4731J-3 Ch. 06

"Ooooooh, Wesleyyyy," she moaned, obviously enjoying the sensation his ass gave her.

Wesley's eyes were bulging, chest heaving in another breath to continue screaming as he was pulled down and into the pit and on top of Glarda'Qua's lower body. His head landed just under the giant breast, a random ejection of its goo raining back down to spatter his face before the strange and terrifying tentacle continued to drag him to its waiting vagina. In seconds, his naked body was covered in her greasy essence, his struggles useless against the tentacle as it wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides, slowly retracting itself while plundering his anus.

All he could do was scream louder.

By the time his feet were inside her, his terror addled mind had half convinced itself that this was all some horrible nightmare that he'd wake from any instant, safe and sound on the Enterprise where things like this didn't normally happen. When he was waist deep in alien cunt, Wesley's maniacal screams abated as the serpentine penis quickly removed itself from his anus to reinsert itself into his open mouth. He shuddered and jerked, trying to scream around the thing as his eyes rolled in complete terror. Then it ejaculated a blast of hot, sticky goo down his throat, then another and another, effectively pacifying him to a twitching, semi catatonic state. Seconds later, his head disappeared, Glarda'Qua's slimy vaginal lips closing tightly over it with a wet smack while her mouth issued a satisfied moan.

Sugarpop

T'vor smiled at the sound of the emergency beacon's anchor pin embedding itself into solid rock, it's short, twittering tone signalling its functional status. She knew smiling was in bad Vulcan form, but that depended on the Vulcan in question.

She'd never felt at home on either world, Vulcan or Earth, but had identified more with her Human father. Perhaps she'd only responded to the love and affection he'd shown her as opposed to her mother's dry, humourless lack of personality. When he died, her mother had no idea what to do with her grief stricken child other than moving from Earth to Vulcan for intensive, traditional disciplines that should have abolished her anguish.

It had been a strain for T'vor, learning to effectively mock those around her. Her discovery of Sybok was the only thing that had kept her sane during those long years of long days. He was a secret she'd kept then, his teachings speaking to her Human side, the side her father had given her. So, while she indeed learned the disciplines her mother wished, she also privately immersed herself in emotional experience, not the least of those being Human sexuality.

She left home on her eighteenth birthday without informing her mother. It was the first step in a journey that led to serving aboard the Enterprise and, consequently, standing on 4731J-3, staring at a functional emergency beacon, properly embedded in rock with a self-satisfied smile.

After Torgo'li had gotten T'vor past the settlement's outer perimeter, he'd warned her that, as the terrain progressed in the direction she wanted to go, it also rose in elevation. He went on to say that if one went in that direction far enough, they would come to the Hardlands, a place outside of Squelchis' realm and that this was a land of evil and madness.

T'vor had been nodding politely until mention of evil and madness. When questioned, however, he could only supply her with vague legends soaked in religious overtones. He said Vrogakk wore the hard land, a long ago triumph of 'Swurk'. According to Torgo'li, it was this Swurk who'd discovered the Hardlands, having survived the madness where someone named 'Squelchis' didn't rule.

More usefully, he'd told her that the edges of Squelchis' realm weren't marked, but was able to give her an approximate distance in steps, (that being Mongo steps). To T'vor's mental calculation, a rough estimate of approximately three point five thousand Mongo steps through the forest loosely worked out to six point four kilometers. Due to a growing suspicion of hers, T'vor had decided to avoid the issue of Swurk, Squelchis and the rest of what felt like a mystical/religious line of questioning. She felt it best that she avoid the appearance of ignorance in a matter that, beyond her personal suspicion, was likely of little importance anyway.

Six point three kilometers later, and as T'vor had suspected, the loose perimeter of Squelchis' realm was also the elevation where the Plasmic mist no longer existed. She'd noticed it thinning from the air a little abruptly, but she could feel no lessening of its effect on her mind. She was relieved to be free of it, could personally attest to Dr. Crusher's belief that its effect was intensifying with the duration of their exposure. Her behaviour had been erratic, the kind of behaviour her mother would certainly disapprove of, though worrying about her mother's opinion was illogical. Ironically, her mother would be the first to tell her this.

Of course, the behaviour in question had been enjoyable for her. Brutally raping Wesley had been particularly enjoyable, though nowhere near as satisfying as her mental domination of Councillor Troi.

