Mark Alders Schism Universe 3 Atlantica Dream

Kirk is a rich young man, partying on his twenty-first and
filled with Atlantica Dream, the drug that makes the user
experience such heightened sensuality that even to look at
someone else is to make love to them.

But when he wakes, he’s not in his affluent neighborhood

at all. He’s at the Mattock Markets, Ardross Major’s largest
slave trade arena, and he is to be sold to the highest
bidder. Being handsome, well hung and unblemished
because of his upbringing, he’s expected to fetch a high
price. Kirk soon discovers that power and money don’t
mean a thing on the outer worlds of the system, and his new
owner, an alien called the Schism who can bend the laws of
the universe, uses him as bait in a trap for shifters—a notion
he finds worse than being sold as an object.

Kirk is soon engaged in a race against time as he escapes

from the Schism and sets out to warn a fledgling colony of
platypus shifters who have been detected by the space
amplifier. But what he discovers about why he ended up in
the Mattock Markets will change the course of his life
forever. Not only must he survive to help so many others, he
must become a man, too.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright
infringement, including infringement without monetary
gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to
5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and
do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of
copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights
is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or
locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Atlantica Dream

ISBN: 978-1-77111-137-9

Cover art by Angela Waters

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the
reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part
in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means,
now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the
written permission of the publisher.

Published by eXtasy Books

Look for us online at:

www.eXtasybooks.com

Atlantica Dream

A Schism Universe Story

Mark Alders

Chapter One

irk Skelling had orgasmed multiple times.

The drug Atlantica Dream was coursing through his

veins, charging his sexual energy beyond anything any

human could ever dream of while he celebrated his twenty-
first birthday at his father’s sprawling ranch, a ranch that
herded Boonta bovine. Exporting fresh milk was a lucrative
trade, especially to the outer rim planets where such a
product was in demand. The reason Kirk was able to afford
a couple of grams of Atlantica Dream in the first place was
because of his father’s money.

Kirk had never wanted for anything.
The night was young, but already he’d given seven blokes

his drug soaked attention. They were the first to arrive at his
birthday bash, multiple orgasming with him when he came
to look upon them proper in greeting. One of the guys was
in so much ecstasy, writhing on the floor, touching himself
uncontrollably, panting and begging for more, he had to be
escorted away by two house slaves and given a sedative.

Kirk found his guest’s disablement by orgasm quite

amusing, but soon turned his attention to another arrival. A
stunning young man named Wiks who had turned his eye
many times. Yes, Wiks was a friend—ex-lover to be
exact…sort of. Whoever said friends couldn’t enjoy each
other on a sexual level was a crazy old prude, even if they
were no longer bed partners. Kirk prided himself on the fact
he liked guys. After all, no girl in his experience could suck

Mark Alders

his cock right. Not like how he did it, anyway.

He looked at Wiks with a deep, passionate stare. The

Atlantica Dream quickened his heart, making his pulse beat
loud in his ears while he concentrated his full attention on
the man who would be his next interest tonight. With that
glance, and after a wonderful moment of anticipation, Wiks
shuddered, his eyes rolling in their sockets for a split second.
Without a touch, a word, or a promise of what was to come,
both of them came simultaneously.

Kirk knew his underwear would be soaked with his cum,

because his balls ached with so much use. Even his skin
would be sweat soaked, his odor strong, but to tell the truth,
he didn’t care. He didn’t even care if he had a wet patch for
all to see.

He was having the time of his life.
Wiks came over to Kirk, a look of surprise and intrigue on

his face. He looked adorable, like a puppy who had been
rewarded for being curious. “You…you made me blow my
load in my pants, birthday boy.”

Kirk smiled. Wiks, of the eight people he had made

orgasm already tonight, was the one who he would actually
take to bed…again. There was one problem. Wiks had a
boyfriend. Not just any old man either, certainly not one to
push around or to dismiss as something insignificant, but a
rough, tough construction worker who lived in one of the
ring cities orbiting Ardross Major. Ganymede Tuesday was the
name of it from what Kirk recalled. If Wiks’ boyfriend found
out Kirk had made his man jizz in his pants, contact or not,
he would weld Kirk’s balls to his chest, no questions asked.
“I got some Dream the other day. Given seven other lads a
good time just by looking at them, as well. You’re the
eighth.”

“Fuck, Kirk, now I’m gonna have to go change. I only

washed this gear, now I’m gonna smell like a Boonta whore

Atlantica Dream

on pay day who’s been through half the construction fleet,
even after my cum dries.”

“Ouch. You want to get that cleaned up before then. Cum

is a bitch to get out of pubes once it dries up solid, you
know.”

“Lucky for me I shave.”
“You do?” Kirk almost gasped out the words. To hear

such an intimate detail about Wiks sure was alluring. The
last time he had seen him naked was the year before, when
they were lovers. They’d played truth or dare. Wiks dared
Kirk to blow him, so Kirk, being a man who never backed
away from any challenge, took down his friend’s pants with
enthusiasm and sucked his smooth, magnificent foreskinned
length until he blew his hot, sticky load down Kirk’s throat.
Wiks had pubic hair back then. Those were the days. Pity
Wiks had to go and get himself attached to some hunk of a
man, all muscles and sexy.

“Yeah, Dodger loves to lick my smooth skin all over. He

doesn’t want me to be hairy, anywhere.”

“Even your crack?”
“Everywhere.”
“Fuck me, that’s hot, Wiks.”
Wiks let out a laugh. “You should have made your move

when you had the chance at graduation last year and told
me you loved me. I was ready for you to say it—wanted you
to say it. Fuck, I’d even wanked myself red-fucking-raw the
night before thinking about how you were going to tell me.
Why you didn’t, I don’t know, but Dodger now gets to
worship my body any damn time he damn well feels like it,
and I love that.”

To tell the truth, Kirk did want Wiks. Unfortunately, Kirk

got in the way of Kirk. He’d become distracted by one of his
latest ideas, a scheme which would ensure he no longer
lived in his father’s shadow, but could become his own man

Mark Alders

in his own right. After graduation he was going to buy into a
manufacturing company that had claimed they were able to
produce Genopills which could guarantee any woman would
have a boy, one-hundred percent of the time. Everyone
knew a girl who had a baby boy was given money for that
boy to be used—and abused—in the slave trade. Boys were
money in the bank, and the peasant families of Boonta were
left with no choice but to sell their sons to survive, if they
could produce them reliably.

Therefore, any company who could promise such a

breakthrough pill, and deliver, would make their
shareholders rich beyond imagining. Kirk couldn’t pass up
the chance, and straight after the graduation ceremony he’d
rushed off to meet the directors of the company, standing up
Wiks in the process.

Trouble was, the scheme was a con.
Thankfully, Kirk saw the scheme for what it was before it

was too late. Actually, scratch that. Kirk’s father had seen the
scam before Kirk committed. He’d gone into Kirk’s room
late at night to snoop around, finding the fake brochures of a
company which didn’t exist and could never fulfill its
promise of producing pills, geno or otherwise.

His father never trusted him from that moment on. Still,

good thing…in such a case. The man was overprotective and
thought of Kirk as a useless waste of space who only wanted
to fuck and dream of ways to waste money. Kirk would
have lost a lot, including any shred of dignity he might have
had left in his father’s eyes. At times such as that, Kirk
wished his mother hadn’t passed away after his birth.
Sometimes, to have her touch upon his head would be
enough to cure all his ills. Maybe if she was around he
would have been more responsible.

