Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Zorlond
Title: Survival of the Excellent
Part: Chapter 07
Summary: A new planet, a new start...  and a species that seems to be
built for sex.
Keywords: Mf, ff, HM+F+, futa, futanari, non-sex-viol, oral, group,
orgy, inc, incest, teen, ped, preg, breast size, penis size, SciFi



   Year 17, Month 1, Day 12

   Ian sighed contentedly, sitting on the bench at the top of the stone
ridge overlooking the village.  It was early yet, air crisp with departing
winter, shadows still long, life just stirring down below to get to the
daily task of communal survival.  And Ian just soaked it in.  With Mary's
elder daughter sitting topless in his lap.

   The girl, a brunette of almost four years, slurped loudly at Ian's cock,
the crown of which was conveniently right there in front of her plush lips
as she sat on his thighs.  She stuck her tongue out to it's full length, a
bit over two subrods long, the tip probing at every crevice in between
trying to wrap around his cock.  She could only get it halfway around, but
clearly didn't mind.  Her tongue dripped with saliva, and his cock was
liberally covered with it.  She was eager to turn this slathered drool into
messy strings hanging from smiling lips to cock, dripping all over her
bared boobies and both hands as she occasionally switched to a slow
tit-fuck before going back to licking away.  Her breasts weren't quite
large enough to fully wrap around Ian's cock, but between those and her
talented tongue, Ian had no complaints.

   Ian had his hand up under her skirt, most of it pushing in and out of
her hot little snatch as she continued to make a slobbery mess of his dick.
When Ian began to grunt, his cock jerking within the girl's hands, she
quickly slapped her long tongue over the end of his cock, just in time for
it to catch the first blast of white spunk.  Splattering into her tongue,
the fluid jetted down the path of least resustance, along the tongue's
underside to hit her chin and neck, quickly flowing down onto her already
wet boobies.  Sliding her tongue away, the second shot of gunk flew right
into her mouth, where it joined the saliva in drooling down her tongue.

   In the midst of her increasingly messy face and chest, the girl began
cuming herself, jets of girl-cum smearing across Ian's hand and all over
his knees, as Ian tried to help her along by getting a bit more of his hand
up into her pussy.  The girl moaned loudly as still more of Ian's sperm
jetted out, forming their own sticky webs between cockhead and her face,
joining and mixing with the copious drool already there.  At one point, she
widened her mouth and got his whole cockhead past her lips, sucking hard
enough to indent her cheeks.  Her mouth quickly filled, concave cheeks
turning convex, and when it reached capacity she tugged her mouth off of
him and let the entire mouthfull of cum flow out like a river down her
front, as Ian added still more shots of cum onto her form.

   This was the scene when Ian heard a voice off to one side.  "Ah, there
you are, Ian." He looked over to see Pat cresting the stairs up the ridge.
"And I see Messy Lessie found you too."

   Ian smirked as the girl in his lap let out a giggle that turned into a
moan.  Leslie had grown particularly fond of oral over her few years, and
had proved to have a knack for turning sexual encounters into massive cum
and drool soaked spectacles, as she was doing now with Ian.  And then go
about her day with the splooge still drying on her face and boobies,
occasionally adding more from any guy or girl who was interested as her day
progressed.  Thus, people in the village were starting to call her 'Messy
Lessie'.

   Lessie giggled again as she and Ian came down from their respective
orgasms, smiling widely to show the spunk splattered across her teeth.  Ian
nudged her off of his lap, whereupon she casually picked up her discarded
shawl and loosely put it on, leaving her sodden chest bare, nipples tight
in the cool air.  Ian looked to Pat, asking, "Karen and Sandy coming?"

   Pat nodded to him as he stowed his softening dick away.  "They should be
along soon." She focused on Lessie.  "And you should be getting to your
chores, Lessie."

   "Alright, Elda Pat." Lessie gave her great grandmother a quick hug
before heading to the stairs down to the village, turning back to briefly
wave to both of them.  "Have a safe trip!"

   Pat waved to her before quickly glancing briefly at the wet smear
Lessie's boobies had left on her clothes.  "You ready for this?" she asked
Ian.  Her clothes should dry soon enough.  They'd seen more than a bit of
sloppy seconds from a quick hug before.

