O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

Lance Storm and the Galaxy Pirates (mm scifi mc asfr)

by Wersgor

In our last thrilling episode,
Captain Lance Storm, pride of
the Rocketeers, was left without a
sidekick after Cadet Timmy fell down
a bottomless pit. When Lieutenant Eros,
a hypnotically sexy alien guy from the planet
Orgasmia, was assigned as Lance's new partner,
our manly straight stud was not happy. But during
their battle with the evil Sleazor, Eros (to his delight)
was forced to use his alien powers on Lance for his own
good. As our story opens, we find the dauntless Hero of the
Galaxy, transformed by Eros' cum into a devoted love-slave,
completing the report on their latest mission together... unaware
that they will soon face their most perilous adventure yet...

"...Of the Malevolent Doctor Saturn there was no trace to be found. But I feel certain that that brilliant, evil mind still lives – waiting and scheming, somewhere in the dark depths of space." Lance switched off the log recorder and put it back in its place on the cockpit's control panel. As usual these days, he was totally naked; he wanted his 6' 6" of rock-hard muscle to be a source of constant pleasure to his partner's eyes, just as Eros' toned, golden-bronze body was a treat to his. The Orgasmian was lounging in the pilot's seat, arms folded behind his ice-blue hair, adjusting the thruster levers with his prehensile feet as needed.

"It's my fault that Saturn got away again," Lance said glumly. "If I hadn't been so preoccupied with making sure that you were okay – "

"Forget it, Lance," the alien said cheerfully.

Lance blinked. "What was I saying?"

"Nothing important," said Eros sincerely. "Look, there's a message coming in on the teleceiver." He toed the button.

The small screen lit up with the face of Colonel Crabbe. The stern grey-haired commander of the Rocketeers showed no surprise at finding her top team of spacemen in the nude; she ran a tight outfit, but she firmly believed in motivational leadership. Besides, she secretly thought they looked pretty damn hot.

“Captain Lance Storm, reading your signal A-OK on vector five!” Lance reported crisply.

“Me too,” smiled Eros.

The colonel was all business, as usual. “I’ve got another dangerous mission for you, men. A week ago we stopped receiving reports from the construction crew building Space Station Alpha Five. When a patrol ship was sent to investigate, it found the facility abandoned. There were signs of a struggle – and the last image picked up by their scanners was this.” Her face blinked off the screen, replaced by a view of a sinister-looking, domed space cruiser. On its front was emblazoned a familiar, dreaded insignia: a planet with a skull face over a pair of crossed death-rays.

“Great Moons of Rathgeb!” cried Lance. “Space pirates?”

“Space pirates!” the colonel grimly confirmed, reappearing.

“Space pirates,” Eros murmured dreamily, rubbing a hand against his right nipple.

“Find them, Captain Storm. Bring the captives back alive, if possible, and give those pirates a taste of galactic justice.”

“We’ll teach ’em the law of the spaceways, ma’am!” Lance promised with enthusiasm, his fighting spirit on the rise.

“On the way you’ll be stopping at Tycho Base,” she added, with a trace of a smile. “There’s someone waiting there to join your crew. I understand he’s eager for action – he spent eight months falling down a crater on the fourth moon of Jupiter before coming out the other side.”

“Timmy!” Lance enthused. "That's great! Life just hasn't been the same without – " He broke off, his expression changing to panic. "Sir, this doesn't mean – "

"Relax, captain," the colonel said briskly. "Lieutenant Eros will remain attached to your...command. I know better than to break up a winning team."

Lance sighed with relief, tightly clasping his lover’s hand and instantly getting a raging hard-on.

“The Allied Space Fleet Rocketeers are counting on you, men,” said Colonel Crabbe. “ASFR forever!”

“ASFR forever!” they chorused, saluting as the screen went blank.

“Setting coordinates for Tycho Base!” barked Lance dramatically. “Estimated transit time: six space hours.”

“How ever will we pass the time?” mused Eros. He ran a finger lightly down Lance’s spine, and watched his whole body spasm with pleasure…

 

When their sleek silver patrol rocket, the Starchild, touched down at Tycho Base, a tall, trim figure was eagerly waiting at the edge of the landing pad. As Lance and Eros stepped out, clad once again in their tight blue spandex uniforms, the young man ran forward to meet them. A huge grin lit up his freckled face as he snapped to attention. “Cadet Timmy, ready for action, sir!”

“Welcome back, kid!” Lance beamed delightedly. “Gosh, can I still call you that? You’ve grown so tall and…well…manly.”

“Well, I did turn eighteen about halfway down the pit! And there was nothing much to do during those months but free-fall calisthenics.” Timmy proudly flexed a bicep and puffed out his chest, both significantly larger than his captain remembered.

“That’s my boy!” Lance approved, ruffling Timmy’s blond hair affectionately. “This is our new partner, Lieutenant Eros. He’s bunking with me, so your old cabin’s still waiting for you.”

“Nice to meet you, Timmy,” the Orgasmian smiled.

“And you, sir.” Timmy saluted, eyeing the alien cautiously. There were some strange space legends about the Orgasmians, and he’d never known whether to believe them or not.