“I was tied up with business. You know that,” Kirk lied.

“Besides, I don’t want to know what you and your man do

Atlantica Dream

in the bedroom, it’ll make me fucking jealous and then I’ll
have to jack off thinking of you with no pubes, being licked
all over.”

“That’s the idea, handsome.” Wiks grabbed Kirk’s hands,

squeezing them tight. “Now, where can a man get out of his
cum stained clothes and into something more comfortable
around here?”

Before Kirk could answer, a shadow came over him. He

turned, but all too late. A man built like a robo-dozer, the
kind like they used on the space amplifier those creepy
Schism beings ordered be constructed to complete their
ancient genocide against all shifters, landed a meaty fist
straight onto Kirk’s jaw.

As Kirk found the marble tiled and gold adorned floor,

tasting his own coppery blood flooding into his mouth from
the hit, Wiks’s boyfriend, Dodger, shouted, “Get your filthy
fucking hands off my man, rich boy.”

Whether the effects of the Atlantica Dream he had taken

earlier had worn off, or whether the drug had another
strange effect on him now that his sexual energy had been
expended, he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was, with
blurred vision and while he struggled to his feet, he once
more found the ground unable to support his own weight.

An agonizing moment later, one filled with intense pain

all through his body, unconsciousness found Kirk.

Mark Alders

Chapter Two

yndarum was a platypus—well, a platypus shifter, to be
exact. He had sacrificed himself to save his clan when the
Schism came to their moon, one of many orbiting Boonta.

The now working space amplifier had detected him.
Thankfully, the device didn’t reveal the quantity, only the
whereabouts.

As far as the Schism knew, Lyndarum was the only one of

his kind. Sure, he’d suffer whatever fate dealt him, but even
then, as he was caged and taken onboard one of the Schism
vehicles, a vessel which could travel in the corridors of space
and time between universes, he was comforted in the
knowledge his clan—his family—was safe.

A Schism entered the prison in which he found himself.

The being could only be described as a dark object, obscured
by oblique angles created by dark matter seeping into the
known universe, which didn’t quite reveal the being’s true
identity. The air around the alien seemed to burn and scorch,
as if it had been branded with a hot iron. “You are a shifter?”
was all it asked when close enough to the cage so its metallic
voice could vibrate the cage bars.

“You know I am!”
“Where are the others of your kind?”
Lyndarum didn’t want to play the game. He knew the

Schism would never rest, never stop in their hunt of shifters,
no matter their form. “I’m the only one of my kind. You’ve

Atlantica Dream

killed us all, you bastards.”

“One of you is too many.” The Schism jailer stepped

forward. The air hummed with his actions and Lyndarum
stepped back, not wanting to be scorched by the heat
generated by the being clinging onto two universes, the one
of normal matter and the one of the dark, at the same time.
“But for the moment you may serve a purpose to our
glorious war, one which will help heal the rift of our
religions and bring the Schism closer to immortality.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, you monster?”
With a touch of its hand—both there and not—on the

cage, a jolt of energy struck Lyndarum. The electricity, or
whatever it was, passed through his skin causing his blood
to seethe. He collapsed onto the floor, curled into the fetal
position. Pain shot through him, crippling and unlike any he
had ever experienced.

Lyndarum screamed, “Stop! Please, stop!”
The being seemed to listen. “I imagine you understand

what will happen to you if you do not obey. After all, death
is your release, but until then, you will serve us. We know
there are others of your kind. If you do not do as we say,
perhaps I should instruct my order to investigate the Moon
where we detected your presence in more detail.”

“You’ll kill them all anyway.”
“Yes, but would you want us to kill them because of what

you have done right now? Or would you rather a message
got to your colony before we arrived to warn them, to give
them a chance to escape, to prolong their demise one more
day?”

Then a terrible thought struck Lyndarum. Yes, the Schism

wanted all shifters dead, but at the same time, they were
going to make sport of their destruction. They were
monsters. Monsters who had bled from the cracks into this
universe to wage their war on shifters for a reason only they

Mark Alders

knew. “Are you saying you’ll let them go free if I do what
you ask of me?”

“Yes.”
“You’re fucking sick.” Lyndarum thought again. “How

can I trust you? Your kind hasn’t exactly been hospitable to
anyone here, especially us shifters.”

“Because the universe you walk in is becoming thin with

your kind and we require a certain amount of your kind to
complete our holy mission.”

“I don’t understand.”
The Schism seemed to become agitated. The air around

the dark-matter-being once more cracked and sizzled. “Will
you do what is required of you?”

What choice did Lyndarum have? If he said no, his family

would be dead within a blink of an eye. If he said yes, they’d
be as dead, but not today. He felt terrible. The guilt rose up
to prickle at the back of his neck. How could he have
sacrificed himself to be trapped like this? What a waste. He
thought they would kill him, then be on their way, leaving
his colony alone. No. Things had to get complicated, didn’t
they? “What do I have to do?” he said with a meek, quiet
voice.

“There is a colony of shifters hiding out of range of the

space amplifier, out on the rim of this system near the Moon
of Mjae. We believe they are one of the last of the shifter
kind, aside from the little band of platypus shifters you
claim are your clan.”

Lyndarum knew where this was going. Before the Schism

could finish, he interjected, “You want me to rat them out for
you? Or at least find out why you can’t detect them…is that
it?”

The air sizzled again, but this time Lyndarum couldn’t

help but get the impression the Schism was laughing. “Yes,
you are to become a part of a trap we’ve begun to spring.”

Atlantica Dream

“Great…just what I wanted, to be the death of us all.”
“No shifter can resist another in danger. You are to be

sold at the Mattock Markets as a sexual slave to inform us of
anything that can lead us to our goal or gain us any
information which will do the same. You will then be bought
by a Schism sympathizer. You will tell your new master
everything you have discovered about any shifters who may
be hiding in the slave markets before we approach you once
more. One of them may be a member of the Mjae clan. A
simple plan, you must agree, but one that will prove
devastating to your kind lurking in the places even we can’t
get to easily.”

In that moment, Lyndarum couldn’t help but believe—

live in the hope—that he could buy his family some time.
Even a day would be enough to get them onto a transport
and out of the system. They would be free of the Schism
forever. He had known of a couple of colonies who had
escaped the Schism’s grasp, one recently of the peacock
people. Perhaps the platypus clan could do the same. All
they needed was time and Lyndarum would give them that
chance, no matter what.

“I’ll do what you say,” he mumbled, not one shred of

pride in his words. If he was going to become a slave, sexual
or otherwise, or an informant, then he’d have to put his past
life behind him for as long as it took, possibly even the rest
of his life.

Another Schism entered the prison room.
There was a brief exchange between the beings, one

Lyndarum didn’t understand because it must have been
done on a sub-space level or something. Only the change in
their strange form gave any clue they were communicating.
Again, the air seemed to accentuate their movements. Was
their talk created by the shimmering space between them,
one where light and darkness became a kaleidoscope?

Mark Alders

When their conversation had run its course, the first

Schism, the jailer Lyndarum imagined, turned to him, and
said. “Take off your clothing, shifter. We are approaching
Ardross Major. You are to be ready for the markets—an
experienced trader named Oggard will be onboard our
vehicle within moments to take you.”

