Monarch Glow took quick steps in his assigned bedroom on board the spaceship, his military uniform's pocket not containing a souvenir from a dead foe.
If he was fortunate, that would change today.
Either way, the enemy would die sooner or later, today.
The target belonged to an race that made Earth's Hitler seem as nice as Buddha.
The target and his entire race had to be destroyed. They were too evil to live.
"Remember, this one, like thirty-nine others, worked on an school assignment that involved forcing siblings on Earth to have sex with each other. And before that, the assignment was one involving making a human mother have sex with her son. The school assignment involving incest is over. For now. And yet, our target still has his sights on another Earthling brother and sister pair. Today, we end his brutal work and save two innocent siblings." Raden said in the spaceship's auditorium, the dim lights in the room soft against his human skin. He wasn't a human by birth, like Monarch, not an obvious alien. Monarch had the desperate hope he would be as tough as the eight-feet tall, orange Martian seated beside him. "I know some of you haven't killed yet. But as a defender of this vast universe, you would have to spill blood. The Plutonians don't even deserve to have a name that isn't 'monster' or 'savage beast'. They won't hesitate to spill your blood. They won't hesitate to force a son to have sex with his own mother or sister. Regardless of this certain Plutonian we have to kill has children in his dwelling, shoot anything that isn't your fellow soldier. That's all I have to say."
Monarch emitted a slow, deep breath, as worried as the Martian beside him was tough.
"Don't worry. Stay close to me. And remember each thing you learned in training," the Martian said.
Monarch nodded. He trained his eyes on the name tag designed onto the Martian's uniform. He said, "Thanks, Ink. I'm Monarch Glow."
The military group took a smaller spaceship. They rode in it through space, headed for a spherical Plutonian dwelling near Pluto, unleashing laser beams through enemy spaceships along the way.
Inside the target's dwelling in space, Monarch ran beside Ink while unloading his laser pistol on an Plutonian that had purple blood leaking from two slashes in his blue arm.
After his laser beam tore through the alien's forehead, Monarch used his military issue knife to slice off its smallest finger.
His first souvenir.
Dead Plutonians littering the hall, Raden grunted before taking heavy steps to the sole door at the room's end.
He slammed his fist against it.
Ink made a joke about how Plutonians are cold in personality, like the cold Pluto.
Adrenaline boiling within him, Monarch laughed.
Everything had to be alright.
"We killed all your friends. They won't be seeing you graduate college. And even if they lived, they wouldn't, because soon, you will be dead!" Raden said, his short gray hair moving while the muscular man made various gestures. He brandished his laser rifle. "Now, you can let me arrest you, take your execution on my ship like a man, or die because a very angry man decided to torture you to death in your own home. It's your choice, Plutonian!"
No response.
Raden scoffed. He took three steps back, aimed.
Nearby, the other soldiers lurked, wielding laser guns, some wielding wicked smiles as their owners beg for the chance to torture an Plutonian.
"Okay. We'll be torturing then." Raden said before training his eyes on the handle he had his gun trained on.
Monarch rotated the severed Plutonian finger with his own fingers.
He tossed it upwards, tried catching it.
The chopped off body part dropped to the silver floor.
"Dammit," the young twenty-year old said before bending down.
Laser beams assaulted his comrades.
Bending down, Monarch watched as the men he seen in training rooms and dined with dropped.
Ink, the tallest in the room, had his legs burst apart. When his torso dropped bottom-first, a second Plutonian laser barrage took his life.
Monarch trembled, surrounded by dead friends.
He fell onto his butt, moved onto his hands and knees, crawled as a sinister voice said, "Now, I'll return to setting things up."
On Earth, eighteen-year old Trevor Well stood outside in his home's backyard. As the yard remained enclosed by a tall fence, giving the teenager much needed privacy, Trevor turned his head to a random point in the air, as if there was something there he could not see.
He furrowed his eyebrows.
If there was something there he could not see, it wasn't like his parents were vacation-free and able to help.
Despite being short, Trevor had a huge cock. But it's no like a huge cock could fight off burglars, homeless stalkers, aliens.
No.
A huge cock's most important use was sex.
Sex Trevor never got.
Ever.