“You’re gonna get along great!” Lance grinned. “Now hop aboard, cadet! We’ve a mission that won’t wait!”

“Sure thing, captain!” Timmy grabbed up his backpack and duffelbag and followed them into the cockpit. There, the lad let his eyes roam lovingly across the familiar display of dials and levers. "Gee, it sure is swell to find everything just the way I left it! I've missed – " His jaw dropped as he turned to see Lance and Eros stripping off their clothes. "Uh... captain?"

"Efficiency in all things, cadet," Lance explained cheerily. "We found that constantly taking off our uniforms and putting them on again was wasting a huge amount of time!" He winked at Eros. "You'll understand when you're a little bit older."

Timmy swallowed. "Uh, yes, sir. You don't, uh, mind if I remain in uniform?"

"Of course not. You look as good in uniform as ever, doesn't he, Eros?"

"Good enough to eat," smiled his partner. "Which reminds me, Lance, I haven't had anything in hours. Cadet Timmy is fully cleared for the cockpit, isn't he?"

"Best little pilot in the galaxy!" Lance said proudly. "Care to take command, Junior?"

Timmy saluted, glowing with pride. "You can count on me, sir!"

“I know I can, son.” Lance clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll find a rundown on our mission in the computer log. Study it well. The lieutenant and I will be in our quarters.”

“Got it, sir.” Timmy turned to the control panel quickly, not letting the captain see the look of disappointment that crossed his face. He had been waiting eight long months to share another blast-off with Lance, not just to do it solo. Then he squared his shoulders. Taking off solo was a great responsibility. This was Lance’s way of showing how much confidence he had in his cadet. With eager efficiency he scanned the flickering boards, briskly performing the operations that he knew so well.

“Ground control to Starchild,” came a voice from the forward teleceiver. “You are clear for orbit 613, repeat 613. Prepare for blastoff.”

“Stand by to raise ship,” Timmy whispered happily to himself. “Energize the cooling pumps!”

The mighty vessel throbbed with power.

“Clear tangent forward and up,” he murmured happily, as the Starchild took off with an echoing roar.

Then he sighed, his boyish face becoming wistful. It just wasn’t the same without Lance pointlessly shouting every step out loud…

He spent the next hour reviewing their assignment, looking over the data on the missing construction workers and memorizing their names and faces. Lance and Eros had done so already, of course; in fact, it seemed that one or both of them had tagged certain files as being of special interest. Timmy frowned, searching the files for some common factor, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. There was no obvious pattern, beyond the fact that they were the best-looking and most muscular of the brawny abductees. And that wasn’t relevant…was it?

A beep from the autopilot told him that the Starchild had reached its destination – the sprawling, uncompleted maze of metal that would eventually become Station Alpha Five. He thumbed the intercom. “Captain, we’ve arrived at point one. Ready to start search procedures.”

No answer. Lance must be testing him to see if he was still on the ball. With a twist of a dial, Timmy activated the ship’s scanner beams to search for a sign that other ships had passed. Within moments a red line began streaking across a miniature starmap – the trail of the space pirates!

Jumping up, he dashed aft to the captain’s quarters, pounding on his door excitedly. “Lance! We got ’em!” He swung the door open and dashed in –

– and stopped in his tracks, gaping. Lance was standing in the center of the room, both powerful arms tightly flexed – utterly motionless. His alien co-pilot was crouched behind him, his long tongue sensually rimming and probing the captain’s naked butt. Lance stared straight ahead, unblinking, showing no sign that he even knew what was happening.

"What have you done to him?" gasped the boy.

"Nothing he doesn't want," Eros assured him. "Tell him, Lance."

Lance's mouth – and only his mouth – moved. "It's true, Timmy. I asked for this. It's unbelievably cool. We often – "

Timmy made a choking noise and dashed from the room.

Timmy, wait! Lance wanted to shout, but he had only been given permission to speak once.

Eros stared after the boy for a moment, then turned back to his immobilized lover. "Oh, forget him," he said carelessly. "Back to business..." Slipping around to Lance’s front, he now wrapped his tongue around the erect, frozen cock, while simultaneously reaching out to stroke and knead his partner’s stiff butt-cheeks. Inwardly Lance was howling with ecstasy, his big body rocked by ceaseless waves of erotic pleasure. Outwardly he was a statue, his bliss made even more intense by his utter inability to show it in any way. He was Eros’ helpless toy, and the joy of that just kept getting greater every time he felt it.

Eros went on, his alien senses savoring the pent-up orgasm that he felt building ever more intensely in his slave’s rigid body. When he sensed that Lance was ready to pass out from the unbearable feeling, he finally withdrew his lips just enough to say two words: “Cock thaw.”

Released from its hypnotic freeze, Lance’s penis exploded with a shower of cum, straight into Eros’ eagerly waiting mouth. The Orgasmian gulped it greedily, licking every last drop from the quivering tip, while the rest of Lance’s body remained locked in its pose, still helpless. At last, satisfied that the feast was over, Eros rose to his feet, his hands slowly sliding up his partner’s back, and planted a long, deep, cum-flavored kiss on Lance’s motionless mouth.

