World Travelers

To my faithful followers and new readers: This is the newest addition to my "World Travelers" series. Even though this extended story will stand alone, I refer to characters and events from the previous chapters quite often in this novella. If you haven't already read the first seven chapters or if it's been a while since you did, you may want to start with World Travelers Ch. 01 to get the full effect.

All participants in sexual activity have been on their respective planets for at least eighteen years.

World Travelers

World Travelers

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Taurus

Taurus

David Greene

David Greene

"Damn it, David. Do something!"

That's the first thing I heard when the portal dumped us on what I assumed was another planet.

Unlike our trip from Mars to Panternia, this latest jump through the galaxy planted us smack dab in the middle of a situation that made Melody scream like a little girl who discovered a spider in her lunch box. Which wasn't too far from the truth.

We were Super Glued to a giant spider web slung between sturdy trees, two of the strangest animals I'd ever seen were standing five feet from us and, yeah, there was a spider. A big one. Like the largest friggin spider I'd ever seen. Crawling down its web. Towards us.

Well, not exactly towards us. It was actually making a bee line for Melody's naked body. Not that I didn't feel threatened as well. Knowing what spiders did for a living, at least the tiny ones we had on Earth, I figured that, once the overgrown eight-legged monster injected Melody with its venom and then wrapped her up in a cocoon of silk so she would tenderize for a few days, my turn would come next.

Unlike my still screaming traveling companion, I wasn't too concerned about the beasts in front of us. The one on my left stood on two legs, was at least seven feet tall and, from what I could see, was completely covered, head to toe, with long brown fur. His companion looked like someone had attached a human upper torso onto a horse's body. For lack of a better explanation, I was looking at a sasquatch and a centaur.

They also were armed - one carried a pitchfork and the other a machete - however it was their clothes that maybe not put me at ease but at least gave me some hope. The sasquatch was wearing a pair of bib overalls and work boots which were at least three times larger than any shoe I'd ever seen. The centaur wore a well-worn flannel work shirt on his human half while his lower body was covered in horsehair.

They were farmers carrying farm tools.

It took the sasquatch a couple of tries, but he finally managed to spear the spider with his pitchfork and held it still while the centaur finished off the humongous arachnid with his machete.

Once the spider quit twitching, our two saviors backed off and turned their attention towards me.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" The centaur's words sounded like nothing I had ever heard before but, thanks to the portal's magic translation program, I understood what he was saying.

"He's kind of small," the sasquatch answered. "I'm not sure he could carry a big enough load to do any good."

"True, but you're quickly running out of options."

"We don't even know what he is. I mean, we've all heard the legends about hairless apes, but I always thought they'd be, you know, more impressive."

"I still think it's worth a try. All we've got to do is find some way of communicating with it."

"Why don't you just ask?" I suggested.

"Holy shit, it speaks." The sasquatch took a step back.

"How do you know our language?" his buddy the centaur asked.

"Beats the hell out of me. I don't even know what planet I'm on. But, since you just saved our lives, the least I can do is offer my help with whatever little problem you're facing."

"It's not a little problem. It's a matter of life or death."

"Okay, it's a big problem. What do you want me to do?"

The two looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and then the sasquatch said,

"I'm getting a little behind on some chores at the farm. If you consent to lend a helping hand, we'll cut you out of this spider web, feed you, and give you and your female a place to sleep."

"That doesn't sound like a life-or-death situation to me," I said. "How about you being a little more specific about what kind of chores I'd be doing. I'm not a stranger to farms. I can plow a field, mend a fence, harvest crops. Hell, I'll even clean out your chicken coops. But I draw the line at anything illegal."

"Dammit Harold, just tell him the truth," the centaur said.

"I can't. It's too embarrassing."

"Well, if you won't, I will," the half man, half horse told his friend. "He needs you to fuck his wife."

"What happens if I don't?" I asked.

"She'll die a slow and painful death. The same fate facing you and your mate if we don't cut you down."

At that point, Melody joined the conversation saying,

"He'll do it. He will screw your wife, mother, sister or daughter. He's nothing more than a walking, talking dick without an ounce of moral fiber. Cut us down, give us some clothes to wear, some food to eat, and he'll stick his oversized cock in any hole you want."

