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Thomas Hitchens had had enough. Once he was finished cleaning the mess left on his porch—blood was a bitch to get off of durasteel without one of those fancy-schmancy deatomizers, so the better part of the morning was spent just on that—the man took his trusty ion rifle off the wall of his simple, single-room cabin, donned his breather, and set out to find the damned critter that was eating his chickens and leaving the scraps right in front of his homestead's door.

He scanned the horizon, looking out over the hills and ridges surrounding his plot of land. Over one off in the distance, he could see the twin silhouettes of the planet's moons hanging like turquoise ghosts in the pale-pink sky. The wind moaned with a lonely keen through the crags and over the rocky plains; nothing about for miles. His homestead was remote, separated from civilization, just the way that Thomas liked it; he didn't need any folk from the settlement hub to the south telling him what to do on his land. The only downside was that he had to deal with any problems that cropped up his own damn self.

Problems like the storm that had taken down his oxygen pumps a few months back, or the breakdown of his atmosphere fence, or the animal problem he was having now.

It had started—well, it had probably started long before, but Thomas had started noticing it—a few day-cycles before. He'd woken up as normal, bathed and had breakfast and stepped out the door to start his day, and had put his boot right into the bloody mess on the porch. It'd taken him a few minutes to recognize the pulped lump as what was left of one of his chickens, and then he had quickly rushed over to check on the others. Only the one was missing, and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

Then it happened again, and again, and Thomas had started noticing other things. The scratches on the metal siding of the henhouse. The disappearance of some of his laundry from the line. The plating on the side of his cabin being tugged loose in places. Finally, he had had enough; he was going to find whatever damn critter was screwing around on his property and blow its head off.

The human began his tracking with a slow sweep of the area around his homestead, along the atmosphere fence that kept his property livable. Along the way, he checked for gaps or breaks in it; if whatever was responsible for killing his chickens had also been the one that had broken it a few cycles back, Thomas would have even more reason to blast it to Kingdom Come. Thankfully, the atmosphere of this colony world was similar enough to Earth's that breathing the air straight wouldn't cause immediate problems—there was just a little bit too much of this or not quite enough of that, according to the science boys at the settlement hub—but going too long without his fence working wouldn't be a fun time at all. And besides, it was the principle of the thing; this was his land, bought with his money and turned into a home with his sweat and blood, and he wasn't going to let anything mess with his property on his land. No man from the settlement hub, and no creature that thought it could score an easy meal.

His investigation didn't turn anything up, at least at first. As he rounded the corner of the fence to the side where his henhouse was, he began to see signs of something poking around the area. Here, a wiry shrub that had its branches broken. There, a few small claw marks on the fencing. And there, half-hidden by the blowing wind, what looked to be a trail leading off over the ridge.

Bingo.

Thomas hefted his ion rifle, checking that it was primed and ready. And then he began following the faded tracks to find whatever it was that had been playing games with him.

It couldn't be that large, he supposed, if it was just killing one chicken a day. And the claw marks looked like they'd come from something small, maybe one of the furry little scavengers he'd caught sight of occasionally prowling around the fence at night. Things that looked almost but not quite like an Earth fox—if a fox had a few too many legs and its jaws turned the wrong way—that always scattered with high-pitched yipping when he shone a light on them. Maybe one of them had gotten bold and found a way through the fencing, not knowing the wrath it was bringing down upon itself.

Further and further the human followed the tracks as he let his racing mind consider the possibilities. There were plenty of creatures out in the untamed wilderness; things that had been talked about by settlers at the hub, and things that were only lowly-whispered rumors muttered about around a campfire when the whisky flowed a bit too liberally. But Thomas was determined, and wouldn't let some imagined spook keep him from protecting what was his. He glanced back to the homestead—his home out here on the most final of frontiers—as it faded into the distance behind him and was lost over the rise of a rocky hill.

That was when he heard the rustling.

The safety on his ion rifle clicked off as he swung the muzzle toward the sound, which immediately stopped at his movement. Stopped, and then resumed on his other side. Thomas turned again, and again the sound moved to a new location. He finally trained his rifle on a shaking bush near a tall outcropping, and grinned. Stepped forward. Prepared to finally end the little bastard of a critter's game with a decisive victory for himself. A whining blast took out the top half of the bush and a good chunk of the outcropping.