When the Schism said in a moment, he wasn’t joking. A

human, one large bodied, with fat on him revealing his
excessive lifestyle, obviously fuelled by his wealth gained by
trading young men to the slave industry, entered the room.
The man eyed Lyndarum up and down. “Is this the
specimen you want me to take off your hands?”

The Schism said, “He is the one.” The Schism turned to

Lyndarum.

“Not much of a specimen is it?” the man questioned with

a dissatisfied sneer, his beady eyes glinting in the dark of the
room.

“Take off your clothes as you were instructed or the

arrangement we have constructed will be forfeit.” The
Schism’s body darkened, the blackness as eternal as the
universe he had bled into from beyond matter. The being
looked like a hole in space, and Lyndarum’s stomach turned
with fear. All he could imagine were the poor shifters before
him who had met their fate at the hands of these supernatural
aliens.

Lyndarum was able to stand in his cage. He slipped off

his trousers and took off his shirt, swallowing his pride at
the same time he tried to swallow the growing lump of
anger, disgust and fear in his throat. Then, he pulled down
his underwear. His cock sprang up, free from the cloth
which held it. Lyndarum, even though naked, felt the most
exposed he had ever felt in all his life. For a start he was
open for all to scrutinize him like an object, which in a way
he now was. He was to be sold at the markets, his fate

Atlantica Dream

perhaps worse than death under the whip of his new master.
Again, he did such a thing for his family—his clan. He did it
for the ones he loved and he had to keep telling himself that
for fear of not being able to go on.

The trader didn’t even lift an eyebrow. “It’s quite

damaged, isn’t it?”

“He will be all profit for you, trader.”
By damaged, Lyndarum assumed the man was talking

about his freckles. He was covered in them. One of his
previous lovers—now lost to the Schism hate, may his soul
rest in peace, had said many times they were one of his best
features. Made Lyndarum adorable, he claimed, and many
times he would play connect the dots on his skin, trailing his
finger down to his groin as part of one of their many
foreplay games. But to the slave trade, any blemish, mark,
freckle, mole or birthmark on the skin lowered the price and
therefore the profit for the trader. The truth be told,
Lyndarum wouldn’t have been sold, or even given away. He
would have been killed, if the traders had caught up with
him before the Schism. How ironic.

“Well, at least it hasn’t been circumcised, that’s a positive,

I suppose,” the slave trader said. “Have you tried to sell a
lad from the Moon Jayacynth? The peasant folks there
foolishly circumcise all their boys in the hope they will be
passed up when the traders visit. How wrong they are. It
just lowers the boys’ initial buying price and then the whole
village suffers because they can’t buy food when the seasons
change against them, that’s all. I mean, a boy who is stock is
a boy who is stock—”

The Schism waved its hand to silence the man who

seemed to like the sound of his own voice. “Take the
abomination off my vehicle and make sure he’s sold to one
of our sympathizers. Do whatever you have to at the
auction. I don’t care. Kill him if you must, but not before he’s

Mark Alders

completed our arrangement. Am I clear, Mister Oggard?”

The trader swallowed, his jowls jiggling. “Sure…I

understand. Do what I have to. Yeah, I got it.”

Lyndarum closed his eyes. His life of hell had begun.

Atlantica Dream

Chapter Three

aking up after a night of heightened sexual energy,
then a punch in the face by a jealous boyfriend of an
old flame, wasn’t exactly how Kirk had planned his

birthday celebration to go. Then again, he had been in a lot
worse situations.

He opened his eyelids. His bones ached and his head

pounded. When he had thought about being in worse
situations, he changed his mind as soon as he soaked in the
environment in which he found himself.

Kirk was in a cage.
Not any cage, but one forming part of a large corridor of

cages, like battery hens used to be housed in from the days
of old Earth, but human sized. Kirk was in the holding pens
of the slave markets of the Mattock Markets.

He jumped up. In that instant, he realized he was naked,

his cock and balls slapping against his skin because of his
sudden movement. “Hey! Get me the fuck out of here!
There’s been some sort of mistake. I’m Kirk Skelling! I’m
Kirk Skelling and I’m not supposed to be here,” he shouted
at the top of his lungs to no one in particular—well, that
wasn’t true. He was aiming his anger at one of the workers
who ambled by at the same time he decided to rattle the
cage and spew out the facts about his unjust capture.

The man, who had no doubt heard him, glanced up

casually at Kirk with amused disinterest. He looked him up

Mark Alders

and down, concentrating his stare at Kirk’s groin, and said,
“That’s what they all say. Now do you want to go to the
toilet before we lock up the alley for the night, pretty boy, or
don’t you?”

Kirk didn’t know what to say other than continue telling

anyone who cared to listen about how he shouldn’t be in this
place. “I want to fucking go home, that’s what I want. My
father is Arton Skelling, Boonta bovine entrepreneur and
billionaire and he’ll make sure you all pay for kidnapping
his only son. You’ll all fucking pay, you hear me! Fucking
pay.”

The worker pressed his lips together. “I take it you don’t

need to go to the toilet then.” He sauntered off, carrying a
bucket Kirk had only seen at that moment. He took it the
bucket was the toilet, the evidence of his observation when
the two young men locked in the cage next to him pissed
into it when offered. Some job, collecting slave urine.
Perhaps even lower than the slaves themselves.

“You should have relieved yourself,” a voice said from

behind Kirk, one soft and melodious. “It’s going to be a long
night.”

Kirk turned his attention to the disturbance. Sitting with

his legs up, knees at his chin so that his genitals hung down
to touch the straw-covered cage floor, was a young man
with a shock of short, red hair on his head and pubes to
match. What’s more, he had freckles everywhere, including
his arms, legs, chest and stomach. The most Kirk had ever
seen on anyone.

He was attractive, in a weird sort of way.
Yes, the man’s features were pleasant, his eyes an intense

blue. Heck, even his cock would be something nice to play
with, especially seeing as he had a nice long foreskin. But
with those freckles, he kind of looked…alien…if such a thing
could be possible. Kirk got a feeling about the man he’d

Atlantica Dream

never felt before. Curiosity and want. Normally, if he
wanted something because he was curious about it, he
would get it, being the son of a rich man. But right now the
situation was the most foreign he had been in since birth. He
couldn’t have anything, because slaves couldn’t own
anything, being property themselves. Kirk was owned by
the trader who acquired him. This raised another question,
and the original one that popped into his mind as soon as he
became conscious. Why was he here?

“Who the fuck are you?” Kirk blurted. His anger hadn’t

subsided one bit, even if he was looking at an attractive
naked man, freckle covered or not.

“I’m Lyndarum and you must be something quite special

indeed.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Your dog tag.” Lyndarum pointed to the object of his

words. “Quite a read, that.”

Kirk realized he was indeed wearing a dog tag. Of course

he was, all slaves before sale had them. Kirk studied his. It
read, 21-332-15000. When done, he studied the dog tag of
man who called himself Lyndarum, one which glinted in the
fading light of sunset and looked somewhat alluring around
his neck by making him look rugged. The man’s read, 19-
332-(F). If Kirk remembered right from the boys he had
purchased himself at the Mattock Markets, boys which
provided him with all his sexual relief when he couldn’t get
any from anyone else, the first set of digits was the age of the
slave, the second was the batch number at the auction on
auction day, and the third was the reserve price. A price
which was calculated by the slave’s redeeming features and
possible interest by potential buyers. What the F stood for in
Lyndarum’s case, he couldn’t hazard a guess. He’d never
seen such a thing before.