   Ian nodded, standing and shouldering a pack he'd set next to the bench,
along with a quiver and his spearthrower.  "Yep.  Food and water for a few
days, tent if we need it.  Hopefully we won't, it'd be pretty cramped with
four people."

   "We'll have to see.  Ah," Pat looked to the stairs once more as she
heard rising steps, just in time to see Sandy and Karen cresting the rise.
"Good timing.  All set?"

   "Yep," Sandy spoke first.  "I've got plenty of material for notes,
Karen's got the climbing gear, plus food and water." Unmentioned were a
full quiver and spearthrower for each, long since standard for any trip
more than a hundred rods beyond the village's edge.  "Hopefully we'll find
something usable.  I wouldn't want to waste our time..."

   Pat held up a hand to interrupt her.  "Even if we don't find anything,
simply knowing there's nothing of interest in that area will at least tell
us where not to look." As the last measure of preparation, Pat handed a
sheathed knife to Karen, the old mining pick hanging from her own hip. 
"Lets get to it, then."

   With that sorted out, the four began walking east, towards the
mountains. It was a long march, guided by the notes and map Beth had made
on her trip seeking new sources of food in this direction.  About halfway
along Beth's old route, Pat ordered a shift in course a bit northwards,
hoping to avoid dangerous territory.

   They made occasional stops to hunt a little, eat, and fuck as needed,
trying to focus on distance.  After the first day of walking, more stops
were made as Pat and Sandy took the time to examine the local ground,
looking for any clue to what may be buried within, as Ian and Karen stood
watch.  Page after page of threadleaf sheets were filled with meticulous
notes and mappings of the rocky area.  It was long and arduous, inevitably
giving rise to walking conversation.

   "So," Ian said, as he clambered on all fours up a rocky incline, not
steep enough for proper climbing but too steep to simply walk.  "How's
Christine been?"

   Pat, about four rods ahead of him, chipped at the incline a little to
try and speed the others' climb with easy handholds.  "Still the same,
after five years.  Sweet, kind, determined to contribute...  Still needs
help getting dressed every morning." She glanced over a shoulder down the
slope towards Ian, and far below, standing on flatter terrain, Karen and
Sandy watched their climb.

   Ian's face was carefully set, expressionless.  "So, no better?"

   Pat sighed, climbing the last few rods up the slope to a flat strip of
rock that wrapped around a sinuous cliff face.  "You really shouldn't dwell
on it so much."

   Ian eased himself up the slope behind her, setting his hands and feet in
the shallow holes Pat had chipped out.  "Why not?  I did make the
choice..."

   "And I'm the one who told you to do so," Pat declared, turning to look
down at him.  "We both made choices that day, and we had no way of knowing
how any of it would turn out.  It could have been me that ate the slab, and
I would not blame you for it.  Christine doesn't blame you..." Pat offered
her hand to Ian as he came close.  "And you shouldn't blame yourself."

   Ian looked at her hand for a brief moment before taking it and finished
the last few steps up the slope with Pat's assistance.  "Maybe so.  It's
just hard to..."

   Pat was turning to look down to Karen and Sandy waiting below, about to
call out for them to come up, when a small sound tugged at her ear. 
Something she had heard before, a very long time ago.  Low, gutteral,
hungry...

   Barely without thinking, Pat's hand grabbed at Ian's wrist, yanking hard
as she dove down the slope.  Ian's cry of surprise was buried in the sound
of loose stone being dislodged as both of them tumbled down.  On the
now-vacated ridge, a massive form rounded a bend in the winding cliff face
and rushed the spot they had just been standing in.  It watched as the pair
tumbled head over heels down the slope, curling into balls to try and stave
off the hard rocks in their path.  The massive form let out a agitated hiss
before rushing down the slope after them.

   "CREAR!" Sandy screamed as it came over the edge above her and into
sight.  Karen's first response was to grab for her darts and spearthrower,
notching, cocking, and releasing in one fast stroke.  Her aim was off, the
shot ricocheting off a bony eye ridge of the armored behemoth.  If it even
noticed the blow, it made no indication as small avalanches of rock
preceded it as it's six legs plowed down the slope.