“What the hell?" The words slipped from between Thomas' lips as he stared in shock. There, singed and smoldering just outside the blast radius, was a pair of his underwear. He looked around, listening for any other noise around him. Nothing. Carefully, the human moved over to pick up the half-destroyed garment. This was definitely one of the pairs that had disappeared from the laundry line.

Another rustle in the brush.

Thomas turned and fired, heart pounding in his ears loud enough to almost drown out the sound of the gunshot. After a long moment of catching his racing breath, the human slowly moved around the outcropping towards the source of the noise. Another ridge on the other side created a small, claustrophobic-looking valley. And there, a short distance into the rocky cleft and laying on the ground like it was placed there just for him, was another pair of his lost underwear.

He whirled around, training his rifle on the surrounding landscape as his widened eyes darted frantically around. High, rocky ridges. Low, thorny brush. A few gentler hills, and a few clouds of dust blown up by the wind. And nothing else. By all appearances Thomas was completely alone, but he knew better than that; something was out here with him, and that something was toying with him.

The human grunted. Looked from the trail back towards his homestead to the pair of underwear sitting in the middle of the small valley. It was a trap, and an obvious one at that. However, Thomas checked the charges on his rifle—four more; he'd have to hope that would be plenty—and then slowly edged along the wall of the outcropping towards the bait. His finger trembled on the trigger of his gun as he looked from one end of the valley to the other, and then up, and then took another few steps. Again and again he repeated the slow process, until he could kick at the discarded garment with the toe of his boot. When nothing sprung out to attack him, Thomas kneeled down to pick it up; and then he heard shuffling on the ridge above him, and felt something drop onto his head.

Once he pulled it off and saw that it was yet another pair of his lost underwear, Thomas took just a moment to be embarrassed at his wild flailing and the un-manly scream that had poured out of him in his surprise; at least no one had been around to see him getting spooked by having some clothes drop on his head. No one, at least, but whoever was sitting at the top of the ridge and letting out low, chuffing laughter at him. Thomas quickly picked his fallen rifle up to point it at the top of the rocky wall. “That's enough! Stop screwin' around and show yourself so I can blow your goddamn head off!"

No answer. There wasn't anyone standing atop the outcropping. No one who could've lead him out here with a trail of his stolen items. By all appearances, Thomas was completely alone.

Nope. Nope, no, nuh-uh, and hell naw. Thomas was done. Screw finding whatever it was that had been messing with him all this time; he was heading back to the homestead, turning it into a goddamn fortress, and setting up a 24-hour hour watch to make sure whatever the hell this thing was wouldn't be able to play games with him again. Thomas snatched up the underwear on the ground, adding it to the gathered, tangled heap clutched in his armpit, and turned to stalk out of the small valley.

Whatever had been toying with him apparently didn't like him trying to cut the game short, however. When he'd made it a small distance away, Thomas heard something heavy drop to the ground behind him—as though it had leapt off of one of the high ridges—and let out a low, rumbling growl. The human whirled around and raised his rifle to finally confront the critter that had been screwing with him all this time, and froze as a massive knot of fear dropped into his gut. The thing towering over him wasn't some furry little fox-thing. Not even close.

It looked like one of those dinosaurs—raptors, Thomas thought—from the holovids he'd been fascinated with as a child. It was coated in grey-brown scales that probably blended in perfectly with the dusty rocks and dry brush of the frontier. Thick, powerful hind legs flexed as it hunched over to bare its teeth at the human in a razor-sharp snarl. A line of feathery down along its bent forearms ended at its wrists, just below its four-clawed hands; and yes, those were actual hands, opposable 'thumb' and all. A bony crest sat atop its head, perched like a crown on its brow above the yellow, slitted, glaring eyes staring at Thomas with malevolent intelligence.

The creature huffed and let out another growl, one leg kicking at the ground like a bull preparing to charge. Its wicked claws gouged the ground beneath it, and the human tried not to think about the damage they'd be able to do to his flesh. The rifle shook in his grip as he lifted it and looked down along the sight. For a long moment, the two stood frozen, staring at each other.

The thing pounced. Thomas fired, and missed.

