Seedwaster (or, Captain Chasteway’s Continuing Mission)

Chapter 1

Pam stirred in her sleep. The bed was shaking, slowly, almost imperceptibly. Had she been awake she’d have wrinkled her pretty nose in disgust, knowing exactly what was causing the motion.

Alan, the man she’d been married to these last fifteen years, the man lying in the bed next to her, was masturbating again.

But Pam was dreaming, and her dream was mercifully diverting her mind away from the foulness of her husband’s nasty little habit. It was a weird dream, prompted perhaps by her subconscious awareness of the slow, controlled progress Alan was making towards his pig-selfish climax. A very vivid dream, remarkably lucid. It was one of those rare dreams that you know is a dream while you’re dreaming it.

She was on the bridge of an immense starship. She stared, fascinated, at a huge video display illustrating the ship's rapid progress past the beautiful rings of Saturn, across the orbit of massive Jupiter with its numerous moons, and through the asteroid belt towards Earth.

Alan’s normal wanking technique, whenever he had the bedroom to himself, was fast and furious. This was not a man who appreciated finesse. He would pump his penis almost brutally with his right hand, while ramming as much of his left hand as possible into his arse. His frenzy of powerful, rapid strokes would quickly culminate in a totally-uncontrolled orgasm, cum flying everywhere. Pam sorely wished he’d do her the courtesy of clearing up after his little solo orgies, but no. He usually just wiped his hands on whatever was nearest at hand (her pillow was one of his favourites), then he’d put his clothes back on and let his underpants absorb anything that was left on his cock and belly. Pam always knew when he’d been doing it. Alan never seemed to notice the smell of his own cum, but to Pam it was an unmistakeable, acrid giveaway, wafting around him like an invisible cloud of uncontrolled, self-gratifying maleness. She hated it.

But the urge to wank wasn’t something Alan could turn on or off. It was always with him. Even when he was in bed, with Pam asleep beside him, he just had to do it. He’d very quickly developed a different technique for these occasions -- a strictly-disciplined technique, with his body held straight and taut, and using steady, slow, surreptitious strokes. He reasoned that, this way, each careful caress of his penis could have maximum effect without setting up the rhythmic shaking of the bed that often happens when masturbating. He really thought Pam would sleep on, quite unaware of what he was doing.

He was mistaken. Pam always knew when he masturbated. She would lay there, half asleep or feigning sleep, hoping he’d get it over and done with in the least possible time.

Often she’d wish he could think about her, for once, and make real love like they’d done in those first few, blissful years of their marriage. Oh, sure, they still did make love, if you could call it that. But it was always at her instigation, and Alan’s incessant masturbation habit meant he was always depleted, empty of cum and devoid of desire. He seldom managed to orgasm before his fragile erection subsided.

Occasionally she would grant him access to her arse. On those rare occasions he could still get a reliable erection -- it was an incredible turn-on for him, and it gave him the false impression that he was mastering her. The grip of her tight little rosebud was so delightfully firm, and it could squeeze an orgasm out of him even when his cum reservoir was almost dry. Pam herself sometimes got a sort of second-hand orgasm through the thin membranes that separated the rectal cavity from her vagina, so it pleased her to some extent, but she always felt it was a second-best, a last resort.

She really couldn’t remember the last time Alan had sown his seed on fertile ground.

Even as Pam cast her eyes over the banks of controls on the starship’s bridge, and heard the gentle thrumming of the warp drive that was propelling the starship through space, she could feel the little, surreptitious movements of the duvet as Alan slowly approached the climax of his quasi-Tantric masturbatory ritual. She knew he would eventually come, of course, his sticky white seed erupting in stringy gobbets into the sparse, curly hairs that covered him twixt cock and belly-button. He’d then use his hands to spread the stuff over his lower body, intending it to be absorbed quickly by the duvet cover without (he hoped) leaving a concentrated, telltale stain.

Pam loathed his disgusting masturbation habit. But even more, she despised his pathetic attempts to hide it.

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"Pam, I’m so happy to meet you at last!"

Pam’s attention was brought back to her quasi-dream. The starship’s Captain, an attractive woman dressed from neck to toe in a tight-fitting black lycra-type costume, had risen from her seat on the bridge and was talking to her.

"The pleasure’s all mine," replied Pam, "but I’m a bit confused. What d’you mean, meet me at last? Look, I don’t usually have science-fiction dreams, though I have to admit I’m really enjoying this one, Miss, er .."