Where Wesley was concerned, she did like the acting ensign, though she'd liked him more before the mist. She knew the way he was acting wasn't his fault, but his behaviour triggered a sort of humoured derision within her just the same, and it had to be acted upon.

With Troi, on the other hand, it was personal. From her first unannounced and uninvited 'visit' to her quarters, to all the gently enforced sessions with the intrusively nosy, insipid woman, T'vor had learned a true dislike and disrespect for Councillor Deanna Troi. To own her, to have her practically worship the ground she walked on while standing idly by, watching as Wesley Crusher sexually assaulted her was like a dream come true. In fact, of all the things she'd imagined herself doing to Troi during their sessions, she never could have imagined such a fascinatingly entertaining outcome as the one she was now experiencing.

She liked Dr. Crusher well enough. She was professional and intelligent with a correct touch of humanity, though completely unfit to lead in the current situation. That said, she'd quite enjoyed watching Wesley fuck her. The expression on her pale face had been priceless.

Nurse Alyssa Ogawa, while certainly competent, had always been overly pleasant to the point of being irritating. The fact was that T'vor preferred her as the bimbo she now was, but had few other thoughts of her.

After another one point seven kilometers, her tricorder's readings suggested her elevation was far enough from the plasmic energy of the mist that it wouldn't interfere with the beacon's signal. But even as she enjoyed the satisfaction of having completed her mission, the dark pangs of hunger were stirring and, unless it was her imagination, her mental abilities already seemed to be improving.

"Remember what Torgo'li said about how that Vrogakk guy wore the hard lands?" her father asked.

He was sitting on another small outcropping of the dark gray rock a few meters away. He wore the expression he always did when thinking on something.

"Yes, Dad," T'vor replied. "But that was irrelevant. Primitive cultures often place importance in superstitions and imaginary beings."

"Well, that's as may be, but you gotta remember that what you're dealing with here is Torgo'li's perceptions. Tell me, sugarpop, where is the one place within the plasmic mist that you've seen rocks?"

" ... Around Vrogakk's neck."

"You got it, kid. That's what this Swurk fella brought back with him from the Hardlands. Naturally, when you look at those claws, not to mention those disgusting larvae Torgo'li was eating, it's not hard to figure out that these guys dig for their food. They probably wouldn't like a place like this, a place where there's rocks. No good for 'em."

"Of course," T'vor realized aloud. "The Hardlands."

"And I betcha your mother's logic this Squelchis guy Torgo'li was talking about is actually the mist itself."

"Intriguing," she commented. "As our cognitive and behavioural functions have been severely affected by the mist, a sort of 'madness' if one prefers, the inhabitants of 4731J-3 have obviously evolved within it. The proper functioning of their minds actually require the mist and would be severely affected should they be deprived of it."

"Exactly," her father agreed. "This place is a no-go zone for them."

"You were warned to stay away from the Hardlands," her mother coldly reminded.

She stood just behind the beacon in her long, medium gray robe and white head covering. Her hands were stoically hidden in the garment as her emotionless gaze nevertheless passed judgement on her daughter.

"How will it appear should it be discovered by the Mongos that you have been here? As usual, your impulsive nature is leading you to future difficulty."

"I had to set the beacon, mother," T'vor informed, rolling her eyes.

"After you left the rest of the away team to die."

"I did not leave them to die," T'vor said, her tone irritable now. "I left them with sustenance and a phaser in order to more efficiently complete my mission. I know what I'm doing, mother."

"Now we gotta figure out how to manage your, uh... nutritional needs," her father said with a comical expression, "alongside your environmental needs."

T'vor showed a beautiful smile for her father's light hearted manner as she engaged with this thought. As irritating as she could be, her mother was right in that the Mongos may not be impressed at the knowledge that she'd been to the Hardlands, much less to the knowledge that the land of Squelchis was toxic to the team. It would be the same as telling them they found their god, Squelchis to be toxic. One could never be sure of these things.

"Your logic has been compromised," her mother coldly judged. "Your actions are thoughtless and reckless like a human, like your father."

"Silence!" T'vor suddenly shrieked, whirling on her mother, face twisted in rage and hatred with a leveled phaser. An instant later, her mother was gone and the large, smoking hole in the tree she'd been standing in front of went mostly ignored.