The human grunted in pain as the hard, rocky ground and the weight of the creature atop him forced his breath—and his breather—out of his mouth. He could hear the clatter of his ion rifle as it slid out of his reach. He struggled and squirmed, bucking up against the raptor-thing to try to knock it off so he could scramble away; whether to grab his rifle and try blasting the creature again or to book it back home like a scared child, his racing mind couldn't decide. Then he yelped in fear as the reptile hunched down, its carnivore breath washing over Thomas' face and making the human choke and gag as it regarded him. Pushed its snout against his face and neck and chest while sniffing and snuffling about.

It finally reared back with a pained screech, allowing Thomas to slide out from between its massive hind legs, when the human threw a punch right into its eye.

Thomas huffed and panted, panicking as he crawled away. Tried to rise up to his feet, only to have his trembling legs collapse out from underneath him. He didn't see where his breather had fallen, and he couldn't take the time to look for it; he'd just have to deal with the low oxygen while running like hell back to the homestead. He'd be able to bunker up there, get some defenses set up, and drive the beast off once and for all.

His sore gut and chest burned as he stumbled to his feet, almost fell again, and ran. His boots pounded the rocky ground below, the rhythm focusing his mind down to a single thought, primal and overwhelming: escape.

A roar from behind. Clawed feet pounding the ground in a rhythm that quickly outpaced his own. Snarling growls growing louder before the creature chasing him pounced once more.

Thomas screamed as his world became flashing teeth and slashing claws tearing at him. Not at his flesh, however, but his clothes. The alien raptor tore the man's shirt off, whipping its head back and forth to shake the ripped fabric around before tossing it away with distaste. The claws on its feet and hands tore Thomas' pants, scraping the tender flesh underneath and leaving long, bleeding, but shallow cuts as his lower body was bared. The human struggled, kicked and punched at the creature, but it seemed to work with single-minded focus to get the man naked.

His struggling began to weaken as his breathing grew harsher. Panting and gasping in the thin air of the frontier. Thomas could only lay on the ground, trying to cover his shame as the reptile bit into the waistband of the underwear he was wearing and tore that off, too. And then he groaned as, once more, the raptor-thing's broad snout pushed forward to explore his body. Smooth, pebbly scales brushing over his skin as the creature nuzzled into his chest, and then pressed downward to bat Thomas' hands away and spread his thighs open. The human could only let out a choking gasp as he felt the creature sniff his crotch; humid air puffing over his privates as the alien raptor rubbed its nose over his balls and then the length of his manhood. Down between his legs to his ass.

Finally, the alien reptile rose up to stand tall as it stepped over Thomas, threw its head back, and roared in triumph. And Thomas could finally see why the creature had seemed so interested in leading him out here, ambushing him, and getting him naked; could see the long, tapered, slimy length pushing out from the slit between the raptor-thing's legs to pulse and throb and fill the air with its pungent, bestial stench. The thing was male, and it was aroused.

“No…" The word came out as a breathy whine as Thomas trembled under the creature. He gasped and squirmed as it pinned him with its gaze once more; its gaze, and its body. The man shuddered as he felt the hot, wet length of the creature's penis grind on his thigh and splatter slick lubricating fluids onto his bare skin. “No…!" He needed to run. Needed to get away. He squirmed under the weight of the alien raptor's body, rolling onto his stomach and trying to crawl away from the male on his hands and knees.

That was a mistake.

“No! NO!" Thomas felt clawed hands grasp his waist, sharp pinpoints pricking at his bare flesh as the creature pulled his rump up. It nuzzled against the curve of Thomas' firm ass, and sniffed—pushed its snout into—the man's hairy cleft. The alien raptor seemed to like what it found, taking deep inhalations of the human's scent as its snout rubbed against Thomas' pucker. The man could only let out another shameful whimper; he'd never even thought about having anything back there, and now the stimulation—the air puffing over his crotch and balls and hole, soon joined by a slimy, wriggling tongue lapping at his tender orbs—was making heat burn in is cheeks and down into his gut. Still, he tried desperately to fight back, even as his lungs burned with need for oxygen. His weakened limbs could only flail, however; flail and convulse as the creature's tongue delved into his back passage.

“Nnngh!"