The Captain smiled. "Let me explain" she said. "I’m not ‘Miss’. I’m Captain Penelope Chasteway, of the Galactic Council starship Virtue III. And I’m afraid you’re not dreaming. This is real. You’re still in bed, but we’ve taken the liberty of beaming up a temporary clone of you. You have a problem, and I needed the opportunity to discuss it with you without being interrupted."

It was just at this moment that Alan came.

Pam was nearly jerked back to the connubial bed, but an observant bridge crew-woman noticed what was going on. "Orgasmic interference detected, Captain" she said briskly, making quick computer adjustments. "Now stabilised."

For a few seconds the duplicate Pam held on to the Captain for support. The stench of hot, fresh male juices briefly pervaded the bridge until the air-conditioning carried it away.

"Are you OK?" asked Captain Chasteway, placing a concerned hand on Pam’s shoulder.

"No problem!" replied Pam, sighing. "But it’s weird. Like being in two places at the same time."

"You are in two places at the same time" said the Captain, matter-of-factly. "And that was a pretty good example of the problem we’re here to help you with!"

"But how on earth did you know?" queried Pam. "Sure, he’s always doing that. I hate it, but it doesn’t upset me now as much as it used to. I just try to put the disgusting beast out of my mind while he’s doing it."

"We’ve been picking up your distress calls for months now. Did you realise that the unhappiness caused by a partner’s masturbation sets up strong signals that can cross the galaxy faster than light? We were operating over by Epsilon Eridani when your own signals started to come in. We wanted to respond earlier, but we were busy trying to deal with a self-abuse epidemic out there until yesterday. It was awful! The men had absolutely no idea how much planet-wide agony their selfish habits were causing!"

"Did you get the problem sorted?" enquired Pam. She wasn’t really interested. Just making conversation.

"You’re so brave!" purred the Captain. "Worried about the problems of the Universe above and beyond your own problems! Yes, we sorted the problem. We just had to inject a catalyst into the EE-III atmosphere that would render all males, of every planetary species, subservient to their female equivalents.

"But Pam, that’s done now. We’re here to help you. Our ongoing mission is to rid the galaxy of Seedwasters. That means whole male populations like those on Epsilon Eridani III, but also individuals like your Alan. Seedwasting causes so much distress, so much frustration! We have a special commission from the Galactic Council to seek out and eradicate wankers wherever we find them. There are currently thirty-eight starships operating in your corner of the galaxy and dedicated to this cause. It’s not enough, of course, but we do feel our efforts are having a significant impact your sector’s sex-crime statistics."

"Hey, wait a minute!" interrupted Pam. "You said ‘eradicate’. What do you mean by that? Are you intending to kill all masturbators? I mean, hell, I don’t like what Alan does, but he doesn’t deserve to die for it!"

"Great Vnorg, no!" replied Captain Chasteway, shocked. "Come and watch this."

The Captain led Pam to a corner of the bridge where, on a small, 45-inch screen she could see her own bedroom.

"That’s your Alan, sound asleep now that he’s finished his seedwasting activities for tonight. And Pam, that’s you lying beside him. But you’re also here, six hundred million miles across space, on the bridge of the Virtue. Watch carefully -- we’re just about to beam down a couple of technicians with a very special device for your partner."

As she spoke, Pam saw a sort of fuzzy presence appear on-screen, at the foot of the bed where she and Alan were sleeping. The presence resolved into two humanoid, very naked bodies. The female one bore a single-stripe tattoo just above her right nipple, which Pam later learned indicated her rank as Lieutenant. The male bore no badges of rank but his body was beset with appliances (some of which were clearly invasive) that clearly indicated his status as a slave. He was carrying a small bag.

"Pam," said Captain Chasteway urgently, "we do need your authorisation now. The people you can see on the screen are Lieutenant Ohoro and her voluntary male slave Tosser Yar. They’re ready to put a stop to your partner’s masturbatory habits. If you approve, they’ll apply a device to that penis, preventing him from ever wanking again. Are you content that we do so?"

Pam thought. "Well, I think so," she responded carefully. "But why are they naked?"

"Oh, it’s mainly personal preference. But it does simplify things for the matter transfer beam. It’s cheaper, too. We work on a pretty tight budget."

Pam had read about chastity belts on the internet. She had even considered obtaining one, but she could never figure out how she’d persuade Alan to wear it. And anyway, she didn’t want his cock locked up and unavailable. Hell, that lovely, thick, pointy cock was one of the reasons why she’d married him in the first place! If these intergalactic Amazons were planning to lock it away for ever in some sort of hi-tech prison, she might as well just divorce the bastard and look elsewhere.

"Where would it leave me?" she asked. "Will he still be able to give me sexual pleasure? Will I be able to play with him? I don’t want both of us to be deprived of his cock!"

