IBP 3021-3032 - Sexual Suicide

After we returned Tess to her Krayl, (and what our physicians and biologists predicted would be a short but intense life), we departed Relium 4 to explore other worlds. I recall thinking at the time that we were leaving the Krayl behind forever. Losing a bright and adventurous girl like Tess to a mindless, short life as a zombie-birther was heartbreaking to say the least.

We visited three planets before we arrived at Ocre, another mining planet that orbited a sun similar to Sol. The trouble with Ocre was that its orbit was within a band of dust, so they only experienced direct sunlight when its elliptical orbit moved it out of the dust belt on the sunward side once each Ocre year which was 181 standard days.

When we arrived in orbit and made contact we learned that Ocre, like Relium 4, was infected by the Krayl as well. If I could choose I would have left the infected planet behind without sending a delegation down the gravity well to the surface, but I was over-ruled; our diplomatic team forced the issue, because Ocre mining firms were processing large quantities of gold and platinum - two metals rare on Earth, but vital in the construction of high speed electronics such as navigation and FTL computers.

I ordered strict protocols put in place; only male members were to descend in our shuttlecraft along with a large contingent of male body guards to ensure their safety. As reports from our surface teams started to arrive from Ocre, we learned that citizens - sick of young women and adolescent girls being abducted by the Krayl to become birthers, had formed militia groups that hunted and killed Krayl on sight. They also - we learned - killed female birthers and butchered the unborn Krayl they carried in their bodies.

It was a drastic measure to be sure, and one that though not sanctioned by their government, was tolerated.

It was six hours into our teams being planet side that on-board security reported a stray drone signal coming from the planet surface - one with the Beagle’s transponder codes. At first they considered that an Ocre drone just happened to have been given the same coding as our own are, but they quickly discarded that theory as being statistically impossible. The drone indeed originated from the Beagle. At the same time they ascertained that one of our young women - Fyn Ragnarsson - was no longer on the ship.

Our security team couldn’t find the encryption code to descramble the data the drone was transmitting, until they leaned on civilian director of the IBP team, Shairn Doubleday, who reluctantly cooperated with a search of their equipment lockers. One of their drones were indeed missing and - again reluctantly - Shairn supplied the encryption code.

It was Fyn - she must have secreted herself aboard the shuttle as a stowaway and made her way to the surface. Once there, she headed away from the main town and into an abandoned ore processing plant. A quick check between our security team and Ocre’s confirmed it - the old processing plant was infested with Krayl.

Once we had the encryption code, our onboard security specialists were able to descramble the data the drone was uploading. What followed was the worst five days of my Captaincy.

We quickly ascertained that the communication via the drone was one-way; we could see Fyn, hear her, and monitor the readings from her biochip, but we could not use the drone to communicate with her.

I assembled a team in the security monitoring room, including security people to locate Fyn and coordinate a rescue by our forces on the ground, plus biologists and physicians to monitor Fyn’s health. I even brought in Shairn to act as a consultant even though I did not trust her; her job was not only to maintain the Interspecies Breeding Program, but also to ensure quality recordings of breeding attempts for transmittal to Earth and other colonies. Apparently, the IBP was the new favoured source for pornography - especially porn created for SensiDek players where the viewer can don a virtual reality headset that plays POV sound, visual, and directly stimulates the pleasure centre of the brain.

As we tracked Fyn’s progress through the huge, abandoned processing plant, our diplomat and security teams on the surface were negotiating permission for Fyn’s extraction. The negotiation was fruitless - their government would not allow off-worlders into areas known to be infected by the Krayl.

We all felt powerless as we tracked Fyn through her adventure ...

We picked her up when she was deep amidst the abandoned buildings, flushed and breathless. The biochip data indicated she was nervous but that was overpowered by excitement. She wanted to be there.

As she picked her way down debris-strewn streets she appeared to both be searching for someone - or in this case - some thing; while at the same time avoiding what appeared to be walking corpses. Our bioteam believed these were surviving zombie-birthers in the last stages of life; girls and women no longer capable of carrying Krayl to term in their bodies and therefore discarded by them. They all appeared to be searching as well - still seeking Krayl to breed with.