Big. It felt big inside him, writhing against his inner walls and touching places Thomas didn't even know he had. Making the heat in his gut churn and send burning sparks into his manhood. The human's mind began to swim as the sensations scattered his thoughts. He needed to—good—needed to get—fuck, so good—get away. But the critter wasn't hurting him. Maybe if he let it have what it wanted—let it smell and taste his clenching asshole and pulsing manhood, and push its tongue deep inside him to lap and lick and tease that spot inside him that made fireworks shoot off in his head—he could get out of this. He could get home, regroup, and blast a hole through the raptor-thing's head some other time.

A long, deep groan forced itself out from between Thomas' slackened lips as the creature drew its tongue out of his depths. The slickened flesh of his winking pucker tingled; felt hot and sensitive, making Thomas whimper and his cock jump below him from the slightest brush of the wind over it. The human could hear the alien reptile shifting behind him, and feel himself being pulled up by the waist once more. In his hazed state, the sharp nip the creature gave his shoulder felt almost affectionate. And then everything came crashing back to Thomas at once as he felt something else that was hot, slick, and thick press against his opened hole. The raptor-thing's penis.

“No—OOOOAAAAHGH!" Thomas roared in pain as the creature pushed its cock into him, almost drowning out the roar of pleasure from the alien raptor as Thomas' guts engulfed the first few inches of its malehood. It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. The massive erection stabbing into his bowels stretched him wide open to make room for itself, and every clench and push of the man's abused innards to expel the thing inside him was met with chuffs and croons of delight from the creature. It began to rock its hips and hump into the human beneath it in a steady, slamming rhythm, forcing itself deeper and deeper inside of its partner. It was slow going with the human bucking and fighting beneath it, but the creature seemed determined to hilt its entire length into Thomas with complete disregard for the man's comfort or pleasure.

Again and again, Thomas felt the alien erection sliding in and out of him, sinking further into his bowels with every thrust. Felt the slick flesh throbbing against his inner walls, and the tapered tip prodding that newly-discovered spot deep within him. Felt the roiling heat in his gut and crotch keep his own manhood hard even as his mind swam through an ocean of pain. His insides tingled, the sensations that he'd felt on his rim spreading into his back passage and making the fucking almost feel good. And that, of course, made his chest heave as shame-filled tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

Mercifully, Thomas wasn't able to feel the moment when the creature orgasmed, slamming deep into him and letting out another roar of triumph as it flooded the human's guts with potent, virile seed. Nor did he feel his own cock spasm as it shot its own much smaller load into the dust below him, the human's cum forced out of his balls by the rough pounding the alien reptile gave his ass. The pain and pleasure and lack of oxygen eventually grew too great for the man as he shuddered and squirmed under his assailant, and Thomas ended up blacking out.

---

That was it for him, or at least Thomas would have thought it was. He was at the creature's mercy, lying prone under its teeth and claws and malevolence. Surely once it was done pleasuring itself with him, it would take him as its next meal, right?

Apparently not. Once Thomas' swimming mind settled and cleared, he found himself collapsed on the front porch of his homestead, naked and splattered all over with rank, stinking sexual fluids. His ion rifle lay beside him, set out like a gift next to yet another bloody lump of torn-up chicken.

Thomas looked at the mess on himself and his porch, and laughed. Weak, hoarse laughter bubbled in his chest and spilled out of his mouth as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and crawled into the homestead. It continued as he bathed himself, wiping away the semen and blood—from the cuts and slashes on his body, not from his stinging hole, thankfully—coating his ass and crotch and thighs with a wet, soapy cloth. It finally quietened into choking, gasping whimpers as he curled up on his cot and hid both his naked body and his shame under the thin sheets.

As the day-cycle ended and a new one began, the man tried to forget about what had happened. He knew that no one would be able to help him, even if he went to the main offices in the settlement hub and told them—what? That he'd been raped by some kind of space dinosaur? Even if anyone believed him, he'd never be able to look his fellow settlers in the eye ever again.

And so, Thomas tried to ignore it even as the creature began to haunt his homestead more openly. Occasionally as he worked, the man would see flashes of grey-brown scales out of the corner of his eye, or hear a low rumble from behind him; of course, whenever he whirled around, eyes wide and breath coming in panicked panting, he'd find himself completely alone. In addition, the bloody messes left on his porch every morning—presents, or some kind of offering?—grew larger. The feathers and pale meat of his chickens replaced by some half-eaten creature that looked almost like a deer; if a deer had an extra eye perched between its antlers and sharp, elongated fangs. Thomas wasn't grateful for the 'gifts', but the meat was good and filling at least, and his chickens were finally being left alone.