“So is your tag. What’s the F stand for? Good fuck or

Mark Alders

something?”

Lyndarum’s smile was wiped from his face, and for a

brief instant, what seemed like a flash of shame crossed his
otherwise pleasant features. “The F means I am free to a
buyer who purchases all the lots in batch 332, that’s what.
You and I are batch 332.”

“You mean…when someone buys me, they get you as

part of the deal?”

“Yep. I’m damaged goods. In fact, while being escorted

down here, the trader himself said he’d have rather killed
me on the spot to save him time and money than put me up
for auction if I didn’t have a foreskin. The only slave who
could be valued lower than me and have a D for death-as-
soon-as-possible tag at the end of his serial numbers would be
a circumcised boy from the Jayacynth Moon who had an
infestation of blistering pimples all over his skin.”

“Ouch.”
“It’s okay. At least I know I’ve been batched up with a

stunner like you, even if you are a bit of a self-centered prick
from the few words that have flowed from your mouth…as
far as I can tell, in any case.”

“Hey, I ain’t a prick.”
Lyndarum’s smile returned. “I stand corrected.”
Kirk examined his dog tag again, then looked at his cell

mate. “Well, I take it I’m going for a few credits then, right?”

Lyndarum nodded. “The most I’ve ever seen a slave being

reserved for, I’d have to say. I mean look at you. You’re
perfect. Your skin is free from even the slightest mark. I
mean, it’s like pale silk spun from the finest worms in the
system and quite breathtaking, if you ask me. Some buyer
will be cherishing your smooth arse as his cock warmer for
many days, that’s for sure.”

Kirk felt a flush of embarrassment wash over him for an

instant. “I’m not perfect…”

Atlantica Dream

“Like fun you’re not. Even your foreskin is wrinkle free

and caps off your cock beautifully by coming to a lovely
pucker-tipped point. I haven’t seen the likes of anyone like
you ever, and I’ve been around. The market worker was
right when he said you’re a pretty boy.”

“Fuck you, I’m not a pretty boy. Bend the fuck over and

I’ll show you how beautiful my cock is when I shove it good
and hard and without lube up your freckled arse!” But the
young man’s words didn’t anger Kirk, not in a way which
would have seen him become a rage of foul words and
flailing gestures like he would when he didn’t get his way at
home. Instead, his words fired even more than curiosity. His
words fired arousal…lust even.

Lyndarum smiled. “Yep, self-centered. Besides, slaves

aren’t allowed to copulate unless instructed by their masters.
Now, who are you? You certainly don’t look like you belong
here…pretty boy.”

Kirk sat, a calm coming over him. Being angry didn’t get a

rise out of Lyndarum like it would his father. No fun playing
such a game then. Besides, he was tired of parading around
for all to gawk at. Even the other slaves in the closest cages
stared like love sick school boys. “To tell the truth, I don’t
know why I’m here. I was celebrating my twenty-first
birthday last night and there was a sort of fight…and—well,
I woke up here in this straw covered cage with you.”

“A fight? With you involved? I find that hard to believe,”

Lyndarum said with a chuckle behind his hand.

“Steady…I can still fuck you whether or not I’m allowed.”
“Promises, promises.”
In that moment, Kirk’s groin stirred. Seemed Lyndarum

was a gay man—or a bi one at the least. Interesting. Kirk
certainly wouldn’t mind looking down to see the man’s
freckled lips being parted by his rock hard, throbbing cock.
Hopefully, he knew how to suck properly.

Mark Alders

At the moment, when Kirk was about to speak, tell

Lyndarum how he was pushing his luck and could end up
on the receiving end of some serious cock action, the
shutters surrounding the slave’s holding pens closed tight.
No light penetrated them and the whole alley was plunged
into darkness.

“I take it that’s the signal we’ve got to go to bed?”
“Yep. And they will be opened at first light, too. Around

six in the morning on this planet from what I’ve worked out.
Long days and even longer nights here for us slaves.”

“Say, Lyndarum, how long have you been here?”
“Four days. I was offered at five credits to start with, but

didn’t attract any buyers no matter how many times the
auctioneer parted my buttocks or retracted my foreskin for
the crowd’s enjoyment. The next day, I was three
credits…then two…and so on until this morning my dog tag
was changed to the lovely F you see now and I knew another
would soon join me in this cage.” Sadness imbued
Lyndarum’s words once more.

It seemed Kirk wasn’t the only one who took pride in

himself. Then again, the man was right, Kirk was self-
centered, so pride in Kirk’s case was probably too soft a
word. Why wouldn’t Kirk be self-centered, anyway? He was
the only son and child of a billionaire. But yes, Lyndarum
wasn’t like Kirk. Lyndarum was proud from what Kirk
gathered in the little time they had spent together and the
conversation they had shared. The red-head wasn’t the only
one analyzing the situation. Damn, Lyndarum was getting
more and more attractive with each passing second. Typical,
Kirk found someone even more interesting than Wiks, but
because of the situation he would never be able to act on his
lust…or feelings, because he was now a slave.

Kirk lay down on the straw.
Lyndarum came next to him, placing a warm hand on

Atlantica Dream

Kirk’s stomach. The man’s breathing was loud against the
soft whimpers and moans of the slaves in the other cages,
but not enough to disturb Kirk from his thoughts.

Hopefully, tomorrow would see some more information

come to him about why he was here in the Mattock Markets
in the first place. He’d sure break some heads if he ever
found out who had sold him to a slave trader, that was for
certain. What’s more, he’d have to do as much as humanly
possible to get out of this situation. Perhaps Lyndarum
could help him. Why else would they have been fated to
meet? One thing Kirk believed in was situations happened
for a reason. Sure, most of the time, such a notion was a
selfish one, but this time, he felt—no, knew it was different.
This time, he knew Lyndarum was someone special, offered
for free or not.

Kirk fell into an uneasy sleep.

Mark Alders

Chapter Four

yndarum woke the moment the retractable roof was
cracked open. He had always been a light sleeper. Plus,
being one of the first to rise meant he would be the first

to piss into the toilet bucket when offered, not having to wait
for the unenthusiastic market worker to empty it. Such a
thing could take ages as the morning piss was the most
important of the day, especially before breakfast was
offered. Eating the stodge the traders provided sure wasn’t
good to digest on a full bladder.

After he had called over the worker and done his

business, he glanced over to his cell mate. The man slept like
a baby. Perhaps growing up as a spoiled brat of a billionaire
had meant he had nothing to worry about while he slept.
Lyndarum, being a shifter, had learnt long ago to practically
sleep with one eye open.

While he studied the man, his perfect skin, his handsome

features and rather ample genitals, Kirk stirred. Yes, he was
beautiful. Too beautiful. Was he a shifter himself? Perhaps
he was a member of the colony the Schism was seeking
before they captured Lyndarum and forced him to deal with
the Devil to protect his own.

Right at that moment, guilt found him. How could he

lead others to death to save his own? He was no better than
the Schism if he did such a thing. He would be a murderer
himself.

