

you next!"

She put her hands on her hips. "Nobody can 'have' me, Wade."

"Yeah, well, I told them that, and they just laughed. And then I called you and the commander to prove to those bastards that nothing bad was happening, but you... you..." He trailed off, his voice shaky with anger.

Gwen's averted eyes betrayed her as she spoke. "Look, I don't know what you think you heard over the intercom, but there was noth—"

"The intercom?!" Wade scoffed incredulously. "We could hear you

from the mess hall!

Gosh, it was so loud... Everyone was laughing at me."

Gwen narrowed her eyes as she approached him slowly, until she was right in his face. "Did that upset you, Wade?" she said in a quiet voice, her tone verging on mockery. "That all the other boys were making fun of you? That somebody wrecked the good, wholesome girl that you were hoping to be more than friends with?"

He seemed to recoil at her words. "Why do you like jerks? I was

nice

to you, Gwen. Those guys—"

"Wade. I'm a twenty-four-year-old brunette with big tits.

Everyone

is nice to me. If I fucked every guy that was nice to me, I wouldn't be able to stand!" She exhaled sharply. "Look, Ellison wasn't going to let me go on this mission with Alpha Team, unless... So yes. I slept with him, okay? But it's not because he was a jerk. It's because he had something I needed. I needed

this

," she said, waving at the trees around them. "And it was just sex. That's life."

"So that's what it takes to get lucky with you," said Wade, disillusioned.

"Lucky?" Her eyes widened. "Ellison is

dead

. And you're alive. I'd say you're the lucky one." Her voice was firm and harsh.

He stared, speechless, his enhanced green eyes whirring quietly, before he finally gave a huff. "Well. This 'lucky' guy won't be burdening you any longer. I'll find my own way."

Gwen had to stifle a blubbering laugh. "Where are you going? We're on an alien planet without any support, you're— Wade, come on, don't be silly!"

But he had stormed off in a random direction, pack on his shoulders. Gwen sighed in frustration. His immature reaction might have only elicited mild annoyance had they not been stranded, with limited supplies, on an unfamiliar world. This was hardly the time for quarreling or splitting up. But she would not chase after him and indulge his childishness, she decided. If he wanted to break off, that was his loss, not hers.

She stared at the remaining pack by the log—the one without a navigator in its outer pocket.

"Fuck," she said out loud. "He took my bag."

2.3

Exhaustion was finally beginning to set in when Gwen found the waterfall. She had been walking the past hour, following the general heading she last remembered. Wade was nowhere to be seen, and she had the only radio. She had no way of knowing whether she was still on track; she hoped she would find some sign of the colony soon. Of course, there was no assurance that anything remained of Prosperity.

The water roared crisply over a tall cliff into a natural basin. The pristine water reflected an iridescent green against the smooth rocks forming the pool. Gwen found it a welcome sight for her hot and sweaty body. She dropped Wade's pack. She stopped at the edge of the gently babbling water to refill her near-empty canteen, treating it with an iodine tablet from a ration package before drinking slowly, cautiously. Perhaps it was her thirst, but it tasted perfect.

Gwen splashed cool water against her forehead and face. She stared at the basin, tempted, looking around to see if anyone was nearby. She only heard that same unearthly chirping in the trees. After a long pause, she unstrapped the pistol from her hip and placed it on the ground. She unlaced and kicked off her boots. Loosening the sleeves around her waist, she unzipped her jumpsuit all the way, and finally peeled it off her hips.

Underneath, she was wearing just a pair of thong panties, black like her top but slightly sheer. The back showed off shapely, toned buttocks that tapered gracefully into trim, muscular thighs. She pulled the sports bra over her head and tossed it aside, baring her big, round breasts. She dipped her feet into the water one by one, tentatively at first, before lowering herself into the pool. She sighed contentedly at the invigorating sensation.

She was hip-deep in the water. Holding her nose, she immersed herself completely in the water, tossing her wet, black hair over the shoulders on her way back up. After splashing around for a bit, she eased into a languid breaststroke, briefly forgetting her surroundings. Eventually she found a flat, submerged rock near the waterfall. She sat down on it, her back leaning back against the edge of the basin, waist just above the waterline. She shut her eyes, only the sound of roaring water in her ears, and exhaled in satisfaction.