However, as time passed, Thomas became incapable of ignoring that something was wrong; not outside on his homestead, but within his body. He began to feel faint twinges in his gut, at first only when he turned a certain way, but soon enough with every movement. Eventually, the twinges turned into a roiling heaviness in his abdomen. He started to feel bloated and heavy, and started needing to keep a bucket by his bedside to vomit into in the mornings.

The pulsing and throbbing in his stomach would occasionally feel good; pleasurable even. He'd feel the shifting in his guts, and a wave of heat would roll over him to leave him a flushed, sweaty mess. The heaviness within him would lance out sharp sparks into his crotch, making his manhood and balls tingle as he grew desperately horny. Before he would even realize it, he'd have stripped out of his clothing and started stroking his erection with wild, needy abandon. But every so often, the twinge would have a different effect; he'd feel it arc from his crotch to the spot between his asscheeks that he'd tried not to think about as the day-cycles passed. He'd pant and sweat and moan until the itch in the winking flesh of his pucker grew unbearable, and then he'd reach back to scratch it. His finger would follow the itchiness inside, into his back passage, and rub and stroke over his clenching inner walls. One finger would cease being enough, and he'd have to add another, and then another. Finally, Thomas would finger-fuck himself to a mind-bending, earth-shattering orgasm, and collapse into a shaking, shuddering mess.

And then there were the dreams. Thomas would toss and turn at night, the heat and pressure in his gut making his slumber restless and plaguing him with insane, erotic fantasies. Grey-brown scales pressing and rubbing against his bare skin. Clawed hands grasping his waist in a feral, bestial grip, or tugging at his thighs to spread them wide open. A slick, wriggling tongue on his throat and pushing into his mouth and delving into his itching, throbbing, pulsing hole. Pleasured grunts and hisses and chirring in his ear as he was filled with the alien raptor's cock again and again, the length hilting within him to fill his straining guts with hot, thick cum.

On the mornings after he had those dreams the human would wake up, body slick with sweat and crotch soaked with the remnants of his nighttime orgasms, to yet another 'present' the creature had taken to leaving him: his underwear, stolen off the line and soaked through with pungent-smelling alien seed and left discarded on the floor of his cabin. The damn thing had found some way to sneak inside; not only that, but it was pleasuring itself right there while he slept.

Thomas tried to be—was—infuriated at the violation of his home, even as the stink of the beast's musk stained his lungs with every labored breath while he cleaned up after it. He tried to work up the will to grab his gun every time he thought he caught sight of the raptor-thing skulking about. He tried to stop himself from getting horny with every shift in his guts as his belly expanded and grew taut and round. But he was very quickly losing the battle against himself.

Thomas felt like he was going insane.

---

And so that was how Thomas found himself clutching his belly one evening, groaning and panting as he balanced himself on his chair and tried to finish his dinner. It had been about a month—the human had honestly lost track of the time, so he couldn't be sure exactly how long he'd spent like this—and his condition had only grown worse. It felt like a struggle to lift the roasted meat of yet another 'present' to his mouth, and the flavor of it just made his guts churn and drew another whimper from between his slack lips.

He couldn't go for help. The settlement hub was at least a two-day-cycle walk when he was fit for it, and even if he could make the journey he couldn't let anyone else see him like this. And, of course, there was the creature. Prowling around. Making its rumbling and chuffing noises whenever Thomas let his guard down. Toying with him like a cat with a cornered mouse. The human didn't want to think about what would happen if he got ambushed by the alien reptile a second time.

Its pebbly scales against his skin. Its claws and teeth roughly tearing his underwear off to expose his crotch. Its humid breath and tongue washing over every inch of him before it bent him over and-

Thomas shook his head violently, pushing those thoughts away with a desperate groan even as he clutched at his achingly-aroused crotch. He wiped his eyes with his forearm and stood; he'd lost his appetite. He was just going to go over and collapse onto his bed—he was already in just his underwear, the air feeling too stuffy and stifling around his sweaty, trembling body for clothing—and try to sleep. It was all he felt like doing nowadays; he was completely exhausted, physically and mentally. He couldn't continue like this any longer.

