A Triumph Long Awaited

Gibbons was putting the finishing touches on his Master's gold nanoleaf when the Snodgrass family entered Bethelor's quarters. Linda with her usual expression of smug serenity was wearing nothing but the shield gorget and shimmering gold painted up in intricate and animated patterns of gold body paint of someone who intended to compete in the crisknife competition. Akihiro might have shared his mother's smug self-confidence but not her ability for combat. Gibbons's already low regard for his beloved Beth's choice in boy toy fell even farther as he regarded the youth wearing a cadet's tunic, the youth clearly unwilling or unable to compete in the knife rites. Without a care in the world, Akihiro walked up to Bethelor with his pet Fridle in tow on a short leash and gave Gibbon's Master a passionate kiss on zer lips.
"You look amazing." said Akihiro.
Bethelor blushed and smiled at zer young lover. "Thank you. I am so nervous. You know that the captain and half the senior officers are going to be competing."
"You will do great." said Linda. "Just treat it like it is just any other seasonal festival."
"I wish I had your confidence." said Bethelor. "Does it come standard with your Amazon modifications?"
This made Linda laugh. "It is just a matter of perspective. Just try to enjoy yourself and beating your last best."
Bethelor gave Linda a hug. The transcendent and woman's breasts pressed together as they embraced absent any garments.
"Gibbons, go with Akihiro and serve him as you would me." Bethelor commanded zer butler.
The Knavar butler was taken aback, "But. Master. I. I thought that I would be participating in the closing ceremony?" he half asked half pleaded.
"You were, but Aki and Linda convinced me that I do not want to see you like that." explained Beth. "They made a good point that if I would not be able to look at you the same way if I watched you join in a rape gang. No, you will have the privileged position of serving my boo as his personal foot man."

From her place behind her master, Fridle could see that the Knavar man was disappointed. The Knavar girl wondered if he would still look disappointed when he found out that the other part of that conversation was how interested Akihiro was in breeding Gibbons with Fridle to produce a litter of pure bred pups. Fridle had only known the joys of making love with humans. When the young Knavar girl thought about Bethelor's xeno attendant touching her like that, it filled the girl with anxious dread. An anxious dread that Fridle shared with thousands of Kroxaa females being prepared for their place in this Triumph.

***

Ensconced within Reagan Cooper's personal biogenics lab, the Dranza named SweetDream and Treasure floated in a dreamlike state suspended in a pair of gravity harnesses side by side. Their bodies festooned with monitors, their orifices plugged with tubes.

"Shit!" Reagan exclaimed as she reviewed the latest diagnostic data from her psi-project. "Fuck fuck fuck." The Dranza were alarmed at the human's sudden outburst knowing full well that the only thing that could cause Reagan to grow frantic with panic like this is if there were something wrong with the babies the two green skinned girls carried inside of them. "Gods fucking damnit!" The bio sculptor took a deep breath, placed the mind link tiara on her head, and got to work.

The Dranza grew frightened as the mechanical arms with their terrifying devices began to probe, prod, stab, shock, and burn the green skin xenos.
Deep within the data trance, Reagan sent a quick text to James telling her that a crisis has come up in the lab and that he should start the triumph without her. 'I will be there as soon as I can, good luck in the crisknife competition. I love you.'

When James got the message, he knew that something must be very wrong, had he not had the entire crew of the ship waiting for the celebrations to start, James would have rushed to the lab to see what could freak out Reagan so much as to not use a courier xeno. However, James also knew that, besides moral support, he was not going to be of much help, his skills with a gene-forge being amateur at best. Right now, his duties as captain had to take precedent.
"Everything alright, dear?" asked Tigra.
"I hope so." said James. "But it will have to wait. This Triumph is long overdue."

***

The Triumphal Way was a convincing reproduction of a major thoroughfare from one of Earth's ancient cities at the end of which stood a great ampitheater where the human crew lounged in box seats with their favorite attendants carved into the rock of the asteroid habitat. All xenos not doing essential work were required to attend and line the processional way. First came the humanized Kroxaa males pulling wagons which carried holographic displays showing old pictcordings and holo-projections from the Kroxaa Invasion of 29 AL. Then the saurian slaves carried the projections of their very own wargator being attacked by a seraphim squadron. The images were a compilation of data and flight logs from the human strike force as well as records and recollections of the newly domesticated xenos who were now on display. This was followed by the seraphim themselves, Gamma flight silently floated next down the processional way each of the giant robots dragging a few hundred Kroxaa who had to run to keep up with the enormous machines which dragged them along in cold silence as the crowds of other xenos jeered at the lizard aliens and made free use of the rotten fruit given out to the crowds for throwing.