"Is that true?" the sasquatch asked me.

"Naw. My traveling companion's just upset because her boyfriend recently kicked her out of the house. But, with your wife's consent, I'll do whatever's required to keep her safe."

This apparently wasn't the first time that our heroes cut a woman out of a spider's web. The sasquatch leaned his pitchfork against a tree and kneeled in front of Melody, placing his large hands around her thin waist. Making sure he didn't touch any part of the spider web; he gently pulled her towards him. At the same time, the centaur positioned himself on the backside of the web and, using his machete, carefully cut through each restrictive strand of sticky spider rope, starting with those restraining her arms and moving downwards, until she was free.

Well, not completely free. As the last bit of web was cut, Melody stumbled forward, into the arms of the kneeling sasquatch, knocking him over onto his back, with Melody laying on top of him. That shouldn't have been a huge disaster, except Melody still had a few strands of sticky spider web on her body, which stuck to the centaur's exposed arm fur, giving him the choice of either ripping the fur off his arms or leaving his huge hands on her boobs.

Me laughing my ass off as the centaur separated the two didn't put Melody in a better mood, but it did get a chuckle out of the two farmers.

It wasn't a long walk to their farm. Maybe just over a mile. Leif the centaur led the way with Melody on his back, wearing his shirt. Harold the sasquatch, and I followed, traveling at a more leisurely pace due to my lack of shoes. Once Leif and Melody got out of earshot, Harold explained the intricacies of his society and, eventually, got around to the subject of why his wife needed sex several times a day to stay alive.

According to Harold, Taurus is a unique planet in that two separate species are dominant. Unlike Earth, where humans rule, on Taurus, the Sasquatch and Centaur co-exist to the extent that, several centuries ago, they combined their separate tongues into a single language. Ever since, they worked and lived together. Something that supposedly happened many thousands of years ago when Humans and Neanderthals roamed Earth.

Unfortunately, the sasquatch and centaurs were not without enemies. Just like the wolves we used to fear on Earth, the occupants of Taurus had their own predators that threatened their survival. But let's be blunt. Currently, the only threat to the human race is the human race. If our species is wiped clean from planet Earth, it will be entirely our own damn fault. Not so for the sasquatch and centaurs. They were in a fight for their lives with spiders.

"There's got to be a thousand different types of spiders," Harold told me. "Damn near all of them are harmless, things you can squish with your thumb. But there's also what we call the skreech. Three types of eight legged assholes who have banded together to make our lives miserable. Trappers, breeders, and haulers.

"What you saw today was a trapper. Their bodies are about twice the size of your head, but the legs make them look a lot bigger. Trappers capture other animals. They're not overly particular. They'll take whatever wanders into their webs, but their favorite prey is a female sasquatch, followed closely by centaur women. If we hadn't of come along when we did, that trapper would have bit your woman on the neck and immobilized her with its venom. The venom doesn't kill you. It doesn't even put you to sleep. But whatever it is that the trappers got in their vicious little teeth, it makes your muscles useless.

"Once you quit twitching, a female breeder comes to pay a visit. She shoots a shit load of unfertilized eggs into whatever hole suits her fancy. Mouth, butt, pussy: she don't care. If it is warm and wet inside, it's fair game.

"The males follow close behind, one breeder, one trapper, and a hauler. You probably know what their job is. Yep, they fuck every hole the female breeder stuffed full of eggs and keep at it until they shoot enough spider jizz to fertilize each egg a thousand times over. I'm not talking about ten or twenty eggs. It's more like a hundred, per hole. When they're done being romantic, they wrap you up in a silk cocoon and leave your ass hanging in the web. You can't move, you've just been raped by a of gang of eight-legged dicks, but you're still alive; still hearing, still breathing, and worst of all still seeing, cause they leave three holes in the cocoon. Two for your eyes and one for your mouth.

"A hauler is nearly as big as I am. His job, once he's stuck his oversized cock in every hole he can, is to chew you out of the web and drag your unfortunate ass deep into their cave. When he gets you to their lair, he spins a web that hangs you upright from the ceiling and then spins a different kind of web that collects condensation and funnels it directly into your mouth.