“Thaw,” he murmured happily. Lance’s legs buckled, and he crashed to the floor with Eros astride his broad chest. Released from their long paralysis, his hands and lips were everywhere at once, exploring every inch of his partner’s beautiful body. Their moans of pleasure mingled, until at last both men slumped, happily exhausted.

After a while Eros spoke. "I guess you'd better try to explain things to Timmy."

"Who?" Lance asked blankly.

Eros sighed. Lance was adorable, but so literal-minded! "Remember Timmy," he ordered.

Lance blinked. "Gosh, the poor little guy was really upset, wasn't he? I'd better go and straighten things out."

 

When Lance entered the cockpit, Cadet Timmy sprang to his feet, holding out a printed computer readout. “I traced the path of the pirates’ vessel, captain. We’re on a pursuit course now – and it leads straight to Tortuga Prime.”

“The pirate planet!” Lance exclaimed, pounding a fist into his palm. “We should have known!” His face became troubled. “Uh, Timmy…about what you saw earlier…”

“None of my business, sir,” the cadet replied stiffly. “I’ll remember not to barge in like that in the future.”

“Oh, Timmy, you’re always welcome to barge in,” Lance protested. “Nothing has changed. You’ll always be my best pal!” He hesitated. “You are still my pal, aren’t you, kid?”

Timmy’s youthful face softened. “Of course I am! And you’ll always be my idol, Lance. I guess…I just have some things to get used to.” He stretched. “Say, I could sure use a snack and a nap. You back on duty?”

Lance laughed. “Sure, Junior. You take a shift off. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us yet.” As Timmy headed for the galley, he gave him a friendly swat on the ass, just like old times. He didn’t catch the odd look that crossed the youngster’s face as he left.

Lance spent a shift minding the store, letting both his companions catch up on their rest. Then Timmy came bounding back, full of energy, and Lance left him in charge, returning to his cabin for a nap of his own, with instructions to wake him if anything came up.

The nap was not to be. Eros was awake and waiting for him with a mischievous smile. "Guess what, Lance. It's – Transformation Time!"

Lance's eyes lit up. "Cool! What will I – "

"Puppy," said Eros, snapping his fingers.

Lance dropped to his hands and knees and began to frisk around, yapping joyously.

"Fetch, boy! Fetch!" his master commanded, pulling a small metal sphere from a niche in the wall and tossing it up in the air. The remote buzzed around the room, making faint beeping sounds, and Lance bounded after it, barking. Eros grinned, as always getting a hard-on from the sight of his big, muscular partner running around on all fours, helplessly convinced that he really was a puppy. And Lance was such a cute puppy! He would dash around for hours if allowed, never figuring out that catching the remote in his mouth was utterly impossible.

Eros worked on his boner till it was good and hard, relishing his power over Lance and letting him have a nice romp. Then he called, "Here, boy! Come here!" Lance trotted over, lolling his tongue and eagerly sniffing at Eros' crotch. "Good boy, yeah, that's a good boy," Eros told him, scratching behind his ears. Then he snapped his fingers again. "Vacuum cleaner."

Lance's face went blank, his mouth forming an O shape. Eros slid his huge Orgasmian dick, now harder than ever, into the opening, and thumbed Lance's right ear as if it was a switch. With a monotonous humming sound, Lance began to mindlessly suck, incapable of thinking of anything else.

Then the door opened and Cadet Timmy rushed in. "I've picked up something on the space scanner! It could be – " He broke off, gaping. "Oh my gosh! What have you done to him now?"

Eros sighed, pulling reluctantly out of Lance, who remained on all fours, mindlessly humming. Snapping his fingers again, Eros commanded, "Lance."

His captain blinked and sat up, not terribly surprised to find himself kneeling at Eros' crotch with his mouth open. "Wow," he said. "It's okay, Timmy. Eros just turned me into a vacuum cleaner. Before that I was a puppy." He smiled. "Thanks, Eros. You know I love the puppy."

"Come and take a look at the scanner," gritted Timmy harshly.

 

“That’s the ship!” Lance exclaimed tensely, staring at the image on the small scanner screen. “And headed straight for Tortuga Prime!”

“Do we take ’em on?” asked Timmy with excitement.

Lance rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “No. We’ll tail them discreetly until they land. And then… I have a plan…”

A few hours later a tall, brawny figure strode through the swinging doors of the Drunken Sailor, the roughest, toughest saloon on Tortuga Prime. A large eyepatch with a glaring eye painted on it hid one side of his face, and his mane of unkempt hair did much to disguise the other. Swaggering up to the bar, he demanded, “I hear this is the best place in town for a drink?”

“That it is, mate,” averred the bartender, a Purploid from the planet Purplon. He pointed a violet finger proudly at a three-star review from the local paper, which proclaimed ‘You’ll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy!’

“Swell!” exclaimed the thug. “I mean, arr! Gimme a double shot of Lunarian ale! Us pirates work up a mighty thirst!”

The barkeep eyed him craftily as he poured out the foaming brew. “Pirate, eh? Fixin’ to sign up for a fresh voyage?”