She massaged her limbs and abdomen, innocently at first, but then more and more sensuously. As she felt that familiar urge down there, she tried to think up some inoffensively romantic fantasy, but suddenly, unwillingly, she found herself back in Commander Ellison's quarters on the

Tempest

. Stripped. Submissive. Ready for sex. Her hand crept beneath the water, gently tracing the v-shaped outline of her vulva. She stroked her labia through the thin fabric of her thong. She grasped a breast and slowly squeezed it, circling her nipple with her forefinger.

Naughty little slut

, he had called her, proving his point right then and there. She bit her lip as her breathing grew heavy. She looked around again. Nothing around the basin except native flora: little bushes covered in violet, star-shaped leaves that formed a natural privacy screen. The part of her mind not obsessed with indulging base urges made a note to study the odd plants later.

Afterward

. Her hand disappeared down the front of her panties. She found her clit.

Gwen splayed her thighs wide on the underwater rock, planting her buttocks on the flat surface as she caressed herself, her movements strained and frantic. The water churned chaotically as she punished her clit. She moaned contentedly. She recalled the sheer size of Ellison's manhood: how hard it was, how full in her wet, willing pussy it felt. She felt her pleasure rising. She rubbed faster and faster, biting her lip, whimpering pleadingly for an orgasm that seemed just around the corner...

She stopped and opened her eyes.

"Wade," she said to a suspicious rustling in the bushes, "you can come out now."

"Unfortunately," replied that unmistakable Slavic accent, "Mister Thompson is not here."

Gwen whipped around, hands clapped over breasts, to see Misha Vasilievsky standing over her, arms crossed. He wore a black shirt that showed off an impressively muscled torso, jungle camouflage trousers, and tan combat boots. He had a sleek submachine gun slung across his chest and a large survival knife strapped to his utility belt. A malicious grin materialized on his face as he inspected his topless colleague.

"Misha!" exclaimed Gwen. "You... you made it. We thought—"

"That we perished in explosion?" said Misha. "We also thought

you

perished!"

We?

wondered Gwen. "That's... that's good. Wade and I got out in Shuttle One just in time. He and I... we had a disagreement. We got separated."

The young science officer rose from the water, feeling quite exposed in just her skimpy thong as Misha looked her over approvingly. She reddened as her team leader licked his lips at the sight of her body. She was strategically covering herself, but she knew her slender palms could only hide so much. She spotted her clothes (and weapon) lying at the other end of the basin.

"So... you are alone."

A pang of eroticized fear shot up through her. Gwen knew well what the Russian wanted. He had made plenty of attempts to bed her before, but now he had finally gotten her all by herself, and she sensed he was serious about it this time. She bared her teeth at him, a primal gesture of defiance, before making a dash for her belongings. She dodged sideways, narrowly evading his grasp, and dove toward her pistol. She had come within arm's reach of the weapon when a boot came down on it. She looked up to see Danny Ransom's smiling, mustached face.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" he teased.

Just her luck. Of all people, she had to run into Misha and Ransom, the two perviest members of the

Ziusudra

crew; and judging from how their eyes roamed over her scantily clad figure, both were after the same thing. She stood. The Texan, she noticed, was shirtless, oiled and rippled pecs gleaming in the alien sun, but was otherwise dressed like his Soviet team leader, who had caught up behind her and held her by the shoulders.

"Looking for this?" drawled Ransom, dangling Gwen's pistol in her face before strapping it to his belt. "Don't worry, baby. You're among friends. You don't need protection with us." He grinned ominously. "We're gonna take

real

good care of you now..."

2.4

The men took Gwen to a nearby glade, ideal for their purposes. The clearing was shaded from the afternoon sun and relatively cool; and the soft, mossy greenery made for a natural mattress. Within seconds, their clothes and equipment were eagerly scattered in a disorderly pile on the ground: boots, belts, camouflaged trousers, socks, weapons... and soon after, a woman's thong.

"You know," said Misha, looking on as Gwen was stripped of her last article of clothing, "Boss said I should accept you on Alpha Team. He said American girl, eh, 'good for morale.'"

Gwen sat on the moss, naked, with the team leader behind her, her arms pinned behind her back, legs clamped together in a desperate bid to stop the inevitable. Her magnificent breasts jutted out indecently, her stiff, aroused nipples a stark contrast to her flushed cheeks. She was revolted, but she was also scared; she had never been with two men at the same time. Ransom yanked her panties off. She tried not to stare at his engorged, massive cock pointing up at her. He held the flimsy black thong to his nose, inhaling deeply before tossing it away.