"Any questions so far?" Harold asked.

"Yeah. You mentioned the female breeder. She deposits the eggs in her victim's body. Aren't there any female trappers and haulers?"

"Nope. All of the trappers and haulers are male. Best we can tell, the female breeder eggs can turn into any three of the species, depending on which male's seed wins the race."

"Fair enough," I said. "But why do they give their victims water if they intend to kill them?"

"To keep you alive. A healthy sasquatch or centaur can go at least twenty days without food, but only a couple of days without water. They don't want you to die of dehydration, they need you alive for the last stage of the game.

"Remember the hundred eggs trapped in each one of your holes? And the torrent of sperm surrounding them. It takes time for those eggs to turn into baby spiders; ten maybe twenty days until those hatchlings break out of their shells and go looking for something to eat. That's why the spiders give you water, why they keep you alive. They don't want their offspring to eat spoiled food. Spiders thrive on fresh meat. That's what'll kill you. The hatchlings will eat their way out of your body, through the cocoon, and eventually take their place in this circle of death."

We walked the last quarter mile in silence. The dirt trail led us past a medium sized wheat field and through a copse of trees. Stopping a hundred yards short of a small farmhouse, Harold sat on a fallen log and invited me to sit next to him.

"I want you to wait here for a few minutes while I fetch you some clothes," he said. "Probably best that you aren't completely naked the first time you meet Gabriel."

"Is Gabriel your wife?"

"Yeah. The woman you're gonna be having sex with ... if I can talk her into it."

"Can I assume that the spiders have something to do with me screwing your wife?"

"Sorry, I forgot that you're not from around here. It's probably best I give you all the dirty details before you meet Gabriel.

"Two days ago, she walked into a trapper's web. It was hung right there in those trees we just passed through and, somehow, she didn't see it. Gabriel yelled and screamed but Leif and I were working down by the creek and couldn't hear her."

"Is Leif the centaur?" I asked.

"Yeah. He and I own this farm together. Anyways, Erica, that's Leif's wife, she heard my wife screaming and ran over to help, but it's too late. The trapper had already got Gabriel immobilized and the male skreech were in the middle of doing their dirty deeds."

"Your wife has spider eggs in her?"

"Down her throat, up her ass, and in her womb. The fucking female breeder stuffed my Gabriel chock full of future hatchlings."

"Are they all fertilized?"

"That's the only good news in this story. When Erica got there, the first eight-legged cock had shot his seed up Gabriel's cunny and down her throat, but Erica used a kitchen knife to separate the asshole spider's dick from his balls before he could get it up Gabriel's ass."

"Why is that good news?"

"The spiders didn't fuck Gabriel in the ass. Which means you won't have to."

Harold was definitely an unhappy sasquatch. A big footed fella close to his emotional breaking point. He was trying his best to be patient with me, but, being new to the neighborhood, I still didn't understand why he needed me to fuck his wife. So, I asked.

"Harold, I sympathize with your plight. I understand why you're upset. But I'm missing something. Please tell me why I have to have sex with Gabriel."

"Shit. You don't know. Of course you don't. You're nothing but a mythical creature that fell out of the sky from nobody knows where. I'm a damn idiot to think you would."

I was tempted to nod in agreement but thought better of it.

"You're the cure," he said. "You've got the antidote in your balls. The only thing that will keep those fertilized spider eggs from hatching is the sperm of another species. If you are anything like a sasquatch, your little swimmers are more plentiful and powerful than a spider's. If you fuck her often enough, if you keep the spider eggs in Gabriel's belly and womb immersed in your sperm, they'll counteract what the spiders did to her."

"Why don't you do it? Won't your sperm work?"

As soon as I asked the question, I knew I'd screwed up. The look on Harold's shaggy face told it all, but he still felt obligated to explain.

"I got gored in the balls by a bull. It happened a year before Gabriel and I got married. That's why we don't have any kids and why I have to rely on a complete stranger to save my wife's life."

"There's no other sasquatch willing to help you? A brother, a friend, maybe a cousin?"