   "Get back!" Pat shouted as she rolled to the bottom, the tumble leaving
her with barely enough breath to be heard over the crear's approach.  She
struggled to rise, barely even noticing Sandy and Karen scrambling to
follow her order, hand grasping the climbing pick, only to find her legs
unable to hold her, head still spinning from the tumble down the slope. 
Her head turning to watch the beast, slowed by it's more controlled
descent, came down the last few rods towards her, great, toothy maw opening
to take her in...

   A form slammed into the side of the crear's neck.  Ian, somehow having
gotten one of his darts free of it's quiver after so rough and long a fall.
With the full force of both hands and body, he rammed the dart into the
crear's neck.  Roaring in shocked pain, the crear shoved back at Ian,
knocking him from his feet.  As the crear turned to it's new target, clawed
forelegs rising quickly, Pat scrambled to her feet for a few rods distance.
Behind her, she heard roars turn to screams...

   A scream of rage tore through the air as Pat felt the wind of Karen
passing her.  Steel knife in hand, Karen threw herself up onto the side of
the crear, between the rear and mid leg, plunging the knife into the thick
hide, then using that few inches of penetration to pull herself up towards
the monster's back.  Roaring as it turned it's head, the crear tried to
look back at what had just struck it, and as Karen plunged the knife in
again to clamber further upwards, it started to bend around, teeth snapping
at tender leg.

   "READY!  AIM!  RELEASE!" Pat, having recovered her feet and breath,
forced her will through her voice and right into the mind of Sandy beside
her.  Without thought, Sandy matched Pat's own movements of loosing a dart
from their quivers, notching them squarely into their spearthrowers,
rearing back, and striking with the full force of their entire bodies.  A
pair of darts zipped through the air and struck their target.  Side-on, the
darts easily hit the crear and pierced it's hide.  One sank into the
foreleg's elbow, the other just between fore and mid leg of the body.  But
the penetration was limited.  From the wheezing the crear's breath now had,
it had hit lung, but the blow would take far too long to be fatal.

   The crear roared in pain, turning back to face them.  "Split!" Pat
yelled, and Sandy caught on just in time, as the crear rushed them.  The
two ran away from each other, ninety degrees away from the crear's path,
it's jaws snapping shut between them.  On it's back, Karen cried out as she
was rocked by the movement, grabbing onto her knife with both hands, her
only grip on the crear's back.  The crear looked back and forth between Pat
and Sandy, electing to turn after the latter.  Heaving through a sharp
turn, the crear began it's pursuit.

   "Karen!  Catch!" Pat yelled, taking up her climbing pick again and
heaving it in an overhand throw.  The pick flew through the air, steel head
glinting in the bright sun, a great heave of the crear's back sending
Karen's body swinging around on a one-handed grip of the knife's handle,
other arm stretching out, fingers wide open, as the pick drew near.  Her
hand closed, and the pick settled almost languidly into her grip.

   Karen brought the pick around hard, sinking full depth into the crear's
hide, yanking herself back up onto it before ripping her knife free and
sinking it in again further up.  Two-fisted, she tore a bloody trail up the
crear's back, eyes wide and teeth grinding as she sought her target. 
There, just a handspan behind it's skull.  But beyond, Sandy could be seen,
scrambling behind any rock large enough to buy her even a fraction of a
second, the crear plowing over and through in it's chase.  The dart wounds
slowed the beast, but Sandy was losing ground.  Karen reached the spot,
reversed her grip on the pick, and struck, getting the head under the armor
plate and wrenching it upwards before shoving the knife in.

   The crear thudded to the ground, skidding to a halt on sheer momentum,
plowing a furrow in it's wake.  It's dying groan lost in the grind of dirt
and stone underneath it.  Karen gave the knife a twist before wrenching it
free.  All were still for a moment, watching Karen slowly stand on top of
the dead crear, blood dripping from both hands.

   A moment later, Karen's head turned, and she rushed down the side of the
crear and over to the fallen form of Ian.  For a time, the only sound that
could be heard were her wracking sobs, echoing from the cold stones around
them.

   Year 17, Month 5, Day 28

   Air hissed in rhythmic pulses, over and over, as Pat watched.  Beth and
Mary knelt on the ground, pressing down on bladders made of hide and a few
sticks, forcing air down thin, buried tunnels, and up into a pile of
glowing coals.  The coals glowed bright white with each pulse, a throbbing
heart burning beneath the covered pot made of carefully excavated stone,
it's exterior already glowing from the intense forces without and within.
Beth and Mary were both topless and sweating with the effort and heat,
pumping in sync every second, Pat silently counting the time.