Atlantica Dream

He swallowed hard.
In that moment, Lyndarum decided, with or without

Kirk’s help, whether or not he was a shifter as well, that he’d
do whatever he could to not only keep his platypus brothers
and sisters alive and flourishing, but the other colony the
Schism sought, too. He had heard of one colony, one that
thrived on a moon on the outer rim of the system, orbiting a
planet surrounded by a powerful magnetic field and an
asteroid belt. Was that Mjae? Was that why the Schism
couldn’t get close? Did dark matter become unstable when
close to a strong EM field?

Lyndarum wasn’t sure about all that. But some truth

might be found in such logic. After all, why bribe a shifter to
rat out another shifter when they could kill both colonies
without too much effort? Yes, that must be it. This other
colony, it must be inaccessible to the Schism. No wonder
they took him and used him for their sick and twisted goal.
What other reason would there have been? Schism usually
killed on sight, no questions asked.

Kirk stirred.
Lyndarum watched him with increasing interest. His cell

mate was in no rush to wake. He’d never seen a man so
content, so happy within himself. Perhaps all he had to fear
was growing old and impotent.

“You awake?” Lyndarum asked, stating the obvious, but

thinking of no other way to start the conversation.

“Yeah,” Kirk replied with a lazy drawl. “Where’s that piss

bucket. I need to take a slash like you wouldn’t believe. All
that Atlantica Dream is now passing through me, and fuck,
it’s giving me hell.”

Sure enough, even though the man had morning glory,

his foreskin partially retracted to reveal his pink head, the
man stood up, staggered over to the edge of the cage and
relieved himself. The bucket man nowhere to be seen, Kirk

Mark Alders

just did it…all over the concrete of slave alley. Man, the
market worker was going to be livid when he discovered
he’d have to hose slave piss off the floor before the
morning’s round of potential buyers was let in after
breakfast.

“You can’t piss there,” Lyndarum said, surprise imbued

in his voice.

Kirk’s cock had gone flaccid once his stream of urine had

finished. He shook the last remnants of piss off the end of his
dick, then turned around. “Man, that was almost fucking
bright green. I’m damn well pissing coolant here. Must have
been a hell of a night.” He sat on the straw. “So when do
they feed us? I’m fucking starving. I could eat a whole
Boonta bovine right about now.”

“Soon.” Lyndarum had to admire the man. He didn’t

seem to have a care in the world, even though he was now a
slave. Sure, he’d fetch a hefty price, but still, beauty didn’t
mean too much once sold. Usually, it meant the handsome
ones were killed off a bit quicker because they were the
favorites of the house and therefore fucked the most.
Lyndarum had heard of one handsome man who had to
endure forty-eight straight hours of sex because his master
had organized a party and invited all his friends to have a go
at his arse whenever they felt like it. The poor slave was
pounded to the point of exhaustion, offered no water or
food. Suffice it to say, he didn’t last much longer once the
party guests left to go home. What a way to die.

Lyndarum swallowed hard. He felt for Kirk. He’d be

fucked red raw and then some once he got into a master’s
home. Lyndarum would probably be killed as soon as he
was delivered. In that moment, he didn’t know which fate
was worse—well, yes he did. A quick death was always a
better option.

“Good. If I don’t get some food soon, I’ll faint. If that

Atlantica Dream

happens I’ll probably knock my head, creating a nasty bruise
which would then lower my price at auction. Not what the
trader who bought me would want, I’d wager.”

“You sure are confident, for a slave,” Lyndarum said.
“Who says I’m going to be a slave for long?”
Lyndarum let out a laugh, but not one borne from

something humorous. Rather, in reaction to Kirk’s over
confidence. “Once you’re a slave, the only release from that
is either death or if a citizen gives you your freedom. Death
is usually the more popular option.”

Kirk winked at Lyndarum. “We’ll get out of this, buddy.

You just stick with me, you’ll see.”

Right then, Lyndarum felt sadness for Kirk. The man was

delusional. Perhaps the Atlantica Dream was still coursing
though his system to give him a false sense of confidence.
Who knew? Whatever the case, one thing was certain.
Lyndarum would be sticking with Kirk. Their batch number
was the same.

“Grub’s up!” the market worker, the same man as last

night, shouted. Seconds later, two trays with what looked
like bowls of porridge were pushed through the serving slot
of their cage.

Lyndarum eagerly grabbed one.
Kirk stood. “Hey you, worker dude, go get me your boss.

I want to tell him I’m Kirk Skelling and that I’m to be
released this instant. Oh, and tell him I’m taking my friend
here with me, as well. Now run along.”

The worker offered a crooked smile. “Yeah, sure, I will.

And while I’m in there I’ll arrange for the limo to take you.
Say, why not take your pick of two slaves boys here in the
alley to wash you before you leave, your fucking majesty.”

Kirk frowned. “Asshole.”
The man looked down at the puddle of urine Kirk had left

as a present for him to clean up. “Damn fucking pretty

Mark Alders

boys…they’re the worst. I hope your new master teaches
you some respect.”

Lyndarum was enjoying the exchange. Unfortunately, the

first round of potential buyers had already begun their walk
up the slave alley, traders in tow. By the time they arrived at
their cage, both had finished their porridge—or whatever
the stuff was. Kirk had complained how awful it was, yet ate
it all the same. Hunger was hunger and food was food,
Lyndarum supposed.

Three faces peered into their cage.
“Am I led to believe that other one will be offered for free

with the pretty one?” a man asked.

The trader, Mr. Oggard, nodded his head, an effect which

made his jowls jiggle in a rather disturbing way. “Yes, yes.
You get two for the price of one here, gentlemen.”

The other man, one in a fine pressed suit, more mature

than the other, said, “I should think so at that price.”

“He is expensive, but just look at what you’ll get. You’ll

be the envy of the quadrant with a slave like that at your
every whim. Think of the attention you’ll receive when you
take it for walks. That penis alone would be a conversation
piece at the dinner table, mark my words.”

Both men nodded. The other added, “I suppose you’re

right. Still, it is a lot of money—when is the auction for the
both of them, anyway?”

Mr. Oggard replied, “First auction of the day, in one

hour.” He clicked his fingers. The market worker ambled
close. “Ray, get these two cleaned up. They’re the first off the
rank this morning and I want them both to shine—well, do
the best you can with the damaged one. There’s a good
fellow.”

The worker named Ray unlocked the cage and pointed a

light stick at Lyndarum and Kirk. The stick had an electrical
charge, sort of like a cattle prod, but wouldn’t leave a mark

Atlantica Dream

on human skin. An added blemish, especially right before an
auction, had to be avoided at all costs.

The man jabbed the stick into Kirk. He yelped. “Come

along, your majesty. Time to address your court.”

Kirk mumbled something under his breath, but he did

something Lyndarum wouldn’t have expected. He grabbed
Lyndarum’s hand, holding him tight.

The two potential buyers smiled. The first said, “Are they

lovers, Mr. Oggard?”

The trader looked surprised himself, but without

skipping a beat, or missing an opportunity, replied, “Yes.
Yes, they are.”

The second man said, “I like that touch. A good find,

trader, getting two lovers in the same batch. Sure, the
skinnier one is damaged, all those freckles, but I have to
admit, his skin is a nice contrast to the other. Perhaps the
price for these two is worth it, after all.”