Captain Chasteway took Pam’s arm and led her away from the screen. "Don’t worry, Pam. Our Mission Statement prevents us from doing anything that could detract from a Seedwaster’s ability to pleasure his sexual partner. Look at the bag that Tosser Yar is holding. It contains a little device that Lieutenant Ohoro can fit onto Alan’s cock. It looks perfectly innocuous -- just a cock ring, you might think, pure gold and very ornamental. But made of a special gold with an altered molecular structure, and it’s got electronic innards. It receives sub-ether signals that will totally prevent him from seedwasting."

"How?"

"He just won’t be able to put his hands near his cock. If he tries, the device creates a sort of mental field that reminds him of his other responsibilities. The vows he made when he married you, for instance. It puts a complete stop to masturbation. Every time he wants to wank, his mind gets fed into a loop that makes him want to pleasure you instead."

"What? You mean he stops looking for his own sexual pleasure and starts thinking about mine for once? Does he remain sexual himself? I don’t want a eunuch for a husband!"

"Oh Pam! Have some faith in us! That’s not how it works! He’ll be desperate for sexual relief, perpetually horny, and it’ll be entirely up to you if he gets his rocks off!"

Pam thought. The idea of having a husband who couldn’t wank, whose only desire would be to please her, did have a certain appeal. She returned to the screen that showed four naked people in her own bedroom -- two asleep in bed; two alert and ready to set to work. Suddenly, for the first time, she became aware that she -- the ‘she’ on the starship - was stark naked too! But somehow it didn’t seem to matter.

She watched the screen as Tosser, the slave male, reached into his bag and withdrew a discreet-looking gold band. It was about half an inch wide, and no thicker than a two-euro coin. It looked big enough to fit over Alan’s cock, but she wondered how they’d get the thing past his balls.

"Look, Pam," interjected Captain Chasteway urgently, "I really have to choose now between giving Lieutenant Ohoro the go-ahead or aborting the mission. We’ve had another call for help in - " she consulted the screen by her chair - "Australia. Shall we ... ?"

"Yes! Do it!" Pam interjected. Her mind was made up. "Captain Penelope, I trust you. All I hope is that you’ll brief me afterwards about that -- ‘thing’ -- you’re planning to put on my husband."

"Chasteway to Ohoro!" the Captain’s authoritative voice said. "Go ahead!"

Lieutenant Ohoro acknowledged the order with a nod. Grasping the gold ring with her two forefingers she carefully stretched it until it was big enough to pass over the man’s spent, limp prick and empty balls. Pam watched, fascinated, as the lieutenant approached the sleeping form of Eric, passed the expanded ring along his cum-smeared cock, then gently eased the balls through and manipulated the scrotal sac so that everything would be comfortable for him. Eric moaned briefly in his sleep, but did not stir. Gradually the ring contracted back to its original size.

"Nice cock!" murmured Ohoro. "In other circumstances I might be tempted .." But she shrugged her shoulders and returned her mind to the task at hand.

The slave reached into his bag and withdrew a small, black device resembling a cellphone. He passed it to Ohoro, who peered at it closely until a small purple light showed. Apparently satisfied, she placed the device under Pam’s pillow.

"That’s your controller" said Captain Chasteway. "It’s keyed to your personal orgasmic wavelength, so Eric won’t be able to use it. Only you can."

"He’ll try! And anyway that gold stuff seems to stretch easily. He’ll just pull it off!"

The Captain smiled. "The purple light on your controller means the ring’s dimensions are now set permanently until you key in the right commands. He can’t stretch it. If he tries to damage the ring, he’ll just fall asleep. If he grabs your controller and tries to use it, he’ll, um, experience discomfort."

"Discomfort?"

Captain Chasteway’s expression was grim. "D’you know what ‘feedback’ is?" Pam nodded. "If you put a speaker and a mike together, you get a sort of scream that builds on itself, gets louder and louder. Imagine what an orgasm would be like if it did that!"

Pam shuddered.

The Captain turned away to instruct a crew member to beam up the two operatives. The on-screen images of Lieutenant Ohoro and her slave shimmered briefly and disappeared.

"That’s it!" she said, turning back to Pam. "He’s completely yours now. The default setting of the controller prevents him from putting his hands anywhere within four frugs .."

"Frugs?"

"Er, about six inches, of his cock and balls. He’ll never masturbate again unless you authorise it."

"Huh!" responded Pam. "I bet that won’t stop him! He’ll go out to his little workshop and make some sort of remote wanking device. He’s a devious bugger!"

Captain Chasteway smiled. "Have faith, Pam. We’re up to all their tricks!" she murmured, her warm hand resting lightly on Pam’s naked waist.