“That I am!” The big pirate tipped the mug back, appearing to drink deep. Smacking his lips, he added, “But Big Lance Squall only signs with the best! No penny-ante runs for me!”

The conversation had drawn the attention of all the seedy, sleazy patrons of the dark, dank establishment – including a pair who stayed in the corner shadows, watching in ominous silence. Others were not so quiet. “The best?” bellowed a remarkably small man with a huge moustache. “Why, that’d be me! I’m Yose mi-Tesam – the bloodthirstiest, shoot-’em-firstiest, doggone-worstiest space buccaneer in the whole cosmos!”

“Not so,” murmured a soft, sinister voice from beneath an alien space helmet. There seemed to be no face within – only an eerie black void. “I hate to be contentious, but it is I who am, by far, the deadliest.”

“Are not!” roared mi-Tesam furiously, whipping out his dagger.

“Am too,” hissed the dark creature, raising his own raygun menacingly.

“Nonsense!” cried a hearty voice, accompanied by the sharp swish of metal cleaving the air – and more than the air. The owner of that voice, a huge, broad-shouldered swashbuckler of a man, grinned merrily and watched in amusement as both the rival pirates’ heads flew up in the air, neatly severed by the sweep of his space cutlass. As he pulled out a rag to wipe the fresh blood and ichor from his blade, the heads plopped down again…each now on the wrong pair of shoulders. “You see, my friends?” laughed the assassin. “It’s all meaningless once you can see from each other’s point of view.”

The helmeted head, resting loosely on the little humanoid’s gory shoulders, stared for a second at the humanoid’s head sitting atop his own body. “Oh, fuck,” he said petulantly, as they both slumped lifeless to the floor.

Their slayer looked around, grinning cheerfully and twirling his little moustache. “Now, my lads, is there anyone else who’d like to usurp my title as King o’ the Pirates?” After a brief, deathly silence, he smirked, “Didn’t think so! Cap’n Starfire rules supreme!”

“Then I’m the man for you!” cried the one who had started the whole affair. “Big Lance Squall’s the name, cap’n, and if you need a strong right arm, I’m here to serve!” He shook the pirate’s hand heartily.

“So I see,” mused the Pirate King, letting his fingers reach up to stroke the hard muscle of his new crewman’s bicep. “Yes indeed, my lad, you might well be the man for me. Let’s repair to my yacht, the Maladventure, and discuss the, um, terms of your employment.”

Slipping an arm around Lance’s, he guided him out the door to the street. In the corner, the smaller of the shadowy watchers whispered, “Keen! With Lance undercover, those pirate scum won’t stand a chance!”

His companion watched their captain’s retreating figure with concern. “Now we return to the ship and wait for his signal,” he murmured. “I wish he hadn’t gone in alone.”

Timmy glanced at him reproachfully. “You know the Rocketeers’ code. A captain always places himself in the position of greatest risk. How else can he show that he’s the top man?”

Eros smiled faintly, restraining himself from answering that.

 

Lance’s one uncovered eye stared around with fascination as they boarded Dirk Starfire’s sinister ship. Never had he seen such a motley crew. There were rough, vicious-looking humans, the dregs of the spaceways. There were aliens of numerous types – slimy Tentaclons with eight long appendages, shifty-looking Purploids, even a pair of Lorp warriors with their long, prehensile tongues darting in and out. All of these eyed the new arrival with curiosity and suspicion. But the other half of the crew paid no attention at all. They simply continued with their tasks, completely oblivious. They were robots – the most lifelike robots Lance had ever seen. Except for the metallic grey color of their skin, they were perfect replicas of naked men, their mechanical muscles rippling as they moved in an almost-human manner. Lance saw, with some interest, that they were anatomically correct too. If that was Cap’n Starfire’s weakness, he might just capture the Pirate King without firing a shot. At least not from a raygun.

Dirk Starfire led him to the pirate vessel’s quarterdeck, where a skull and crossrays adorned the vain captain’s throne. On its right arm rested a large ray-rifle of a design Lance had never seen before. The Pirate King noticed his reaction and grinned. “Ha! You’re wondering why I would be such a fool as to leave any weapon unguarded, eh? Especially one that’s my pride and joy! ’Tis because it’s specially programmed to reject any biorhythm but mine. None of the crew can touch it without it shutting off – and the robots, who could touch it, have no will to use it.” He reached down and pulled a bottle and a golden cup from a niche beside the throne. “Now avast, ye space swabs! I want ye all to meet a new shipmate – the bold, wicked, and I may say rather splendidly built Big Lance Squall!”

The scurvy crew let out a ragged cheer.

Starfire poured out frothy Saturnian whisky until it filled the cup. “Now we drink together to the pirate’s oath! Repeat after me, Lance: I swear to wreak havoc and terror throughout the spaceways!”

“Havoc and terror throughout the spaceways!” Lance echoed, keeping his fingers crossed behind his back.

“To right loyally serve any and all the needs of my cap’n, Dirk Starfire!”

“To serve any and all your needs!” Lance winked slyly.

“And death and confusion to the scum of the ASFR!”

Lance paled. His lips twitched, but he couldn’t speak those words! Even with his fingers crossed!

Starfire’s suspicious gaze was on him. “Well, Lance?”