By the time Fyn entered a building she could secure from the wandering zombie-birthers, two of our on-board security members returned from searching Fyn’s room; they had brought Fyn’s personal video/audio recorder/player and a few dozen storage sticks. As they sat beside me, they fast-forwarded through dozens of recordings, most of a sexual nature between herself and other teens, some with IBP personnel, and a lot with her and Tess engaging in brutal and intrusive sadomasochism sexual play with each other.

I had to suppress a gasp when I saw that one of the participants in the sex parties was my own daughter. I logged the information away for my own personal investigation later on.

The security team located a series of recordings of Fyn interviewing Tess in the ship’s med bay taken when she was last on-board the Beagle and before her voluntary return to Relium 4.

We played the video and sound of Fyn and Tess speaking on one monitor while we watched Fyn live from the drone’s broadcast on another as well as the data from Fyn’s biochip displayed on a number of other monitors.

Fyn was laying atop a table, naked from the waist down, her top pulled up to expose her breasts. She was stimulating herself, masturbating lazily, the way girls do when they are edging and not ready to orgasm.

I want it, Tess
it’s heaven ...
how did you find them? they find you ... they are attracted to ... sex ... horny girls ...
how did you know?
I met a birther ... a girl ... she told me ... be horny ... they find that ... that’s how they know you are ready ...
to be a birther?
yes ... nothing feels better ... it feels like dying ... but ... so much pleasure ... more than pleasure ... so much more ...

come back with me ... I can help you ...
the Captain won’t let us ... she said no more can go down ... maybe not even you ...
then I’ll die ... I’ll kill myself ...
don’t say that ...
I will ...
don’t ...

The tech beside me tapped on the main bio screen, pointing out one of three bars.

“That SA shows Fyn’s rising sexual arousal.”

“And the others?” I asked.

“CF is cognitive function, TC is her core temperature in celcius.” she answered, “If she meets a Krayl and ... engages with it, this data will be invaluable to understanding their breeding process.”

Three other screens showed a variety of bar graphs and an outline of her entire body showing physical sensations in different colours.

“What are those?” I asked.

“Various body functions, hormone levels, sensations, thoughts. We can’t tell you exactly what she’s thinking or feeling, but we can gather a general sense of what is going on for her.”

Suddenly on the drone screen we saw a shadow near her. It was one of the Krayl approaching close - Fyn’s eyes widened in surprise as a number of the bar graphs flickered.

“Fear?” I asked.

“No. Not exactly. Nervousness, excitement I’d say.” the tech tapped the sexual arousal bar - it was creeping upward.

look for them on other planets ... they are everywhere ... spreading across the universe ...
birthers go on ships ... carry their babies on ships ... humans think they’re just sick ...
oh my god ...
go to where they are ... they live in old places ... abandoned places ...
and then?
masturbate ... the biter will smell you and come ... he uses his mouth and tongue then his teeth ...

Fyn was spreading her legs and wrapping them around the shoulders of the Krayl, scootching her bum closer to it - her crotch close to it’s eyeless face and mawing mouth full of long razor sharp teeth.

I had quickly learned to interpret the bioscreen that indicated body functions and sensations and by the look of the sparkles of bright blue dancing over her skin, Fyn was experiencing tingles over her entire body - her nipples and crotch flashing almost white. She was excited, her skin covered in shiver-bumps.

We could see the Krayl’s long tongue slide into her vagina as it gently closed its long teeth over her crotch. Fyn moaned and gasped.

he will bite you ... that’s how it starts ...
it hurts?
yes, but it’s good ... so good ... he won’t bite until you’re ready ... he’ll know when ... you'll cum ...
what happens after he bites?
orgasms ... and you’ll feel confused ... you won’t remember things ... but it’s okay ... it’s not good to remember ...
it scares me ...
don’t be scared ... surrender yourself ... give yourself to them ... then it's good ... you won't be scared then ...
but there’s no coming back ...
no ... never ... but you won’t want to ... you will need to breed ... over and over and over ...
does the bite happen ever time?
no ... just once ... and oh my god, it lasts forever ...