   Eventually, Pat called out, "Time!" Beth and Mary immediately released
the handles of their bladders, taking up wooden staves with half-circle
ends.  Quickly putting the ends of their staves against the neck of the
white-hot pot, the heads interlocked and gave them a good grip on the pot.
Working together, the pair lifted the pot from the coals and over to a
sheet of dried mud, as Pat used a pair of wooden tongs to quickly remove
the lid.  Carefully turning the pot to it's side, it's lip revealed a thin
stream of shimmering liquid, pouring into indentations left in the mud
sheet.

   Beth and Mary shifted the pot along the sheet as evenly as they could,
but the pot only let out enough to completely fill two of the mold's spots,
a third only half filled and a few oblong lumps formed from slight spills
between the indents.  The pot empty, the two set it back down on it's
cooling coals and unhooked the handle staves.  Then, all eyes turned to the
mold, where dimming metal settled into it's new form.

   Holding her hand out over the mold, Pat judged how the metal had cooled,
before reaching down and prying one finished shape up from the mold.  She
turned it over in her hand, judging it's color and shape, before handing it
over to Mary.  "That's good bronze." Mary smiled at the declaration,
turning the broad arrowhead over in her hands.  Pat continued as she
retrieved the second arrowhead from the mold.  "This'll be lighter and
harder than the copper, but with the limited tin we've found, we're not
going to be able to make much of it." After a quick look over, she handed
it to Beth for her to inspect.

   "What about the shape?" Beth asked.  "Will it be that much better for
hunting?"

   "For large land game, yes," Pat answered.  "Sharpened wood just makes a
hole the same size as the dart.  This will cut a wider slice, leaving room
for blood to flow, in addition to having more weight at the head and a
sharper edge for better penetration.  It's also less likely to just fall
out, hindering escape." Bending down once more, Pat picked up the partial
arrowhead and the few malformed clinkers.  "You can toss these in the next
batch of bronze you make.  We'll want to squeeze out as much useful bronze
as we can."

   Mary nodded as she took the scraps.  "Yes, I've already got a lot of
requests for tools coming in.  Mostly knives."

   "Fulfill as many as you can with bronze," Pat told her.  "The rest will
just have to settle for copper.  It'll still be quite effective, more so
than stone."

   "What about larger items?"

   "For anything bigger than a knife blade, you'll want two molds," Pat
placed both her hands flat out towards them.  Bringing her hands together,
she continued, "Each will be half of the complete item, and the molds would
be held tightly together while liquid metal is poured in between them." Pat
lowered her hands.  "But we aren't getting anywhere near enough copper for
anything big.  Stick to knife blades a subrod long at most.  At least for
now."

   Confident in the nascent smithy, Pat left the pair to discuss their work
alone.  Particularly how they were going to move their operation up to the
small mine that had started to form up on the mountain.  There were no
permanent buildings up there, but that was merely a matter of time.

   Walking from the slight nook in the ridge face, next to the tool shed,
where the smithing experiments were taking place, Pat headed to her house,
intending to get a little more leafwork done.  She needed to get down how
the bronze smithing had gone.  But, as she rounded the corner, she came
across a bit of a scene.

   Leaning against the wall, Karen's twin redheaded girls were locked in
passionate embrace.  Lips smacking together before easing back to reveal
twin tongues sliding and curling around each other while entering the
other's smiling mouth.  Unseasonably early, both were completely naked and
rubbing their bodies together, large heaving breasts skidding as nipples
pressed against each other.  Down below, each twin had raised her right leg
to allow her sister to get in closer, twin pussies grinding slowly against
each other, encouraging the flows of girlcum running in rivers down their
legs.

   One of the twins noticed their audience and retracted her tongue long
enough to say, "Hiya, Gramma Pat," although the words were a little garbled
with her sister's tongue probing her molars.  The other took notice and
spoke her own greeting, then both went right back to making out, not even
slowing their hip gyrations.  As Pat watched them, entertaining the notion
of getting her cock out and filling the pussies of the two horny girls with
spunk, a shout was heard...