Her father only looked at the spot where his wife had stood with a passive expression before showing T'vor a warm smile.

"We don't need her, Dad."

"Fine with me, sugarpop," he replied.

What would Jean Luc think?

Crusher regained consciousness with a painful start and a loud belch. At first she was confused, had expected the familiar surroundings of her quarters on the Enterprise, and her mind scrambled to catch up to recent history. Helping it along its way was the overwhelming ache in her crotch.

Both her orifices had been reamed many times, she, Ogawa and Troi wailing and screaming as they were passed from Mongo to Mongo until Crusher mercifully slipped into a form of mental shock. She couldn't have guessed at how long it had gone on, how many orgasm's were pounded out of her, but it was almost dark as she lay face down in the pink moss in front of one of the street's huts.

Her belly felt full and her first move was to turn over, getting off of it with a broken moan. Her anus felt like a shuttle could dock inside it and she wasn't sure if she could walk. Looking around, she wasn't able to locate either Deanna or Alyssa, but her eyes stopped at the single boot that lay on its side near the middle of the street. Wondering if it was hers, she painfully shifted her feet enough to feel that she was missing both hers.

And the phaser.

With a pained, desperate moan, she turned over again, forcing herself to her hands and knees for a better look at the boot.

It looked like hers.

Only she and Alyssa were wearing them and the boot in the clearing looked too big for poor Alyssa's little feet.

Quickly scanning the area, Crusher saw only a few Mongos out and about, none of them paying any attention to her. Just the same, she awkwardly and painfully crawled to the boot on the doubt that she could get to her feet just then anyway.

It was her right boot. She'd hidden the phaser in the left. With a breathless curse, she agonizingly raised herself on her knees. Gingerly, she placed her hands on her ass cheeks, gently pushing them together as though this would make her feel less used. Nervously taking another look around, she found the few Mongos in the vicinity still showed no interest. She wondered if they even saw her as they busied themselves with the primitive things that primitive peoples did to get by. One of them, she noticed with a panicked choke, was even then busying himself with a curious examination of the strange object in his hands as he sat on a tall, woven cushion in front of one of the huts.

Crusher's scrambled frontal lobe jammed itself tight, disallowing any quick thinking solution to the problem at hand. Then the problem solved itself when the Mongo vaporized himself.

Crusher's jaw practically hit her chest. She blinked disbelievingly, staring at the palm phaser on the moss where it had landed as her mind tried to process the horror its eyes had just sent it.

None of the others seemed to have noticed.

In a daze, her body jerked forward on autopilot, awkwardly walking on her knees without much notice of the pain until she had the demonic device in her trembling hand. But what would she do with it now? Her utility belt was in their pack and-

"(Groan...)"

The weak vocalization came from between the hut she knelt in front of and the one to its right.

"He... Help..." the weak voice plead.

Crusher knew it was Alyssa before she reached her, cursing her lack of even the most basic medical equipment as vehemently as her decision to send her nurse out alone in a desperate, cowardly and despicably shameful attempt to spare herself.

"Doctor..." she expressed, looking up gratefully at Beverly as she grimly did what she could, returning to the question of how she could hide the phaser until she could get to Torgo'li's hut with Alyssa.

After Dr. Crusher was satisfied that Ogawa wasn't suffering from any broken bones, torn ligaments or disjointed extremities, she somehow managed to get to her feet. Warily keeping an eye on the uninterested Mongos, she then helped Ogawa to hers and they supported one another as they made their painful, awkward way across the street to Torgo'li's gronquila.

Once there, Crusher allowed a sigh of relief. Laying Ogawa on the large bed, she immediately hid the phaser in the pack with their utility belts. After seeing Ogawa off to a more peaceful state of unconsciousness, she stood, staggering to the door with her hands once again on her buttocks.

"Where are you, Troi?" she asked under her breath, not wanting to go back out there, but she had to find her. Who knew what sort of condition she was in?

Her slushy thoughts had been distracted, uselessly staring at the spot she'd recovered the phaser from for an undetermined amount of time until a loud belch interrupted her vacant mind. Fearing she was mistaken, she thought it had come from the end of the street, opposite to the end held by Glarda'Qua's hut. From the door, she could see the other Mongos still hadn't changed their almost lethargic routines, most of them centered around the area of the large hut.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the tall door and slipped outside, staying close to the fronts of the huts while she moved as quickly as she could to the end of the street. Stopping there, she squatted to make herself less noticeable, carefully listening for almost a full minute before she heard a moan from behind a fallen trunk.