“Oh, and they’d be happy to perform any act of

copulation for you at any time, should you be the winning
bidders…of course.” The trader’s eyes were aglow with the
lust of profit. Lyndarum felt sick, getting one final look at
the men who might be his new masters before Ray took
them both to the shower room.

The first man smiled. “Of course.”
Ray opened a door guarded by two armed guards at the

end of the alley. Beyond the door lay a large tiled room with
open showers and toilets inside. Lyndarum couldn’t help
but notice the room only had one exit…the entrance. “Do
what you have to, slaves. Take a shower, shave, shit,
whatever. Just be ready in an hour for your auction. Got it?”

They were shoved inside the room, the light stick used to

encourage them. The door was secured.

When Ray’s footsteps could no longer be heard, Kirk said,

“At least I get to shower. I can’t feel close to civilized unless

Mark Alders

I’ve had a good scrub under my hood, right, Lyndarum?”
He turned on the tap, steam billowing around him within
seconds.

Lyndarum didn’t answer. Instead, he couldn’t help but

watch—no, study Kirk while the man washed himself. How
he would love to be the soap his cell mate held. Damn, the
way he ran it across his skin, exploring his body with it,
under arms, down parted buttocks, over his fine balls and
cock, under his retracted foreskin, up his stomach, over his
hard chest, that was something quite…alluring.

He licked his lips, stepping up to the next showerhead,

and turning on the taps. Seconds later, Lyndarum was
covered in warm water. The heat of the room grew in
intensity with the steam, adding more fuel to his thoughts.

Lyndarum had an erection.
Right at that moment, when Lyndarum was at his

hardest, and doing his best to try and not think about his
erection in the hope it would ease, Kirk looked at him.
“Wow, Lyndarum, you sure have got some nice wood
there.”

“I…I…” Before he could splutter out any other words,

Kirk came close. So close, the steam created by the two
showers was nothing but a distraction.

Kirk grabbed Lyndarum’s cock. “You want me to help

wash you, buddy?”

The tight grip on his dick made Lyndarum gasp. He

replied with a whisper, barely audible over the running
water, “Yes.”

Within a blink of an eye, Kirk was massaging the length

of Lyndarum’s cock, his touch not only expert, but oh, so
welcome as well. Again he gasped, more so when Kirk
retracted his foreskin fully and began concentrating his
touch on and around his sensitive frenulum and head.

Before Lyndarum could blink—or say that Kirk didn’t

Atlantica Dream

have to do anything he didn’t want to do—the man was on
his knees, his beautiful, plump lips kissing his bulging head.

The water of the showers didn’t seem to bother Kirk from

what Lyndarum could tell. Seemed his dick was Kirk’s focus
and nothing, not even a thousand prods of Ray’s light stick,
could stop him from his efforts.

What an effort it was.
Kirk was soon sucking on Lyndarum like a babe at a teat.

Slurping and groaning, using the perfect amount of suction
to send shivers of delight all through Lyndarum. In fact, he
had to hold onto the taps for fear of collapsing because of the
joy. Sure, he’d had boyfriends in the past, but not one, ever,
had sucked him off without getting to know him first. Not so
with Kirk. Seemed this man, this confident, almost arrogant
man, took what he wanted and got it. Who was Lyndarum
to complain about such a thing?

After a good, long session of licking, sucking and kissing

of Lyndarum’s cock by one of the most beautiful men he’d
ever seen, he felt the pangs of climax rise up to create flutters
of joy inside his stomach.

Seconds later, Lyndarum blew his load.
Should he have told Kirk he was going to come? Was that

the proper etiquette here? Who knew? All Lyndarum could
fathom was that he’d received one of the greatest blow jobs
of his life, and he didn’t even have to ask for it.

Kirk took all of what Lyndarum gave him. When spent,

Kirk pulled away. A dribble of cum trickled down his chin
until it was washed away by the warm water stream he re-
entered, getting back to the business of washing himself
with the soap which turned Lyndarum on in the first place.
He noticed Kirk’s cum swirl down the drain. Seemed the
man had pleasured himself while he enjoyed Lyndarum’s
erection inside his mouth.

How unselfish was that?

Mark Alders

“You’re a strange man,” Lyndarum said, picking up a

cake of soap from the holder.

“How so, beautiful?”
The man called him beautiful. Lyndarum was shocked

once more. Very rare for him to be surprised, especially
twice in one day. “I mean, why did you do that?”

“Didn’t you like it?”
Lyndarum ran the soap over himself, enjoying the

sensation. “Why yes…I loved it. But what reward did you
gain from doing such a thing? I mean, you’re obviously not a
slave—or at least from what I know of slave boys born into
the trade, you’re certainly not one of those, anyway. Perhaps
you’re who you say you are, the son of a rich man. But still, I
don’t know anyone who would give something like that to
another without some sort of reciprocation…at the least.”

“You mean you think I’m a selfish prick and now you’re

wondering why I just blew you to Heaven, is that it?”

Lyndarum’s mouth fell open. He didn’t quite know how

to reply to such words—because basically, the words Kirk
spoke were the truth. He was selfish, yet, he did one of the
most unselfish things…ever.

Kirk turned off the shower, coming into Lyndarum’s

stream. “It’s quite simple. I’m a cock sucker.”

“Aren’t we all?”
“No, no. You don’t understand. I am a selfish bastard,

always have been, but I really do enjoy sucking cock and do
so simply for the pleasure it gives me. Nothing more. When I
saw you all hard and ready, I had to have it. I mean,
enjoying your dick, tasting your goodness, feeling it throb
inside my mouth while you were consumed with pleasure,
and then getting my reward, that was more than enough for
me to bring me to climax as well. I didn’t need reciprocation.
Like I said, I’m a cock sucker.”

“I see. I think.”

Atlantica Dream

Kirk slapped Lyndarum on his buttocks, a loud, wet

thwack reverberated through the shower room. “I’m also an
arse fucker. So keep it warm for me, Lyn, buddy—can I call
you Lyn? I’ll need what you’ve got real soon.”

Then Lyndarum got it. Kirk was a conqueror, and as such,

took any opportunity to conquer what he wanted. Giving a
free, no strings attached blow job, that was a tactic. Damn,
the man was good. “You can call me Lyn…and I’m glad I’m
batched up with you, Kirk. I think….for the first time since I
got here, there’s some hope we’ll escape.”

Kirk leant over and kissed Lyndarum, square on his lips

and with a good amount of tongue, too. When he was
overwhelmed with the tang of the man’s saliva, and
breathless from the action, he parted.

“We will get out of here, that much I know.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because, beautiful, I’ve got an enemy.”
Once more, Lyndarum didn’t understand Kirk’s words.

Not until he spoke his next sentence. “If there’s one thing
I’ve learned in life, enemies like to gloat. When we’re at our
darkest hour, when we think all hope is lost, that’s when my
enemy will show. When that happens, I’ll be ready for
them—we’ll be ready for them.”

“Are you saying this so-called enemy of yours will free

us?”

“Yep.”
“Why would they do that?”
“To make sure we keep suffering, of course. After all, if

they wanted me dead, they would have done that already.
No, this enemy of mine wants to see me suffer—and selling
me to a slave trader, that’s just the beginning. I can feel it in
my guts.”

“What could be worse than being a slave?”
Kirk grabbed Lyndarum’s hand. “I don’t know. But we’ll

Mark Alders

soon find out. Now, are you with me or not?”