   "Hanna!  Jenny!" The twins immediately stopped making out, their
expressions turning to fear.  Around the far corner came an angry Karen. 
"You're supposed to be running!  Get back to the track and finish your
laps. And then add five more!" The angry words were made all the more
intimidating thanks to the headdress Karen wore, the primary component of
which was the bare skull of a crear.

   The two adolescents split from their embrace, mumbling apologies before
jogging off in the direction of the exercise path, still naked and with the
dregs of their orgasmic fluid still dripping from between their legs.  Pat
watched them go, then looked to Karen.  "Trouble with class?"

   Karen snorted, "When you asked me to try and get these kids into
organized exercise together, you didn't say anything about having to run
herd on them all day just to get anything done.  They all take every chance
to slip away to fuck all day." Folding her arms under her massive, covered
breasts, she added, "They've got no self-control."

   Pat softly chuckled.  "You weren't much better at that age.  And
besides, their needs are just as pressing as ours."

   Karen shot her a look.  "I know that.  I insist on breaks at regular
intervals for just that purpose, let them have twenty minutes to fuck
whoever they like.  I'm not unreasonable."

   Pat smiled and stepped up next to her daughter, setting a hand on her
shoulder.  "Doing something at regimented direction is always going to be
less enjoyable than doing the same thing whenever and wherever you feel
like it." Stepping away from the house, Pat nudged Karen along in heading
to the track to supervise.  "Getting the kids used to doing this regularly
is going to be a nuisance, but it's important.  So we've got to keep at it.
Besides, we can help drive the point of self-control home from the
sidelines."

   Karen looked at Pat, eyebrow raised.  "How's that?"

   Pat smiled.  "They'll have to keep running while watching the rest of us
take a fuck-break right there."

   Year 32, Month 2, Day 17

   Pat sat quietly on the bench in front of her house, listening carefully.
Beside her, Christine sat, leaning gently on her shoulder, a cane held
lightly in her hands.  Before them, a young female excel by the name of
Heather, almost six years of age, spoke firmly and earnestly.  Nearly the
whole village had turned out for this, watching silently.  Well, except for
two little girls, who had decided to go off to one side so they could
scissor.  The odor of their sexual efforts lightly scented the meeting.

   "...  and while it would take more time to establish more permanent
space, the long term benefits are undeniable." As Heather wound down and
looked to Pat for an answer, Pat considered her response.

   "Permanent living space...  at the lake." Pat declared, the question
implied.

   Heather nodded, a bit of sunlight glinting off the copper necklace
dangling down into the peak of her massive cleavage.  "Yes, Elder.  We've
always said we'd like to get a more steady supply of fish.  Now's a good
time, what with the surplus crop we had last year and the new crop just
starting to come in."

   "And how many in your party?"

   "Eight, including me." Heather turned to indicate the seven adults and
near-adults behind her.  Looking over them, Pat noticed that even the
oldest was only about seven.  But there were two men among them.  Heather
had obviously put some thought into the long-term.

   "So many," Pat muttered.  The village still wasn't that big, only thirty
people lived...  no, wait, thirty one, Pat reminded herself as her gaze
passed over a mother openly breast-feeding a little baby, only a couple
days old now...  only thirty one lived in the village.  It actually felt a
little crowded to Pat, after so many years of a small family.  Still, it
was inevitable that splits would happen.  Considering the proposal, Pat
asked, "Are you sure you can last at the lake until you get some proper
houses built?"

   Heather sighed, looking slightly annoyed.  "There is the fishing shed
there, already..."

   "...  Which is just a shed," Pat interrupted.  "I'm not even sure eight
people could lie down in it, much less live for months."

   "The mine at Ian's Peak isn't much better," Heather countered.  "It's
literally just a cave with a door in the entrance."

   "But nobody lives at Ian's Peak, not year-round." Pat focused on the
topic at hand, and not...  "It only has people for a month or two at a
time, then they return.  And never winter there."

   "We know this isn't going to be easy, or comfortable," Heather told her,
her brow taking a firm line.  "We might even be forced to give up and come
back here.  But I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't think we had a good
chance of succeeding." Pausing to take a breath, Heather straightened up
and looked Pat right in the eye.  "Please, Elder.  We only ask to be given
the chance."