The next few floats were not carried by Kroxaa, but were being pulled by pairs of Joebizi yoked to the hover wagons and whipped. These wagons displayed the exotic goods and new slaves taken as loot. Scantly clad Lalagos danced on piles of treasure as they sang the praises of humanity and thanked their new masters for freeing them from the darkness of the wargator's larders.

Then came the marching sluts. Thousands of Kroxaa females wearing nothing but high heels doing high kicks in perfect unison. Their arms and legs bound by gravity shackles which forced the freshly captured females to march themselves towards the entrance of the arena which looked to many of the xeno slave girls like the maw of a hungry god that means to consume them.

The finally came James Fujiwara riding bareback atop the dehumanized Ambassador Tnuctipin Branch Snapper. James sat snuggled between his two xeno-wives while the Kroxaa's Chief Matricon Lizindri marched behind them in chains.

For the human crew and their chosen attendants, the show began with a few original songs performed by Zelda Songslut before the first of the Kroxaa males arrived. The males slaves were coraled into the center of the arena as the women circled the ampitheaters periphery. The Lalagos climbed up into the boxes and presented themselves as gifts. Every man, mech, trans, and lady had been matched by the ship's A.I.s with the bunny slave most suited to their tastes. As the wagons were unloaded, the Joebizi were unharnessed and humanized using the portable gene forges the xenos wore around their necks. The long nosed xenos were were made to dance for the crowd under the stern commands and painful blows of a Ligreon choreographer.

When James arrived a shimmering force field blocked the arena's main gate to signal the preliminary of the crisknife competition to begin. "Xenos, defend yourselves. Try not to die, kill if you have to, it is permitted." Came the booming voice of James Fujiwara as he dismounted his riding beast and entered the arena. It was the only warning the Kroxaa males had before the dying started.
Human men, trans, women with amazonian modifications, and two uplifted Gorillas swarmed into the arena. The humans were oiled up and naked but for their shield generators. Each participant carried a pair of blades no more than twenty inches in length which they used to cull the Kroxaa population. The Terran had six minutes to kill, the Kroxaa had six minutes to survive.

When the six minutes had elapsed, those saurian xenos who had survived were congratulated and presented with a non-Dranza, non-Kroxaa xeno female with whom the males were commanded to impregnate. The crowds shouted words of encouragement and gave the occasional pointer to the xenos as they watched the aliens produce a crop of adjinn mongrels.

As the kill counts were tallied, the bodies were removed, and after the crisknife competitors had washed off the blood and sweat from their bodies, Lord Captain James Fujiwara, now dressed in a Vyraxis silk robe, addressed the crowd. "I want to extend a thank you to all participants. Though the debt of blood continues, interest has been paid." The crowd cheered. "Now, for the main event. Tonight's finalists are: in fourth place. Lt. Linda Snodgrass, thirty one kills, Third place is, Oh damn, I guess it is me with thirty nine kills, guess I need to take this thing off." He said dropping his robe to the chuckles of the audience. "Right, anyway. Second place, Major Amandla Turner forty one kills, and in first place with the kill count with forty four, Ensign Bethelor Dixon. Let's have a round of applause for our finalists." The crowd roared as the four champions took their place on a floating platform. "Lt. Snodgrass, do you have a designated dick?"

Linda nodded. "My son, Akihiro." The crowd cheered as the hologram showed an image of the young man in his box seat with a Lalago girl sitting his lap, a Knavar man and woman knelt at his feet, and three Kroxaa women fanned and fed the youth. Aki waved and mouthed the words 'good luck.' Though if Aki was being honest with himself, he was not sure who he was rooting for, his mother or his lover. As it happened, he did not have to worry about it.

The four contestants selected stones from a hat. Each of them chose either a blue or red stone. Once they had selected the pair faced off and competed in a one on one duel of blades. The first person to bypass their opponents shield and touch their bare flesh with their blade advances to face off in the final match.

Bethelor could not believe zer luck, of all the people she could have to face in a knife fight, it had to be him, zer Lord, zer captain, the man who paid zer salary, and had a jaw line that you could cut glass with. Get it together. It is a friendly match, we are all equal in the ring, ignore how gorgeous he is and fight. Bethelor took a deep breath and tried to get zer hand to stop shaking as zhe charged at James.
James felt sorry for his opponent, not because he was that much better than zer, but because zhe ought to be better than him but was suffering from some sort of performance anxiety. James had seen what ensign Dixon could do, but something was preventing zer from peak performance. James had seen this happen before, but never in such an awkward situation. He almost thought about throwing the match but decided that would go against the spirit of the competition. With his right, James was able to knock Bethelor off balance and with his left he slid the knife through the shield and prick Bethelor in the ribs. The crowd roared, James congratulated Bethelor and gave the trans a hug before both turned to watch the other match.