"Every other sasquatch with a functional penis is already servicing two women. The damn skreech are everywhere."

"How about a centaur?"

"Anatomically impossible. Have you seen the size of their dicks?"

"Are you even sure my sperm will work?"

"No, I'm not. But you are Gabriel's only hope."

Melody Sundown

Melody Sundown

My first few minutes on Taurus didn't go well. I started screaming when I found myself stuck in a spider's web. I yelled even louder when I saw the gigantic spider heading towards me. And my reaction to the sasquatch and centaur, armed with pitchfork and machete, well that was the ultimate sin of judging people by their appearance. Despite those public displays of weakness, my biggest mistake was to beg David Greene to rape an innocent woman in exchange for our lives.

Okay, let's get to the crux of the matter. I panicked and David didn't. There. I said it. I readily admit that, in extremely rare circumstances, David might be more skilled than me. Those of us with PhD's from Ivy League universities weren't routinely exposed to the vulgar realities of uncivilized society. David was. He grew up on a farm. With absolutely no advanced education, he naturally bonded with the two animals who temporarily took us under their wing.

Except they weren't animals. Despite their outward appearance, their conduct was by far more civilized than that of most men, certainly more gentlemanly than David.

Harold, the sasquatch, was a shy, gentle giant. Standing at least a foot above David, he walked with his shaggy shoulders slightly slumped forward and, although a powerful creature, took utmost care when pulling me free from the spider's web. And that brief moment when his huge hands accidentally got stuck on my boobs; there was no malicious intent. On the contrary, I swear his fur covered face blushed as I pealed us apart.

Leif, the centaur, was the size of a 17-hand horse (five feet eight inches at the withers, the point where his horse-half met his human-half). Unlike a horse, whose neck and head jut forward, Leif's human-body stretched straight to the sky. And what a body it was. Well-toned abs, broad chest, muscular arms, chiseled facial features, all capped by a shoulder length mane of blond hair. Was I physically attracted to him? Of course not. But any other woman would be.

I was hesitant to accept Leif's offer of a ride to his farm. I could hear my grandmother's voice saying,

"Good girls don't accept rides from men they've just met, especially if the girl is naked."

But Leif offered me his shirt, and since I really didn't have any other options, I let Harold grab me by the waist and gently place me on the centaur's back, most likely exposing my barely covered ass to the sasquatch in the process.

Once perched atop the biggest animal I'd ever touched, I realized that my only previous experience with horses was as a child, at a school fair, on a pony, with a saddle, wearing jeans. This was different.

"You're sitting too far back," Leif said. "Move closer to my bare skin half."

I scootched up a few inches.

"A little more please. Keep going until your, uh ... until you can't get any closer."

I know very little about horse anatomy and even less about centaurs. But, by shoving my body further forward than I thought appropriate, I found a natural indentation in his backbone which seemed custom designed to accept a human female's posterior. A built-in saddle.

"Perfect. Now wrap your arms around my waist and clamp down on my hairy half with your legs. We'll take it slow to begin with. Once you get the hang of it, we can step up the pace."

We weren't more than a minute into our trip before he asked the obvious question.

He didn't ask, "What are you?" He already knew the answer. I was the mythical hairless ape of ancient centaur lore. An explanation he was as willing to accept as I took it for granted that he was the centaur from Greek mythology.

Instead, his lead question was,

"How did you get here?"

"I took a rocket ship from Earth to Mars, then a portal to Panternia, and then another portal transported me here."

"I've never heard of a rocket ship or a portal before, but since a no kidding hairless ape is sitting on my back, I'll just have to take your word for it."

He walked in silence for a minute or so, before asking,

"Do all the folks on the other places you've been speak Sastaur?"

"Is that what you call your language?" I asked.

"Yeah. It's a combination of the two different tongues the squatch and centaurs used to speak. We combined them hundreds of years ago to make life easier."

"Over seven thousand different languages are spoken on Earth. Sastaur is not one of them."

"But you're speaking it now. How do you explain that?"

"I really can't," I said. "According to our guide, whenever the portals put our bodies back together, they add the local language to our memories."

He considered my unlikely response for another minute or so before continuing the conversation.