"Commander Raquel, you have the bridge!"

A tall, slim, extremely pretty officer strode over and seated herself in the Captain’s Chair.

"Pam, I’d like you to come with me to my personal cabin. We’ve a few hours before we have to reintegrate you with your main persona down in, um, Cobham?"

"Oxshott," corrected Pam. Cobham’s a nice part of Surrey, but Oxshott, two miles away, is where the money is. And that’s where Pam and Alan lived.

"- Oxshott, and I want to brief you on the use of your little controller. There’ll probably be time for a little fun, too. If you’d like that?"

Pam looked at the lithe, lycra-clad body of Penelope Chasteway. She had never before felt sexually aroused by a woman. But now she became aware that juices were running copiously down her thighs, juices that hadn’t flowed since the last time she and Alan had enjoyed genuine, honest-to-goodness sex together.

"Yes, I think I would like that!" she declared, snuggling close to her new-found friend as they walked through the corridors of the starship towards the privacy of the Captain’s personal quarters.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Chapter 2

Pam was awakened by hands that gently caressed her body. Not the female hands that had pleasured her so sweetly, so thoroughly during the preceding hours, but rough, male hands. Alan’s hands.

Shit, she thought. It was all a dream after all. But God, it had been vivid! And she could remember it all, in every detail. Usually she had difficulty remembering dreams. This one was different. So lifelike, so real!

Alan’s erect cock was nuzzling her anus. Reflexively she drew away. He’d masturbated during the night, and she didn’t want to reward him for that by granting him access to her tightest hole. Her total instinct was to reject him.

Alan, of course felt spurned.

He’d just woken up, and as usual his hands had reached down to his groin for the personal pleasure he was always seeking. But for some reason his fingers hadn’t found the organ he wanted to caress. His initial, waking thought had been to grasp his piss-hard cock and stroke it. He wasn’t actively seeking an orgasm -- he just relished the pleasure of the hand-on-cock sensation, the knowledge that if he just pumped that little bit harder he’d be overcome with the thrilling, orgasmic feeling that always accompanies the outpouring of one’s own cum.

Half awake, his hands just didn’t seem to land where they usually did. But the urge was there, the urge for satisfaction. Oddly, though, he found that he was thinking of Pam’s satisfaction, not his own. That’s why he had turned towards her. She always tended to sleep lying on her side, facing away from him, so her bum had been the first available part of her. He sighed. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, he mused.

Once again, his hands wandered in the direction of his penis. He was fully awake now, and he quickly realised that he had a problem.

He couldn’t find his cock.

Left thigh OK. Right thigh OK. He could stroke them, and it sent little spasms of desire towards the centre of his attention. But his hands just wouldn’t seem to go anywhere near his brain. Er, his cock. Bloody hell, what was he thinking? There she was, Pamela, lying asleep next to him, and he just couldn’t remember the last time they’d made love!

He began to caress her again, this time keeping his fat, engorged cock dutifully clear of her arse. There was a curious, restricted feeling about his cock, but he couldn’t investigate it because his hands just wouldn’t go there. Oh, well. He contented himself with running his hands lightly, slowly over Pam’s body, seeking to please her without waking her.

Pam was now wide awake though. She couldn’t remember the last time Alan had been so carefully attentive of her body. She pretended to be still asleep, enjoying the sweet sensations of a husband who seemed, for once, to be thinking of her instead of himself.

It had been a dream, hadn’t it?

She could still feel Penny Chasteway’s hands on her body. She could still remember the thrill she felt as she had stripped the lycra from her, revealing a form that was as perfectly human -- and as perfectly female -- as her own. The orgasms they had experienced together were still alive in her. Her sensitive, vulval skin still tingled from the touch of Penny’s tongue. She could still taste the juices that had flowed into her mouth as she licked the firm, protruding clitoris of her interstellar saviour. And above all, the so-sweet sensation of being cuddled and caressed by someone who, she knew for sure, really loved her.

Yes. It must have been a dream.

As Alan’s hands went their gentle, worshipful way over her body, Pam regretted that it had been nothing but a dream. She allowed her body to stir a little, meaning to let him know that she was emerging from sleep. Her hand slid under the pillow..

.. and encountered something. Something hard, about the size of her cellphone. She pulled it out and looked at it. A small, purple light glowed up in the top, right-hand corner.

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© Old Greebo 2003. If you want to copy this to any other web site, or to use it in any hardcopy publication, please seek permission first from Old Greebo at velveteel@yahoo.co.uk

[ Story continues in Chapter 2 ]
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Page last updated 03-Mar-01 by: Altairboy@aol.com