“Yes. I’m with you.” Lyndarum couldn’t believe he’d said

that. Not right off the tip of his tongue and without thought,
at any rate. Never had he been so impulsive. Again,
probably Kirk’s intention all along when he got on his knees
and let Lyndarum feed him his cock. Damn, conquerors
were crafty…and fucking sexy. “I’m with you.”

Kirk smiled. He ran his hands across Lyndarum’s cheeks.

“Good.”

They kissed again, one filled with dizzy spells, sensational

feelings and an overwhelming sense of belonging. If Kirk
was a selfish, rich bastard as he had claimed, then Lyndarum
had hit the jackpot.

Trouble was, could they survive long enough to enjoy

each other even more?

Atlantica Dream

Chapter Five

he auction went off without a hitch, as far as slave
auctions went, Kirk supposed. He had attended many—
although, never as the merchandise. The trader who

owned them showed the salivating crowd all around the
ring Kirk’s beautiful body in all its detail while he stood
there like an obedient dog. The man even spread his legs,
showed them all Kirk’s asshole to jack up the price even
more.

The trader even got him to kiss Lyndarum for the public’s

pleasure.

Kirk had to admit, the show tactics worked. The ring was

at a fever pitch by the time bidding had begun in earnest. All
in all, Kirk went for five-thousand above his reserve, the
most expensive slave sold in recent memory. One buyer
even offered five credits for Lyndarum if he accepted a
spanking from Kirk.

Mr. Oggard didn’t hesitate, as Kirk knew he wouldn’t.

Five credits was five credits. Sure, slaves weren’t permitted
under governing body laws to engage in sexual acts while
owned by traders, but spankings to get the crowd even more
excited, they were permitted.

Kirk gave them what they wanted, but made sure he

spanked Lyndarum with a cupped hand. Such a method
would create a loud spanking sound, but not hurt his latest
interest too much. Yes, Kirk had to admit, the freckled,

Mark Alders

skinny red-haired man who he had shared a slave cage with
last night, and who he’d given a blow job to not half an hour
earlier, had caught his interest. So much so, Kirk couldn’t
wait to taste his arse. He had a fine bubble butt, one Kirk
would sure like to eat before he fucked him good and hard.
He imagined the man writhing and begging for more while
he sank his cock in deeper and deeper into his warmth. How
delicious such a thing would be.

Anticipation always kept Kirk’s interest. Yet somehow,

Lyndarum was different from all the others he had
conquered in his life, including Wiks. For some reason, Kirk
wanted to get to know the man on a level that was beyond
the physical. Fuck, was he falling for Lyndarum?

“That’s it, folks!” Mr. Oggard said, distracting Kirk from

his erotic…and interesting thoughts. The crowd had started
to dissipate, moving onto the next trader’s ring and the next
auction. Mr. Oggard, in a voice more akin to normal
conversation, said, “The winning bidders, congratulations
on your purchase—Ray, take these two slaves to the holding
pens ready for collection will you? I’ll be in my office
finalizing the sale.”

Kirk and Lyndarum were taken to another cage, one a

little larger and more comfortable than the previous one.
Because they had now been sold, they were treated better.
After all, nothing worse than damaging goods a trader
didn’t own.

“Do you know who bought us, Kirk?” Lyndarum asked.
“I think it was some ugly dude in the front row, why?”
“Just asking.”
“I would have preferred to have been bought by the two

who looked at us this morning, if you want to know,” Kirk
said, admitting his feelings to Lyndarum. Again, something
quite weird for him. He never let anyone he conquered
know how he felt.

Atlantica Dream

“Why’s that?”
“Because they wanted us to be together, that’s why. I

think us fucking would have amused them—all fine with
me. But this other bloke, the real buyer…I think he’s not so
into us being together.”

“He’ll probably get rid of me before we even see our new

home. I mean, look at me. I’m not exactly the handsomest
bloke you’d ever want to set your gaze upon, am I?”

“No, you’re not—”
Lyndarum was taken aback. “Thanks. Way to make me

feel better.”

Kirk reached over and grabbed Lyndarum’s hands to

hold them close to his chest. “If you’d let me finish, I was
going to say, no, you’re not handsome, you’re fucking
stunning, and if anyone even touches you to harm you,
they’ll have to go through me.” Again, Kirk couldn’t put into
cohesive thought why he would say such a thing. Every time
he looked at Lyndarum, he got flutters in his stomach. Every
time he thought about him, even in a non-sexual way, he felt
happier. In fact, he thought about Lyndarum a lot. Ever
since he’d blown him. Every other guy he had done that to
would have then wanted more. Not Lyndarum. He seemed
to be satisfied with anything Kirk did. Whether it be a gentle
kiss or a deep, hard suck of his cock. That was
something…different.

Lyndarum gasped, his eyes wide. “I don’t know what to

say.”

“Don’t say anything.” Again, this was totally new for

Kirk. Even Wiks had acted when he made moves on him,
boyfriend or not. Lyndarum didn’t lead on, or tease, or try to
seduce. He only looked at Kirk with those lovely blue eyes.
Were those eyes filled with lust? Kirk wasn’t sure. All he
knew was, he liked the stares.

The cage door rattled.

Mark Alders

Kirk turned to see Mr. Oggard and their new master

glaring at them. “Here they are, your eminence. All yours for
the taking.”

The man the trader referred to as eminence, said, “Deliver

them to my house within the hour. I have plans for them.”

“Yes, sir.”
Their buyer turned away, his disinterest in spending

another second in the holding pen area clear. The trader got
Ray to lift the cage with them still in it and loaded onto a
truck. Darkness found them when the doors were closed.

“Looks like this is it,” Kirk said.
Lyndarum came to embrace Kirk, snuggling into him.

Again, this was something new. Kirk had never known a
man to want nothing more than to be held…not unless he’d
just fucked him, in any case. To embrace without any chance
of sex, in the near or distant future, that was…weird.

Kirk ran his fingers through Lyndarum’s hair to comfort

him, whispering words like, “It’ll be all right,” and “Don’t
worry.” Fuck! Was Kirk really falling for this man? One
thing he knew, he didn’t want to see Lyndarum come to
harm. That was a first for him, as well. Then again,
Lyndarum was something different. Sure, he wasn’t
classically attractive, his features more unusual than
anything. But Kirk supposed that was part of his charm.
Lyndarum, as a result, wasn’t up himself.

“There’s something you should know about me,”

Lyndarum said, breaking their hold to look at Kirk.

A small light had been turned on. Sure, it was like being

lit by candlelight, but still, at least they could see each other.
“What is it?”

“I’m not….I’m not a human, Kirk.”
Then it struck Kirk. No wonder Lyndarum’s looks, as

plain as they were, had him by his short and curlies. The
man was an alien. How fucking hot was it getting now that

Atlantica Dream

he had a chance to get his end wet inside an alien man?
Damn, he was good at picking some damn fine arse.

Kirk kissed Lyndarum on his forehead. “I don’t care what

you are. I think…I think I’m falling for you and…fuck…if
the truth be told, I don’t want anything to happen to
you…ever. We’ll get out of this, I promise.”

Lyndarum smiled, one filled with nerves and worried

looks. “I’m a shifter.”