Lance struggled. “Death and…and confusion to…”

The pirates all were staring now. “Yes?” demanded Starfire.

“– to scum like you!” Lance finished, whipping off his wig and eyepatch and hurling them to the deck. “Yes, Starfire, I’m a Rocketeer! And I’m challenging you, if you have any courage or honor, to fight me man-to-man, here and now!” He raised his mighty fists, tensed for action. “Have you got the nerve to risk all in a fair fight?”

Starfire stared for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed heartily. “I knew I liked you, Lance my lad! You’ve got guts, and that’s something I admire! Yes, I do have the courage!”

He whipped the ray-rifle off the arm of the throne. “But sadly for you, I don’t have any honor!”

The beam it fired hit Lance squarely in the chest.

Three hours had passed. The atmosphere aboard the Starchild was tense. Timmy tried to concentrate on studying the files on the missing construction crew again, but he couldn’t. At last he burst out, “What could be keeping him so long? He said he’d contact us every hour! You don’t think…”

“There isn’t a lot of privacy aboard a pirate ship,” Eros said soothingly. “He probably just hasn’t had a moment alone.”

“Then he would have secretly thumbed the button and let us hear what they’re saying, and found a clever way to slip a coded message into his conversation! He’s been doing that ever since ‘Lance Storm and the Invasion from Space’!”

“Lance is the most able officer I’ve ever met. And I would know if he was hurt or in pain. There’s a connection between us.”

Timmy leapt up from his chair and glared at him. “What do you care?” he spat furiously. “You can always get another! You can have any man you want! But Lance – ” He tried to stop himself, but the words came rushing out. “Lance is the only man I ever wanted! And now he might be – ” He couldn't help it. He burst into tears.

“Oh, Timmy,” murmured Eros, suddenly understanding. Why hadn't he seen it before? “He’s not lost to you, Timmy. I swear he’s not.” He reached out to lay a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Timmy wanted to jerk away, rejecting any comfort from this man. But he was too distraught – and the rush of erotic feeling that shot through his shoulder made his head spin. He collapsed onto Eros’ strong chest, sobbing in confusion.

Eros held him, gently stroking his tense back. Within minutes the lad’s tears had faded – but a different type of heavy breathing had taken their place. Clinging tightly to the Orgasmian, his hands began to slowly, almost involuntarily explore his broad back, taking in the hard contours of his muscles. Eros felt something very hard, and surprisingly large, pressing against his crotch. As Timmy’s chest moved against his, the cadet raised his blond head and looked up into his dark, alien eyes. “I…I can’t let go of you,” he whispered.

“Don’t try,” said Eros softly, sliding a strong hand down to caress his butt. Timmy gasped, his body jerking upward till their faces almost touched. “Accept it,” said the bronze lips so close to his. “Embrace it. Enjoy it…”

And he did.

 

Two and a half hours earlier…

“So, me proud beauty,” smirked Dirk Starfire. “What do you think of my Neutronic Robot Ray?”

Lance did not answer. He stood motionless, his fists still raised. His defiant expression had been replaced by one of utter blankness. His eyes did not blink. His face was no longer a deep manly tan, but a uniform shade of metallic grey. So was his entire body, down to the stiff metal hairs on his chest.

Lance did not have to wonder what had happened to him. The computer that had once been his brain knew very well that he was now a robot. His human personality, now a buried subroutine in his electronic memory circuits, was reacting in horrified panic, but no trace of it showed on his expressionless metal face. He could not even think of expressing it; he was programmed for obedience to organic life forms, nothing else.

“Tsk, tsk,” mocked the pirate. “When your cap’n asks a question, you must answer. I ask again, Lance, what do you think?”

Lance’s grey lips moved stiffly, and a flat, toneless voice emerged. “No-thing.”

Starfire threw back his head, roaring with laughter. “Now that’s the kind of man I like!” He clapped Lance on the back with a loud clang. “But I don’t think you’ll be needing the rest of that disguise any more. Tear it off, boys!”

The crew rushed forward gleefully, ripping Lance’s pirate costume apart and hurling it to the deck. One of the Purploids slyly reached out to stroke his ass, poking a purple finger into the smooth metal crack. Lance showed no reaction, because he had no reaction. He had not been ordered to have one.

Cap’n Starfire examined his new stud’s stiff body, running appreciative hands over the broad shoulders, the powerful chest, the flexed arms – all now hard, smooth grey metal, immobile beneath his touch. No breath caused the chest to rise and fall; there were internal ventilation systems for that. The Pirate King playfully checked for a pulse, and felt only the steady, mechanical hum of an engine. Yet every detail of Lance’s human form was perfectly preserved, from the pupils of his now-expressionless eyes to the outline of love bites on the side of his throat.

“Suck me, Rocketeer!” crowed the pirate, whipping open his trousers and letting his cock leap out, already erect with the thrill of power. Lance dropped heavily to his knees, his arms still in their fighting pose. His mouth dropped stiffly open, his head leaned stiffly forward. He sucked, with mechanically precise rhythm, eyes staring blankly at his master’s crotch. Somewhere deep within his circuits, a remembered part of himself was torn between anger and pleasure, but even that buried part could not for an instant consider anything but obedience. That was his function.