Linda was locked in cold and moved with graceful precision, but fighting Amandla was like fighting the mist itself. The ship's chief of security seemed to always be just out of reach, always just moving the necessary inch out of the way before turning around and flowing into a furious storm of attacks. It took all of Linda's enhanced reflexes and every watt of power her cybernetic muscles could provide to keep up with the trans fighter. It really could have gone either way. The Amazon and the Transcendent were equally matched. It all came down to an ephemeral moment of chance when one of the fighters would inevitably make a mistake. In this particular match, Linda was the one who got ever so slightly distracted by her son suddenly shouting. "Go Mom! Go on and give that Tranny that 'Zon treatment." The tiniest part of her concentration used to try and understand what Akihiro had said was too much for Linda to spare and in a flash Linda had found Amandla's knife through her shield with its edge to her throat.

***

Ambassador Tnuctipin Branch Snapper's humanized breasts bounced up and down as she danced for The Master Race. She winced from the harsh blows of the overseers, but ignored the pain and focused on the joy of being surrounded by humans and the pure joy that it was to perform for their pleasure. The Joebizi found it odd that despite the fact that the humans seemed to truly hate her kind, they had blessed Tnuctipin and the rest of the ambassadorial team with the ecstatic bliss and feeling of pure contentment which came from submission to The Master Race. Tnuctipin was so focused on tuning out anything that was not shaking her humanized tits and ass for the crowd that she did not notice the handlers until they had already gotten their hands on her and three of the other Joebizi dancers.

"Before we have the final match, I want to say a few words and maybe catch my breath before I have to tangle with this tough trans xenofucker." said James to the crowd's amusement. "As you all know. We found evidence of the location of a lost tribe of humanity and we discovered that this particular example of alien filth has been holding them in bondage for over four centuries."

Tnuctipin was brought before her Master, Lord captain James Fujiwara. The man radiated an aura of such power and grace that Tnuctipin had to stop herself from wrapping her trunks around him then and there. Tnuctipin yelped when her Master grabbed her by her hair and pulled into the embrace of his strong, powerful arms with their rippling muscles. Tnuctipin felt James's fingers tighten around her throat and discovered new levels of delight. Then James pressed the button. No!
The micro-geneforge built into the Joebizi's collar went to work. Tnuctipin did not know which was worse, the pain of having her body stretched and twisted back into her original form, or the feelings of loss and ugliness that always came when she was dehumanized. The Master Race in their benevolence had blessed her with a body like theirs, a body that Tnuctipin knew was made in the image of The Divine. Being forced to return to her natural base form made all the Joebizi feel a sense of loss and shame. The feeling of her owner's bare skin on her back as he mounted her for riding was only a small comfort.

From atop the alien beast the size of a hippo, James continued his speech. "These nine noses will learn their place. We are aware of The Alliance Navy's squadron guarding their system and we have a plan for them. They will not stop us from fulfilling The Prime Directive and reuniting with our fellow humans and rescuing them from their oppressors, nor will it stop us from carrying out The Second Directive and domesticating this race of wild xenos." The crowd cheered. "Major Turner, Lt. Snodgrass, Ensign Dixon. Please accept these gifts with my gratitude. You are all now among the first to own a Joebizi."

The crowd cheered. The Joebizi stood nervously as they were chosen. Once they had picked out their new pets, Beth and Linda thanked the captain and exited the arena riding their new nine nosed xenos.

***

As the arena was prepared for the final match, Amandla whispered to James. "What do say if we make this interesting?"
"What did you have in mind?" James asked.
"Losers studs a bastard with the sow of the winners choice." Amandla answered.

James's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had heard of people making such bets, but he had never placed his own progeny on such a wager. He knew that his father definitely would not approve, but his father was a long ways away, this was his expedition, out here in frontier space, he was the one making the rules. James looked at Amandla and could not stop himself from thinking about which of his broodlets zhe would pair with.

Amandla could smell the interest and arousal wafting from James as he considered the wager. Amandla had always heard that two kinds of people one makes bets with their bastards on the line, people who you trust or the people who you loathe. For Amandla, when it came to James it was a little of both. It was a way of getting close to someone and sometimes get a little leverage over the sentimental. Amandla had James pegged for someone sentimental. Owning his bastard would come with many benefits, to say nothing of the usual delights of domination.

