Class M Colony: NM32
Population: 762 Souls
Complaint: Several young colonists were missing after a mid-veldt school trip. Although there was no sign of the youthful campers, their clothing and personal effects had been found, leading the local constable to believe that there might be a large predator operating on the planet, and based on certain "discharges" found near the groups last know location, a seed-stealer or other sexual criminal might be involved. Core HQ had been notified. Stan Adrades had been dispatched to take care of the situation.
0900 Hrs: Routine Sweep
Stanley knew there was something lurking from the moment he stepped off his ship. He could almost smell it on the warm dry breeze blowing off the veldt. He suited-up and checked he charge on his subduction ray. It was unlikely he'd have to use it on his quarry, but it paid to be cautious...even if it turned out to be some cowardly pervert drooling over the local nubiles. Putting the scene of the crime between himself and town, Stan shouldered the stunner and set off for the little colonial settlement 40 klicks across the barren rock-strewn desert at a brisk trot...It also paid to stay in shape for the sake of pursuit.
1200 Hrs: Strange Signs
Stan rubbed his big palm across his chest, feeling the unprocessed sweat between the lining of his reclamation suit and his smooth muscled pectorals. It felt good, the slick, second-skin tightness hugging his warm muscles, his blood pumping with efficient good health. The air on this planet was oxy rich and fragrant with desert flora. Small winged mammals braved the late-day heat to begin feeding on the sweet nectars the cacti were exuding. Stan's paw drifted down towards the prominent blue sheath and harness that were the symbols of his rank and status as a space-bound detective on the Galactic Sex Crimes Unit. As a lingering artifact of two hundred years of fighting pernicious sex crimes among the cluster planets, most of the officers wore them just for show, but Stanley Adrades filled the iridescent cod-piece out with ease, and even took pleasure in how when he was aroused (as was the case now) his swollen organ had little or no room to maneuver inside the confines of the rigid blue sheath and harness creating a sort of delicious captivity in which his member had to remain until he could effect "release". Stan even thought of it as "capture and release" in his private moments. Such was the life of a solitary sex cop like him.
Just then, Stan noticed that his suit had shut off its reclamation pumps, as they should do when the body is at rest. The handsome young cop looked down and realized he had been standing out one the veldt near an outcropping, absentmindedly stroking himself through the tight penis sheath for the last ten minutes or so, and he was pretty aroused to boot. The slickness inside his suit had added to his tactile arousal and he seemed to be on the edge of release. Something was not right, Stan thought, but that was all he thought before the Stromness' Rattler was upon him. As he was swept up in the arms of thirty or forty fast moving tentacles Stan Adrades knew he only had about a minute and a half to react before his mind would be overpowered by the psychic blast creatures like this one used to subdue their prey.
The Rattler's Prey
They weren't overly strong for more than the 2 or 3 minute period of the initial attack, but they didn't have to be if you were cowed and gentled by their weird telepathic siren-song. Stan had seen more then one muscled brute transformed into a mewling concubine in the span of a few short minutes as the thing reached into a man's innermost pleasures and pains, playing the victim like a fine instrument, using the hapless victim until they were either drained or dead or both. It was a wonder that anyone had ever survived an attach by the Stromness. The first two colonies to encounter them on M32 hadn't. That was how the first co units came into being: to defend colonists from the selfsame thing that had wrapped itself all around Det. Stanley Andrades and was slowly prying open the doors to Stan's innermost thoughts and pleasures. The virile cop thrashed in the ever-moving arms holding him tight, trying to get his thick arm free to grasp his weapon, as images of past lovers, and deep dark fantasies flashed before his mind's eye.
One such fantasy involved Stan naked and bound in a cell with white cord, his arms stretched painfully over his head, a white cloth gag, and someone or something stroking the length of his enormous erection with the kind of painful slowness that keeps a man beyond hard and beyond frustrated. Lesser men have gone mad waiting and hoping for release thought Stan as he regained his composure, and his sweat-slick fingers tried desperately to reach the subduction ray strapped to his thick thigh, but before he could reach the waiting weapon, his conscious mind was swept off to yet another scene, another depraved rape of his young man's virile imagination...
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