Troi was lying face down, arms and legs flung out to her sides as she moaned again. The councillor's anus was already almost back to normal, splattered with Mongo cum that hadn't dried. When she shifted, more seeped from her anus, running down her crotch to what vaguely seemed an abnormally fleshy lipped vagina.

Another painful and discomforted moan came with the movement and Crusher suddenly realized she was trying to get off of her stomach. Remembering how uncomfortable it had been for her when she awoke, she moved to carefully assist. Even before Troi was on her back, Crusher couldn't help but notice the enlargement of Troi's breasts. In her estimation, they were now double Ds, but it was the fluid seeping nipples that commanded the doctor's attention.

"Beverly..." Troi weakly begged.

She seemed conscious of her surroundings and, while she was in no condition to pilot a shuttle, her eyes were at least focusing. Like her anus, Troi's mouth was also splattered with wet Mongo cum, more creating a nastily tangled clot of her own hair on the side of her head.

"I know," the doctor commiserated. "Deanna, we need to-"

"(Braa-aa-arpp!)"

"-we need to get back to..."

"Uuhhh-hh...?" Troi asked.

Crusher didn't hear. She was covering her open mouth with her hand, her eyes wide as she stared in shock between Deanna's legs. What had been an abnormally large clitoris was now six inches of hard, uncircumcised penis. What she'd only a minute ago thought was an unusually fleshy outer labia seemed to be a developing scrotum, suggesting that Deanna's penis probably wasn't finished developing either.

It was enough to make her forget about the self-vaporizing Mongo.

Another pleading moan from the owner of the penis brought Crusher around, though haltingly as she kept glancing at the unlikely genetalia while trying to see to more immediate concerns.

"Um... how do you feel?"

"Hurts," she managed.

"Yes, I... we need to get back to Torgo'li's hut. Can you walk?"

Troi seemed confused by this question, or perhaps the concept of walking. Beverly decided to take this as being unsure.

"I can't find any broken bones or disjointed... joints. Why don't we try to get you to your feet so we can... whatever?"

It turned out Deanna was more capable than Ogawa had been, though heavier to assist to her staggering, unsteady feet.

"Don't look down," Crusher grimly cautioned as she supported the unsteady Betazoid, herself looking down at the woman's bobbing phallus. It wouldn't due for Troi to discover her changed sexual status at the precarious moment.

While this phase of the doctor's mission of mercy didn't go unnoticed by the few Mongo's around the clearing, the two officers were mercifully left alone to reach Torgo'li's gronquila. Crusher was able to lay Troi on the bed beside a sleeping Ogawa, and then managed to lull the busty brunette to dreamland before she could notice anything horribly amiss about her body.

Once she was out, Crusher took the time to have a closer look between Councillor Troi's legs. As her labia seemed to be mutating into a scrotum, what had once been Troi's clitoris now seemed strongly rooted down through where her vaginal canal used to be. She could see how shallow her opening had become, how it looked to be turning itself inside out as her inner labia developed an outer dermal layer.

Taking a closer look at Alyssa's body, she found no more changes to it than she'd seen with her own, other than a more youthful perk. As Alyssa was young anyway, the effect was less noticeable, though Crusher did take note of a complete lack of calluses on the bottom of her nurse's feet. A carefully gentle check of her hands showed none there either.

So, why was only Deanna's body mutating? Another question was why the specific mutation of a penis on a female body? What biological purpose could such a thing serve? On Earth, certain reptilian life forms had the capability to switch genders, but this only happened during a decline in numbers of the opposite sex in the available population. On 4731J-3, the Mongo's had obviously evolved to be suited for specific geological areas, but Troi's case didn't line up with this precedent. Without modern scanning implements, Crusher's limited mind could only deduce two possibilities. Troi's body was either changed through environmental effect for a specific, though currently unknown biological reason, or Troi's body was changing due to a simple, meaningless, random mutation. Or, was it in fact evolution? As a medical doctor, Crusher was well aware that evolution was driven by mutation to begin with.