 

“Feeling better?” Eros asked playfully, each word a sensual joy to hear.

Timmy raised his tousled head from the Orgasmian’s crotch, gazing at him with adoration. “You know I am,” he sighed blissfully, his lips coated with the silver alien cum that had changed his life.

Eros reached down to run his fingers through the boy’s – the man’s – hair, making his nude body quiver with delight. “I know you love me now. You always will. And I welcome it. But don't stop loving Lance. True love is rare and precious, and I wouldn't have you lose that for all the stars. I forbid it.”

“Thank you,” he said simply. Gratitude shone in his eyes. Then lust and need crowded it out. “Would you... would you do to me what you did to Lance?” he begged, breathing hard. “Please...”

Eros had to think for a moment. “What haven’t I done to Lance?” he chuckled musically. “There are so many wonderful games I’ll have to teach you, love. Like Transformation Time… When I snap my fingers, you’ll become anything I say. Instantly.”

“I want to be whatever you say.” Timmy leaned toward him, letting his warm breath touch Eros’ lips. “I want to be completely helpless. Completely.”

And then Eros understood.

He put his lips to Timmy's, letting his tongue slide out to tease the tip of the young human’s. And as Timmy trembled all over with pleasure, he whispered, “Freeze.”

The youth became a statue, his strong body rigid, his tongue hovering stiffly in air, his pleasure-glazed eyes unblinking. Eros slowly slid his hands along the half-raised arms, fingering every hard, firm muscle line as he went. Sheer ecstasy exploded through Timmy’s stopped figure, but he could not move a muscle or make the slightest sound. He was helpless, completely.

“You do learn fast, don’t you?” Eros grinned. “Now another favorite game for you to learn.” He slid past the cadet’s tall form and positioned himself against his back. Timmy remained facing away from him, an inanimate object. “You’ve only seen one of the tricks this guy can do.” Timmy felt the Orgasmian’s hard cock, bigger than any normal Earthman’s, pressing against his buttcheeks, stroking them, somehow compelling them to open wider and wider... and he silently screamed, with both pain and pleasure, as that huge alien shaft went where no man had gone before.

 

Lance stood motionless again before the captain’s throne, a toy that had not been put away. Starfire had retired to his cabin, exhausted from hours of playing with his new robot slave. With no new instructions, the robot simply stood and stared, waiting.

Other robots walked past him unheeding, doing their assigned shipboard chores. Their mechanical minds recognized that this machine had been a man, as they had been before the pirates took them captive. But it was irrelevant to their orders. Like him, they existed only to obey. Their metal muscles now carried loads that would have been unthinkable to their human selves, as powerfully built as they had been. Their dully gleaming metal asses were stained with cum.

The pirates, however, did take notice of the new machine. Even beside the rest, this one was a true beauty, in both face and body. Every few minutes one or another of the mangy crew would take a break from his chores to stroke Lance’s unmoving chest, caress his feet, or run a hand along his unresisting cheek. At last the first mate, a leering Purploid with a long scar, spoke out loud: “The cap’n’s asleep. That means I’m in charge, right?”

“Right,” the rest agreed, wondering where this was going. If they didn’t like what came next, they could always kill him.

“Well, I sez – why should the cap’n have all the fun, sez I!”

“Right!” “Yeah!” “Why should he?” the others chorused.

“An’ as the one in charge, I come first!” the Purploid chortled. “Hey, robot – you can kiss my ass!”

Lance walked stiffly around behind him, dropped to his knees, and kissed his ass. “That tickles!” giggled the Purploid, rubbing his cheeks against Lance’s unmoving face.

“My turn!” demanded a scruffy, bearded human. “Robot, c’mere and do that thing they do on Asteroid 69!” He stretched out on the deck expectantly.

Lance rose, walked over to the rogue, and lowered his body to the floor in one smooth motion, his face against the pirate’s crotch, his crotch against the pirate’s mouth. His metallic cock rose as if on hinges and slid into the man’s greedily slurping mouth, while his metallic lips wrapped themselves around the pirate’s unwashed dick, sucking as mechanically as they had sucked the captain before. The pirate writhed happily, having the most fun he’d had in ages.

“Now us!” grunted the two Lorp warriors after a while, their apelike faces grinning. “Robot, stand!” Lance pulled out of the protesting human and stood smoothly upright, waiting for more instructions.

The Lorp shuffled over, stroking the robot’s chest and legs with their clumsy hands. “Hey!” someone complained. “If all you’re gonna do is grope…”

“Hah!” one Lorp barked. “Not all!” He leered at his partner, extending his long, long tongue to hang down his hairless barrel chest.

The second Lorp scratched his bald head and snorted laughter. “Tongues!” He reached up to Lance’s expressionless face and pushed down on his jaw, popping his mouth open. Leaning in, he pressed his lips against Lance’s and began tonguing him.

His partner knelt behind Lance, wrapping muscular arms around his waist. Then he buried his face in Lance’s unyielding ass, tonguing from the other end.