The human took one shaky step, and then another. And then, something shifted within him, and he collapsed to his knees with a primal, animalistic scream. It hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt. Pain grasped and tugged at his spine and settled into his belly like he'd been kicked. His guts—no, something inside of them—squirmed and writhed and sent shocks of agony through his lower body.

And still, his goddamn cock throbbed and dribbled and tented his underwear; still, his hole pulsed and tingled and itched. It felt like he was being fucked again, like he could feel every inch of his back passage from its entrance to the knot of heaviness that had grown within him.

Thomas froze as his agonized vocalizations were answered with a deep, crooning purr. He looked over and, as his gaze swam and muzzed and cleared, saw the door swing open. Saw the alien raptor, the damned critter that had started this entire mess, turning the doorknob to let itself in like an expected guest. “Get out…" It was a low croak, huffed out between panting breaths, but it was all that the human could muster.

The creature took a step toward the human. Then another, and then another, bobbing its upper body and chuffing at Thomas. Wracked with pain as he was, the man couldn't stop the creature as it approached. Couldn't stop its tongue darting out to lap over his sweaty neck and cheek in an almost-tender caress. Couldn't stop it pushing its snout down to the soaked tent of his underwear, nuzzling and sniffing at his erection and balls and down into his taint. The raptor-thing opened its wide, razor-filled maw, bit at the waistband of his briefs, and tore the garment off like it had before; like it had done in every one of Thomas' dreams—nightmares—and shamefully-erotic fantasies.

“Stoppit… I'll… fucking kill you…" Thomas gritted his teeth and bit back another whimper as his guts throbbed again, sending him falling forward to collapse over the alien reptile's head and neck. “Kill you, you… damn… critter…" His hands scrabbled for purchase against the smooth, grey-brown scales, and then clutched at what they could as the human took in a hissing breath. The raptor-thing was licking his cock.

Up and down that hot, dexterous tongue wriggled and writhed along Thomas' length, from the pre-spurting tip down to the sweat-soaked tuft of hair at the base. Then it moved down to heft his balls and lap over the pouch holding the human's tender orbs. Its nose pressed into Thomas' pubes, and the man could feel the air brushing through the hair he had down there as the creature took deep sniff after deep sniff of his scent. The rumbling and purring of the creature beneath him felt almost soothing to the weary human, and when it opened its maw wide to huff out a humid breath over his crotch, Thomas humped forward with a cry of reluctant pleasure.

As the alien raptor worked over his cock, Thomas felt the knot in his gut starting to ease. Felt another shift within him as his tingling, itching inner walls relaxed. Felt something begin to slide down his back passage, setting the sensitive flesh inside of him on fire and sending sparks straight to his crotch. The human bore down instinctively, pushing the thing inside of him out, and felt it stretch his pucker open wide before falling to the floor between his feet with a quiet 'thunk'.

Fearing what he was going to see, the human craned himself around to look down between his legs; his cheeks, hot and flushed with shame and embarrassment, grew cold and pallid at the sight. That was an egg. A large, oblong, off-white egg, still coated with thick slime and slick lubricating fluid that stretched to wet points of contact he could feel on his hole and in his cleft. “What the hell- nnngh!" Thomas didn't have any time to wonder at how he'd just laid a goddamn egg as another shift inside him made his toes curl and his breath hitch. There was another one coming; one of many more to follow.

The only solace that Thomas could take as egg after egg slid down his stretched, straining back passage to push out of his pucker was that, with every one laid, the heaviness in his gut that he'd carried through his month of fear and anxiety grew lighter and lighter. Of course, this only put the human's focus more and more on the second knot—the tightly-coiled spring—winding in his crotch. The throbbing and pulsing of that spot within him being prodded and pressed by the eggs passing through him. The twitching of his over-stimulated cock as every touch of the alien raptor's tongue and every caress of its breath made it jump and spurt. The human moaned, groaned, crooned as his weary mind sunk into a haze of pleasure.

And when the final egg of the clutch pushed out of his sore, stretched hole, the winding spring finally snapped. Thomas humped and cried out as his cock erupted, shooting rope after rope of cum into the reptile's open, waiting maw. It felt good, amazing, rapturous; like he'd been pent up for the entire month, and was finally releasing every ounce of his built-up lust all at once. His vision swimming and his head spinning, Thomas collapsed onto the floor of the cabin with a spent groan. He couldn't move. He couldn't think. All he could do was try to catch his breath, and wait for whatever end the alien raptor had in mind for the sick game it had been playing with him.