   Pat considered.  For all the angles and possibilities where such a
venture would go wrong, she could think of others that would go right, and
all of them would be the better for it.  But she would not let it look too
easy, so she held her response for a time, the village watching silently.

   Eventually, she decided it was long enough, and stated, "Alright.  You
may go." A few short lived cheers broke out from the small group, and
Heather's face broke out in a wide grin.  Then Pat spoke up again.  "There
are some conditions, however." Pat, gently nudging Christine upright before
standing up, spoke clearly to all who could hear.  "You will send someone
back at least once a month to report on how you are doing.  When you are
able, you will include things for trade with that report.  You can expect
me to drop by at least a couple times a year to check up on you." She
walked forward as she spoke in slow, measured steps.  "And, importantly, if
you ever need aid, do Not hesitate to send a runner for us."

   Heather nodded to each term.  "Understood, Elder.  We can set off before
noon..."

   "Oh, no," Pat stopped her, now standing close.  "You can go tomorrow
morning.  Tonight, we celebrate!  After all, it'll be quite some time
before we can all fuck together again." Smiling, Pat leaned over to embrace
and give a warm kiss right on Heather's lips, which was eagerly returned.
Whoops filled the air as the pair's tongues slid into the other's mouth. 
As Heather's hands sought out Pat's hardening cock, others began pairing
and tripling off all around them, clothes being tugged aside to bare tits
and asses, cocks and pussies.

   As Pat crouched to get her hard cock up into Heather's already wet
pussy, Heather's lips latching onto Pat's rising, huge breast, Christine
had laid out flat on the bench, Mary's face down between her legs to lap at
her inner folds, while Beth crouched next to the bench to deeply kiss her
while massaging her wonderfully plush tits.  Moaning rose as rod-long dicks
started shoving into most welcoming pussies.  The redhead twins, Hanna and
Jenny, bent full over, legs straight and hands to the ground, enormous
tits, the biggest in the village, dragging nipples across the dirt, both
getting dicked hard.  When the men finished groaning their loads into the
hot pussies, the men simply pulled out their arm-sized cocks, switched
places and immediately got to fucking the other twin.

   An adolescent girl, large breasts resting on top of a belly swollen with
child due within a month, leaned back against her mother, head raised to
twine her tongue with the older woman's, while her little sister kissed and
licked at the smooth lump of impending baby, little hands down to diddle
her sister's pregnant pussy.  Nearby, two women were aggressively
sixty-nining each other, hot juices squirting out to wet their faces and
loose hair, tongues three subrods long lapping at every wet spray of sex
nectar.

   The fucking went on until nightfall, copious loads of cum splattering
everyone.  At one point, Lessie managed to get two men to herself,
crouching naked between them, a cock in either hand, turning back and forth
to shove as much cock into her mouth, slurping and drooling massively,
before swinging slobbering strings back around to suck on the other, before
eventually getting both men to orgasm at the same time, great blobs of
semen raining down for several minutes, covering her face, tits, and hair
in runny ropes, clearly loving every second of it.  Then the men lifted her
bodily in their strong arms, and, pressing against her body from front and
back, got both of their cocks in and double-teamed her pussy, intent on
making sure there were more girls like Messy Lessie around.

   As things wound down, and Pat cried out as her dick spat yet another hot
spunky load into a little girl of three years, as one of the departing men
eased his thick cock of out Pat's quivering pussy in order to shove it's
full length down the throat of a waiting Heather, throat visibly stretching
as the cockhead entered her ribcage to press against stomach...  Pat
wrapped up with the little girl and said her goodbyes.  She headed into her
home, where she found Christine laid out on the table, making out with
Karen as they ground pussies together.  After Pat joined them, things
eventually led to the bedroom, and after more fucking there, to sleep.

   Come morning, and a few morning cums, eight brave souls walked off
downriver, packs loaded with supplies, and thoughts full of hopes and
dreams.

   Pat's thoughts were more of concern, and plans for distant future...

   *****

   This is a work of fiction, if that wasn't clear enough.  Nothing I write
about has ever or will ever occour in reality.  Any resemblence characters
may have to real people is entirely coincidental and unintentional.  And I
can not and will not condone real sexual activity involving minors.

   I do however, condone positive feedback, and encourage it.  :)

   If you feel like sending me some feedback, you can reach me at zorlond
AT yahoo DOT com.