Lance’s sensors registered the presence of the foreign objects as they penetrated his motionless metal body, one extending down, down, down through the hollow shaft of his throat; the other shooting up, up, up, through his asscrack, through the complex system of wires, relays, diodes and gears that filled his torso. One tongue slid past his energy core. The other slid around his internal guidance system. He stood immobile, feeling everything, feeling nothing, as the two tongues met in the center and wrapped around each other, and the Lorp came onto him from both sides at once.

 

“You can move now,” said Eros casually.

Timmy slumped backward into his arms, and together they crashed heavily to the floor. For a while they just lay there, breathing deeply, enjoying each other's closeness. At last Timmy managed to speak.

"My gosh," he moaned happily. "How do you do that? It was even bigger on the inside than it is on the outside..."

"Old Orgasmian trick," grinned Eros. "Like to see it again?"

Timmy came like a fountain as he passed out.

 

“Ha! Told you he could take five! Pay up!” cried the Purploid triumphantly.

The Tentaclon burbled gleefully where it lay beside Lance, five long sticky tentacles stuffed up his ass. Unconcerned, Lance continued mechanically rimming a huge musclebound human, whose many tattoos writhed in response.

“Not so fast,” countered the second mate. “Want to raise the bet, double or nothing? Double or nothing that he can take at least six!”

The first mate hesitated a moment, then snapped, “Ye’re on!”

The Tentaclon sighed happily, extending a sixth appendage and calculating where it could be best inserted…

 

It was dawn on Tortuga Prime when the Maladventure’s supply shipment arrived. Robot slaves hauled the boxes and barrels aboard, lifting their burdens with effortless ease and total disinterest. The pirates snickered, blessing the day their wise captain had thought of a way to stick someone else with all the hard work.

The second mate grinned as he spotted a barrel labelled “apples”. Groping beneath the lid, he plucked out a shining pippin and took a greedy bite. Glancing around to make sure no one had noticed the theft, he strolled away.

When he had gone, the lid was slowly lifted and Eros’ head peered out. “Coast is clear,” he whispered, and hauled himself out onto the deck.

Timmy clambered out after him, still quivering all over from the time spent pressed close to his new love. “Good thing we had enough room left for that one apple. You’re sure that Lance is okay?”

“After eight months together, I would sense it if he were dead or injured. But he hasn’t called all night, so we have to figure he’s a prisoner.” He smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him. Let’s start looking.”

As it happened, it was only a few minutes before he opened the door to another storeroom and found a motionless figure standing inside.

“Lance!” cried Timmy, aghast. “Is that really you?”

Lance's computer mind processed information. ·Cadet Timmy · organic life form · must obey · query posed/require command to answer · Memory Subroutine: kid sidekick · best friend · affection ·

“Lance?” asked Eros, staring into his face.

Lance stared back expressionlessly. · Lieutenant Eros · organic life form · must obey · query posed/require command to answer · Memory Subroutine: lover · reason for living/this unit not alive · must serve and obey/require command to act · must serve and obey/require command to act · must serve require command must serve require command malfunction malfunction –

“Lance! Say something!” Eros pleaded.

· command received · malfunction prevented · serve and obey · “Some-thing,” Lance said tonelessly.

“It's him, all right,” Eros said sadly. “Lance, what happened to you, guy?” After a moment, he added, “Answer all our questions.”

“Un-it ex-posed as im-pos-tor. Un-it trans-formed in-to ro-bot by Neu-tron-ic Ro-bot Ray,” Lance informed them.

Eros snapped his fingers. “Of course! The robots who carried the supplies in – they’re the kidnapped construction crew!” He glanced at Timmy, who was looking a bit confused. “Um, that was just a finger snap of excited realization. You don’t have to change into anything.”

Timmy relaxed. “What’re we gonna do? Poor Lance!”

“Hmm.” Eros looked thoughtful. “Actually, this may have some short-term advantages. Lance,” he said sternly. “Process command: Obey orders only from Eros and Timmy. No one else.”

“Un-it un-a-ble to o-ver-ride pro-gram,” Lance responded. “Must o-bey all or-gan-ic life forms.”

“Damn!”

Timmy stared at Lance in despair. “You mean when he hears a command from anyone, he has to obey it?”

“’Fraid so. No, wait, Timmy, I think you've hit on it!” Eros smiled triumphantly. “Lance, process command: Receive audio only from Eros and Timmy. Block all other audio, hear no one else's voice.”

“Un-it o-beys. Sound sen-sors ad-just-ed to pri-vate fre-quen-cy.”

“Yes!” cried Timmy. “Lance, forget how to lip-read, too. And, uh, scramble visual input of any written commands you see.”

“Un-it o-beys.”

 

“Good work, Timmy!” exclaimed Eros. He slapped the boy's shoulder, making him gasp with pleasure. “Lance, I promise we’ll find a way to help you. But right now, you’re going to help us. I’m guessing you’re not only super-strong, but nigh indestructible. You’re going to help us take on these pirate scum. Use any fighting technique and any weapon available.”

“Un-it o-beys.”