The Krayl biter was licking deep inside Fyn’s vagina, opening her cervix, taking her to a sexual bliss I doubt the girl had ever felt before. She was experiencing rolling orgasms from its tongue and from it teasing her with its long sharp teeth - play bites that showed up as red sparkles on the bio screen. Then we heard the crunch as it bit down on her crotch.

Blood spurted from between her thighs and Fyn’s eyes flashed wide - a bright orange flare of light in her crotch indicated she just experienced a huge orgasm. She was swearing, gasping, crying out, humping her crotch against its mouth. A puddle of milky vaginal mucus grew on the table top as she oozed and dripped.

It bit her again with the same result - a spurt of blood - sexual ecstasy lighting up bright. The tech pointed to the main bio screen and I watched her sexual arousal rise rapidly along with her core temperature, while her cognitive function dropped.

“Holy shit, the infection spreads fast” the tech said, “She’s a zombie-birther now. No turning back.”

Fyn continued to orgasm as the Krayl’s mouth stayed locked on her crotch. She was lost in the experience now, her head lolling back, still rolling her hips in the Krayl’s mouth. He bit a third time and soon after released her.

Fyn lay there quivering and squirming, still having orgasm after orgasm. The Krayl withdrew.

after they bite you ... infect you ... you belong to them ...
you get pregnant then?
no ... find the big ones ... the biter doesn’t have a cock ... the big ones do ... they put babies in you ... three at once ... it’s so good ...
you had three inside you ...
yes ... three ... all birthed at once ... you have to find the midwife ... look deep ... in safe places ... the midwife helps you ...
it looked scary ...
so much bliss ... they move inside ... crawl out of you ... the midwife helps you ...
you said that ...
orgasms ... so many orgasms ... everywhere ... throat ... ass ... cunt ... they move inside you ...
and after?
start again ... find more big ones ...
how long do birthers live after they start?
I don’t care ...

We watched Fyn roll on her side and curl up on the table-top, her hands trapped between her thighs, cupping her wounded crotch. She was shivering and we weren’t sure if it was from the rising fever of her infection spreading, or the ongoing sexual arousal. She lay there for three hours and we watched her mind disintegrate, her sexual arousal rise high, and her core temperature reach critical levels.

When she finally arose, she appeared confused. After a few moments she slipped her pants on - glimpses of her crotch and inner thighs revealed a mess of blood and milky vaginal mucus.

On unsteady legs she made her way out of the room and wandered through the old wooden buildings, her sexual arousal and core temperature still high and her cognitive function far below the marker for mental retardation. Her limbic system was throbbing orange - Fyn was desperate to breed and was driven by only that as she searched for a breeding trio.

Fyn was lost to us. Lost to herself. She was now governed by only her sex drive which had been pushed into overdrive. She NEEDED to be impregnated, because if she wasn’t she was convinced she would die.

She at last found a trio of Breeders in a dark corner of a small building. As each of the monstrosities turned their misshapen heads toward her, Fyn peeled off her sweat damp clothes. She walked into their midst, their long fingered hands caressing her pale body, she closed her eyes and shivered at their touch.

Though the light was dim and the image grainy, we watched the Breeders push her face-down on her belly over a table. As one gripped her hips from behind and eased his cock into her, Fyn moaned and it sounded like gratitude.

The first one fucked her vaginally until it ejaculated its large ovum and spermatozoa and as Fyn moaned from the pain of it being pressed hard through her cervix into her uterus, the other two took her simultaneously - one orally and one rectally.

I watched the bio screen sparkle brightly as she experienced orgasm after orgasm from being taken anally and orally - two more ovums and spermatozoa being forced down her throat and deep in her bowels. Though the appearance of the Krayl are hideous and they were rough with her - even brutal by human standards - Fyn herself was in a state of sexual bliss with rolling orgasms causing her to undulate her lithe body the entire time.