"No Dranza." said James.
"Of course." said Amandla with a nod.
"Well, this is exciting." said James shaking the hand of the trans.

The arena was prepared. Amandla and James dueled atop the floating platform as the Kroxaa females were compelled by their gravity shackles to march into the center of the arena. With knives in hand, the transcendent and the man dueled for the crowd, both determined to become the day's champion.

(Leave your thoughts in the comments on who wins the Dune-style knife fight: Amandla or James?)

***

"Alright!" said Zophot, shaking with excitement and slapping Lrgo Cloverlin on the back. "The gates are about to open." The Knavar gestured to his hardon. Like all the ceremony's breeding studs, they had been fitted with a cumtroller rings around their genitals. The A.I.s that were controlling the devices triggered them. The simultaneous arousal of hundreds of men could only mean that the champion of the crisknife fight was fucking the Kroxaa queen and giving the chief matricon the honor of carrying a demi-human child.

The rest of the Kroxaa women looked around to see themselves surrounded by horny humanized dog-xenos with a scattering of other males that the saurian matrons could not help but think of as food staring at the naked ladies like they were the food.

Two things happened at once. Every Kroxaa woman in the arena found herself suspended in mid air with her arms and legs stretched apart by their gravity shackles, leaving the tall, powerful predatory women helpless and vulnerable and the shimmer fields that separated that rape gang from the Kroxaa women disappeared.

Lrgo had to run or be trampled by the stampede of his fellow breeding studs. The Vreebach really did not want to be here, doing this, but it was important to Taxala because it was important to the captain. The same captain who had honored Lrgo by taking his daughter as a whore. Lrgo took a deep breath and ran towards the nearest saurian slut hanging in the air that did not currently have a cock in her cunt. Lrgo saw the woman struggling in her shackles, pure hatred in her eyes. Lrgo reminded himself that these were the same creatures who had come to his world, destroyed his birth tree, and killed most of his extended family. These were the same monsters that had haunted their skies for centuries, capturing innocent men and women, locking them in cages and force feeding them rotten meat until the drug tumors consumed their bodies.

Lrgo found that moving the Kroxaa around was easy, the gravity shackles she wore adjusted themselves to any height or position Lrgo wanted. This was fortunate since the saurian xeno would have towered over him. As Lrgo shagged his chosen breeding on her back while he stood up, he saw that the Knavar tended to pull their chosen mates to the ground and grind their faces in the sand, the xeno-dogs generally preferring to take their bitches from behind.

Lrgo took his time and enjoyed himself. When he finished and filled the Kroxaa's womb with his seed, he was once again hard and ready to go again within seconds. Lrgo had known that he would be expected to impregnate multiple women, but it was only then hitting the Vreebach what that really meant. For a man who had only ever been intimate with one woman, to betray a centuries old vow of fidelity was no small thing, doing it thirteen times while the humans watched from on high was something that changed a person.

Lrgo Cloverlin grabbed a sobbing Kroxaa woman and put her on her knees and elbows in the sand. As Lrgo looked up at the cheering crowd, he wondered if his wife was watching. He knew that some of his sons and daughters would be serving some of the crew in their boxes, what would they think of him now after seeing him like this? Lrgo reassured himself that they would think that he was doing what needed to be done to serve humanity and please his radiant lord.

Lrgo saw some of the Kroxaa females floating away, all of the saurian sows had been prepared for fertilization. When the biomonitors in their bangles confirmed that fetal gestation had begun within the Kroxaa woman's womb, their gravity shackles' effector fields lifted the aliens newly pregnant with hybridized mongrel breeds were taken to be prepared for storage and transport.

***

As the rape gang carried out its violation of the Kroxaa women, Sam Gatch led the psionic choir in an attack on an alien god. The xenos loaned their psi-power to their masters who focused and amplified the ritual's effects in the higher and lower dimensions. With a single will, the psionic choir projected their will and their word into the phlogistic ether. "Kruxmaw, demon lord of the Kroxaa." The choir sang. "See this, hear this, know this. We have brought your champions low. Your chosen are our slaves. Their seed shall be blended, their children shall be mongrels. Their posterity will submit to our dominion for all time. Their strength shall serve us forever. We will do this to all of your misbegotten kind. Know us Kruxmaw, We are mankind, We are the children of Terra and Sol. You owe us a debt of blood, and we shall collect upon it."