The pirates never knew what hit them. The trio came barreling up from belowdecks as if shot from a cannon, each armed with a pair of rayguns from the scoundrels’ own armory. Eros moved like lightning; Timmy showed full well that day why he’d won the All-Galaxy Junior Marksmanship Award. When the ray reserves ran out, they ran after the remaining villains and laid them out with bare-knuckle punches (but never from behind).

But it was Lance who was utterly amazing. He strode forward without emotion, a perfect fighting machine, snapping off thick metal struts and levers from the walls and laying about him left and right. Knives, shock-bullets and death rays bounced off his invulnerable skin, not even causing him to blink. He was not programmed to blink.

Stepping out of his cabin, the rogue of rogues, Dirk Starfire, gaped in astonishment for a moment. Then, collecting his wits, he made a dash for the command deck and his throne. As Eros and Timmy dashed after him in close pursuit, he laughed mockingly over his shoulder. “Too late, me lads! Before you can catch up I’ll have my hands on the ultimate weapon – and you’ll both become obedient metal slaves like – ”

He rounded a corner and gulped, “– your friend.” Lance stood beside the foul throne of piracy, holding the Neutronic Robot Ray in his arms.

“No!” cried Starfire, holding up his hands. “No, not that! Not the – ”

Zap!

He fell silent, his face going blank, as his body took on the uniform grey tone of lifeless metal.

Eros strode up to what had been the Pirate King, standing frozen in his pose of protest. “That takes care of this hunk o' junk,” he grinned, shoving the robot with his boot and watching it crash to the deck.

“But what about our hunk? And all the rest of them?” asked Timmy, hugging Lance anxiously. Lance stood silent and immobile, waiting for an order. Memory Subroutine: warmth · desire to comfort · unit loves this kid ·

“I have an idea,” said the Orgasmian thoughtfully. He walked over and lifted the weapon out of Lance's motionless hands. Stepping back a few paces, he adjusted a series of switches on the barrel and said, “Move away from him, Timmy. There, I've reversed the polarity of the neutron flow. And if my hunch is right – ”

He raised the ray rifle and fired it straight at Lance.

There was a zap! and a flash of light. When it faded, Lance was lowering his arms and looking around, blinking. His normal tan and dark hair were back; his body was flesh again.

“Lance!” cheered Timmy. “It's you again!”

“Welcome back, love!” cried Eros, hugging him and feeling his warm body spasm with delight.

In a very human voice, Lance Storm said, “Oh, man, that was weird.”

 

An hour later all the robots were gone, and three dozen brawny, hardbodied construction workers stood flexing and rubbing their rippling muscles, as if hardly believing they were flesh and blood again. “We owe you big time, Rocketeers,” said the foreman gratefully. “What do you think will happen to Starfire now?”

Lance looked at the robotized villain, propped against a bulkhead like a mannequin. “You’re the ones he victimized the most,” he said. “What do you think should be done with him? There’s not much point in putting a robot on trial.”

The foreman thought for a moment, then grinned. “Why not send him back with us? We’re a week behind because of him. With that robotic strength and no need for sleep or rest, he could put us back on schedule.”

“Makes sense to me,” Lance approved.

“When you're through with him, can we have him?” suggested Eros, tapping Starfire's metallic cheek. “He's kinda studly.” Starfire only stared blankly, though inside his face the circuits abruptly shorted out, overloaded, where the Orgasmian's fingers had touched.

Lance Storm beamed at Eros and Timmy. “Another space mission accomplished!”

 

“Hey, guys,” called Timmy excitedly, bursting out of the Starchild’s cockpit. “There’s a message from Earth. We’re all gonna get a commendation!” He broke off in embarrassment, seeing that Lance and Eros had been necking in the nude.

“Oh, uh, sorry, guys,” he blushed. “I'll just go back to the, uh...”

“No, stay, Timmy,” said Eros. He looked from Timmy to Lance and back again, with a grave expression that made him heartbreakingly gorgeous. Then he lifted his hand.

“Lovers,” he said, and snapped his fingers.

Lance and Timmy stared at each other, years of unspoken feelings rushing freely to the surface at last. Then they ran into each other's arms, embracing tightly. The embrace quickly turned into something more active, as eager fingers wildly groped and stroked, breath became hot and heavy, and tongues wrapped together with the fierce intensity of a love too long denied.

And at this moment of highest passion, Eros firmly commanded, “Freeze!”

The lovers became rigid, petrified in their frantic embrace, every taut muscle helplessly locked. Even their minds, though still aware, were hypnotically suspended in an instant of utter happiness: the erotic thrill of being totally in Eros' power; the bliss of being in each other's arms at last; most of all, the joy of knowing that their love was encouraged, and shared, by the one they both adored. They found themselves wanting this frozen moment to last forever.

Eros circled his statues, fondling and caressing their toned, hardened bodies, knowing that every touch was an ecstasy they longed to express, knowing that being powerless to express it only made it that much greater. They were together at last; even when he pulled them apart and had his way with each helpless figure, they would still be together. Joined forever by a snap of the fingers.

“I love a happy ending,” he sighed romantically, and thrust his throbbing cock up Lance Storm's immobilized ass.

---

All contents of this story have been cleared for release by the Allied Space Fleet Rocketeers. Call your ASFR recruiting office today!

END

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