When they were done with her, her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor.

We learned from the Ocre scientists that the three types of Krayl were;

Biters: a small and rare Krayl whose sole purpose is to build the foundation of each captured female to associate the process with intense sexual pleasure. They then bite the captive, their long, sharp fangs acting like hypodermic needles that inject the pathogen deep into muscle tissue to create an acute then chronic infection that hijacks the limbic system and destroys brain cells associated with memory and cognition.

A Biter can infect over a thousand females in its lifetime.

Breeders: This large Krayl type travel in threes and rape the birthers - although it is questionable to call it rape given the sexual cravings the zombie-birthers experience from the infection.

A Breeder’s penis is large, averaging 30 centimeters in length and 9 centimeters in diameter. This size is to accommodate the overly large urethra for the ejaculation of the walnut sized ovum and long, powerful spermatozoa driven into the zombie-birther’s body, carried by a gush of oily fluid.

Midwife: This even larger Krayls sole purpose is to assist the zombie-birther to birth the Krayl offspring by roughly manipulating her body. Zombie-birthers usually birth three infant Krayl at a time - one from the stomach, one from the uterus, and one from the bowels.

Once a zombie-birther is impregnated and overwhelmed by the rapid growth of the Krayl inside her, she seeks out a midwife to keep her safe from predators and from being bred again while pregnant by the large birthers.

After her impregnation, Fyn dressed and wandered for hours, searching out hiding places where a Krayl midwife might be found - typically at the bottom of elevator shafts, in dead-end mineshafts, or other small places that are easily defended.

She found none.

She stumbled across an old cold storage room only to find it littered with the hacked remains of a dozen infant Krayl and a dismembered midwife.

Checking in with Ocre security forces, they confirmed that vigilantes had reported killing a midwife in the area two days prior.

For three days, Fyn wandered and searched - confused and afraid. She spent the dark nights huddled in tiny spaces, shivering and masturbating as she felt the Krayl inside her stirring as they grew.

In the early morning hours of the third day, Fyn was dragged from the cabinet she was hiding in and raped by another Breeder trio. During the encounter, the drone broadcast one of the Breeders eating the flesh of a dying zombie-birther which foreshadowed Fyn’s ultimate fate - it appeared the Krayl found nutrients where they could, even by devouring used-up birthers.

Two of the Breeders took her anally, one right after the next, and the third fucked her throat. We could hear the weariness in her voice as she moaned, gagged, and heaved her way through seven violent orgasms. When she staggered away pulling up her pants, she was sore and spent. Though her sexual arousal remained high, her legs were wobbly and weak - Fyn was exhausted and near collapse.

Our lead Biologist opined that with three Krayl growing in her bowels, another in her uterus and two more in her stomach, even if Fyn found a midwife at this point, it was doubtful she would survive the arduous birthing process - birthing one from each orifice was sometimes fatal, birthing six was impossible. Research from Ocre indicated that if a birther was unsuccessful, the infant Krayl would rip her apart from the inside in order to emerge, her body then becoming food as she lay dying.

Fyn was doomed.

It was on the fifth day that our own security team on the surface reported a vigilante group had entered the area Fyn was in to continue their purge of the Krayl infestation.

News spread through the ship that Fyn was in immediate mortal danger and the observation room filled to capacity as department heads came to watch.

I had survived on cat-naps in the ready room, snacks, and stimulant drinks to stay close to the monitors for five straight days, so my own energy was ebbing. Had I been on my game I would have cleared the room to only critical crew members - I was just too exhausted to care.

The drone followed Fyn as she ran through old abandoned buildings, the sound of the marauding vigilantes all around her. Like many of the zombie-birthers she had sought shelter in a large maze-like building and was stumbling along just ahead of the people determined to kill her.

The screams of other birthers being hacked to death could be heard in the distance.

Fyn found herself trapped in the building when the vigilantes set fire to one end and rushed in, killing the Krayl and zombie-birthers as they fled the flames.