Which seemed, to the human's surprise, to be to curl around his weary, sweaty body with a chuffing purr. Thomas could feel its snout pushing against his ass, snuffling at the sore flesh, and feel its tongue dart out to lick at his moist, stretched pucker. “You… you… oooh…" Thomas' eyes slipped closed as the raptor-thing began licking at his crotch with tender affection. He heard its crooning and rumbling and huffing, the sounds sending vibrations through their bodies as the creature pressed against the man. Thomas shifted and struggled, and the reptile grunted as it moved to keep the human in place. “What the fuck do you want from me…?"

The raptor-thing lifted and tilted its head. Its yellow, slitted gaze regarded Thomas as it opened its mouth to chitter at the human. Then it looked around, seeming to search for something, and let out a quiet screech when it apparently found what it was looking for: the pile of eggs that had dropped out of Thomas, the fluids coating them slowly drying and their leathery shells hardening.

Thomas flushed as he looked over the pile, watching as the alien raptor curled its tail around to carefully drag the eggs closer to them both. He didn't know what to feel looking over at them, watching as the creature lapped at each one to clean the shells off. Those had been inside him, growing ever since his first encounter with the creature, carried and nurtured by his body. At the same time that the thought sent a nauseous churn through his emptied gut, the tingling itch of his winking hole and clenching inner walls made his softening cock grow plump and firm once more. The man tried to focus on his breathing, and finally noticed the myriad of ripe, pungent scents filling the air of his cabin. The smell of his cum and sweat. The strange, sharp odor of the lubricating fluid smeared on his ass and still lingering on the eggs.

The now-familiar musk of the alien reptile's arousal.

Trembling involuntarily, Thomas looked downward. The creature's cock was out of its slit once more, pulsing as it lay heavily across his thigh and dribbled gooey precum onto his hip. It was just as thick and massive and intimidating as the human remembered, the tapered length knotted and ridged and utterly inhuman. He heard a low, quiet growl in his ear, and felt the reptile's tongue flick against his cheek as it shifted against him to lift one hindleg up and present its crotch to the human. Thomas didn't crawl down to explore the raptor-thing's erection; didn't grasp it, stroke it, run his own tongue along its length and shove the wiggling muscle down into the moist lips of the creature's slit or the winking, clenching pucker he could see at the base of its tail to explore the alien raptor's sex. But the thought crossed his mind, sending another roil through his stomach and another tingling shock through his ass and into his manhood.

He remained frozen, indecisive, and could only watch as the raptor-thing reached down with one clawed hand to grasp its erection. It began to hump into its own grip, hissing and purring and chuffing with apparent delight. It was masturbating; had it been watching Thomas as the human struggled with his involuntary arousal while carrying its eggs? Is that how it had learned to pleasure itself with his underwear so it could leave semen-soaked 'presents' for him every morning? Thomas didn't know, and as he watched the reptile's humping grow quicker along with its panting, the thought was pushed out of his mind. He was transfixed by the rocking of the alien raptor's hips, and stared as it finally roared and spurted its thick cum onto his body. Onto the eggs nearby; their eggs.

The raptor-thing seemed pleased with itself as it looked over its handiwork; the splatters of its seed pooling on Thomas' stomach and dribbling down the shells of the piled-up eggs. With one last croon it lay its head down, clutched at Thomas' hip with a clawed, pre-and-cum-stained hand, and let out a victorious, satisfied huff.

Somehow, Thomas knew that it had won the 'game' it had been playing with him all this time.

The human let out a deep, bone-weary sigh, and let his body relax against the rumbling creature. In the morning, he could figure out what to do; with the eggs, with the alien reptile, with everything that had happened to him. He glanced to the wall where his ion rifle hung, and for some reason fantasies of blowing the critter's head off sunk beneath thoughts of 'blowing' something else. He shook the thoughts away desperately, but they clung to his mind like burrs. Fuck it, he could decide what the next step in the cat-and-mouse game between he and the raptor-thing would be later. For now, Thomas had had enough.