Fyn was exhausted, her legs gave out on her multiple times as she ran. She stumbled and fell over and over as the rapidly growing Krayl inside her squirmed and threw her balance off.

My heart was breaking as I watched desperate Fyn stumble and claw her way up a flight of wooden stairs and collapse to her knees, panting and gasping, clutching her swollen belly. She did her best to hide, but the sudden sound of a vigilante pounding up the stairs caused her to struggle to her feet to try to run again.

She could no longer stand - she made it no further than a half crouch when the vigilante was on her. Though her brutal death was swift, it seemed to go on forever. Reviewing the recording later it only took 21 seconds for the vigilante to hack her to death, but watching it live felt like a never ending nightmare.

Fyn was rising on trembling legs, still clutching the squirming weight of the Krayl in her belly when a man appeared already swinging the machete downward at her. The blow took her in the crook of her neck, severing muscle and crushing her collarbone. As Fyn fell to her knees, the man grasped her hair and pulled her upright, then thrust the machete through her back and out her upper belly. Fyn arched her back as the blade thrust out of her belly just under her sternum.

“How bad is the pain?” I whispered to the tech beside me.

“Not terrible.” the tech said softly, “Tons of endorphins and she’s still highly aroused.”

Still holding her by the hair, the man tugged the machete out and thrust it back in, this time lower - Fyn looked confused as the long blade protruded from her belly button.

Letting her go, Fyn fell face down and rolled on her back as the man towered over her, bringing the machete down hard into her belly. Fyn grunted, then spread her legs wide, pressed down with her heels, and arched her back, placing her hands palm-down on the wooden floor. Hissing through her teeth, she pushed her belly outward, expanding it.

“Why is she doing that?” I asked the tech.

“... fuck ...” the tech gasped, reading the bio screens.

“What?!” I asked, tugging her sleeve.

“She wants it.” the tech whispered, “She fucking wants it.”

The man hacked at Fyn’s tight, swollen belly to slaughter the Krayl inside her. Fyn squirmed and jerked, but kept pressing her belly upward, taking each deep blow of the machete.

“She’s cumming!” the tech gasped, then catching herself; “Orgasm ... she’s having and orgasm ... a big one.”

A final blow landed hard on her sternum, cracking it open and sinking deep, cutting her heart in two. Fyn grunted one last time and the biochip feed went dead.

We had lost one of our own. Not even a professional breeder - an amateur - a teen girl whose experimentation with sadomasochism had drawn her to more and more brutal forms of sex and ultimately to the kind that killed her.

Afterward, even I felt the need to see one of the ship’s counsellors. She was able to help me resolve Fyn’s death in my own mind by helping me accept that Fyn chose this and her death was orgasmic. She had me focus on that; Fyn willingly presenting her belly at the end to welcome the machete for the orgasmic intensity of the experience. Fyn lived an entire lifetime of sexual bliss in the five days she spent as a Krayl birther, and her death - though brutal for we who witnessed it - was a death many terminally ill women would welcome. She died having the most powerful orgasm of her life.

The other professional I sought assistance from was a ship’s communications tech whom I swore to secrecy. I had him monitor all transmissions from the IBP section of the ship. Within 24 hours after Fyn’s death, Shairn transmitted an edited pornographic sensi-recording of Fyn’s adventure and death on Ocre. She titled it “Krayl Whore - The Life And Death Of A Runaway Teen”. It stayed in the number one position of the SensiDek top-ten porn downloads for twelve weeks. Like the Krayl saliva, sexual contact with alien species was infecting the ship's crew, driving us to perversions and lusts we would never have considered before embarking on this mission. We were losing our moral compass and drifting aimlessly in a sexual universe.

Shairn had lost her moral compass when she edited and sold Fyn's sexual frenzy and death to the highest bidder without any consideration for the girl's family. I was going to have to watch her, and if I found she was enticing girls to their death for her own profit, I vowed to do something about it.

Captain Marg Lethbridge
Prisoner #8738621
Mansbridge Military Prison