Now it was Kirk’s turn to be taken aback. “You’re a

what?”

“A shifter…a platypus shifter, to be exact…and the bond

that you think you feel toward me, that’s because I’ve
become grounded to you. You’re now…you’re my human
template for when I shift back into human form from my
natural state. You’re the person I need to solidify my hold on
this form.”

For all that Lyndarum had said, Kirk didn’t feel one shred

of anger. Normally, he would have been furious, a raving
lunatic by now for discovering such a thing. Not now. Was
that all part of the voodoo? Or was it something else? Was it
a true bond, as Lyndarum had said? Or was it something
more powerful? Was it love? Then again, it couldn’t be
love—could it? Kirk only loved one person. Kirk. “I think
that explains a lot.”

“I’m sorry to tell you like this, but if this is to be my last

hour alive, because our buyer didn’t look at me the same
way he looked at you, then I want you to know the truth. I
want you to know that I chose to become a slave to help save
my colony from the Schism.” Lyndarum looked down, a tear
fell from his eye. “But I’ve done something terrible, Kirk.
I’ve traded one atrocity for another. I thought…I thought
you were a shifter—one from the colony the Schism have
been looking for because you were just too perfect to be a
man born to a Boonta woman. Those boys always have some

Mark Alders

sort of imperfection, mainly because of the environment in
which they have grown up, being taken at birth and trained
as slaves then sold as soon as they get pubes. I…I told the
trader as much…when you slept last night, right after the
shutters closed in the alley and Ray locked up for the night. I
called him over and told him what I suspected. He went and
told the trader. If we survive our new master, even a minute,
I don’t think we’ll survive when the Schism come to kill me
now that I have served my purpose.”

Kirk remained silent while Lyndarum spoke his mind.

When the moment was right, and the truck came to a halt, he
said, “All the more reason for me to get you out of here, isn’t
it?”

“You’re not mad then?”
Kirk squeezed Lyndarum’s hands tight. “I’ve never had

shifter arse before. I like a challenge.” Sure, the words he
spoke might have sounded cocky, but the truth of the matter
was simple. Kirk did feel something for the man. What that
was, a spell or not, such a thing didn’t matter. Kirk was
curious how such a man, full of freckles, as skinny as a
Boonta beggar, and with red hair that seemed to glow, could
gain his interest in such a complete way. Such a thing was
rare and special.

Lyndarum embraced Kirk. “Then you’ll be with me…for

as long as I’m alive?”

“Longer.” Kirk ran his hand over the man’s skin.

Surprisingly, it was smooth. Seemed all those freckles didn’t
affect texture as he would have thought. Then again, when
he sucked him off, his lips had passed over his shaft without
any bother. “Now, all we have to do is think of a way to get
out of this mess before the Schism come to collect you, or my
enemy decides me being a slave is only the start of my
worries.”

“What if your enemy is also the Schism?”

Atlantica Dream

“I’m not a shifter, why would they care about me?” Kirk

almost laughed at such a suggestion.

“Then why were we put together?”
“I don’t know. Some random chance perhaps.”
“There’s no such thing as random chance.” Lyndarum

held Kirk tighter, running his hands across Kirk’s back.

Kirk liked to be held, especially by Lyndarum. “Then

why?”

“Perhaps your father’s stock is a lot more than just Boonta

bovines as you believe?”

Kirk laughed. “Are you saying my father’s cattle are

shifters?”

Lyndarum, without hesitation asked, “Where do you

live?”

“On Mjae—a moon that’s thankfully far away from the

central planets. Why?”

“Does it orbit a planet with a strong magnetic field and

asteroid belt?”

“Yes. But hang on, if my father’s cattle are shifters, how

come I don’t know about it? How come we haven’t seen
them change into human form?”

“I don’t know—maybe because you’ve been so self-

centered you haven’t noticed anything beyond the view of
your own dick or where you’re going to put it.”

“What? I don’t look at my dick. Not all the time.” But

before Kirk could ask more questions, like how the Schism
would believe their cattle stock could be shifters in the first
place, the doors to the truck opened. Bright light streamed
in, blinding them both for a moment. Kirk held his hand up
to shield his eyes. “Turn off the fucking lights, you
bastards.”

Ray stepped into the truck, connecting the grapples to the

cage which would lift it up off the now open trailer and
deliver them into their master’s cellar. “Get ready to have

Mark Alders

your arses pounded, gentlemen. Your new master is a real
animal when it comes to his slaves. He’s gone through seven
this month alone.”

Kirk felt anger rise up. All he wanted to do was protect

Lyndarum, at all costs, even if the man didn’t think highly of
him…as he found out only moments ago. Besides, he had to
know if what he had discovered was the truth. If his father
had been harboring a colony of shifters he was a better man
than he gave him credit for. In a way, Kirk felt nothing but
respect for his dad right now. A far cry from how he’d felt
about him while he lived under his roof. Had he been a fool
all his life, blinded by his wealth?

Atlantica Dream

Chapter Six

hey were stuck in a cold, dark cellar for what seemed
like hours. No water. No food. No toilet facilities. A
couple of times Kirk couldn’t hold it any longer and

pissed onto the floor, making sure the stream didn’t run
back to the cage and soak their straw lining by aiming away
from the door toward the decline in the room. Nothing
worse than having to sit naked on urine soaked bedding
material.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Kirk spat.
“We’re sold slaves now. What did you expect?”
“To at least be given some water. I’m fucking thirsty, not

to mention my hunger and how tired I am.”

Before Lyndarum could add anything more to their

conversation, something sarcastic perhaps, the cellar door
clanked open. Into the dank room, a portly gentleman
entered, whip and collars in hand. He was all lust filled
smile and then wicked grin. The smile was directed at Kirk.
The grin at Lyndarum.

Kirk had a nasty feeling about how the next few moments

would play out. The first words out of their new master’s
mouth confirmed his fears.

“Well, well, looks like I’ve bought myself something quite

handsome indeed—and something which shouldn’t be
breathing.” Kirk was about to give the man—the fat fucking
bastard—a piece of his mind, but Lyndarum must have

Mark Alders

anticipated such a thing from him. He grabbed his hand. An
action which indicted he should remain silent—for the sake
of them both, he’d wager. When the man unlocked the cage,
two other young men entered. Kirk assumed they were the
house trained slaves the man had purchased earlier and
would be their mentors or something similar. “How
interesting that you are both into each other—a promise I
saw at the auction which I didn’t believe. How is it someone
as handsome as you finds this…this damaged thing so
attractive?” The man brushed his hand over Kirk’s cheek,
one done with affection. Within a blink of an eye, he placed a
collar on Kirk, one which was electro-magnetically sealed
and forced the wearer to learn very quickly to obey his
master. A nasty electric shock the result if he didn’t. An
effective training tool.

He placed a collar onto Lyndarum as well, then said,

“These two slaves will clean you both up, feed you and
show you where you’ll sleep. You both stink of market filth,
so make sure you get scrubbed up real good. Report to my
lounge room when you’re done. I want to have my way with
you both before I take my supper.”

Kirk winced, but tried to hide his disgust. Now wasn’t the

time to be a hero. That time would come.

Suffice it to say, being cleaned in a bath was something

Kirk hadn’t experienced before, even more so considering he
was washed with Lyndarum in the same water. The two
slaves who cleaned them didn’t speak, so Kirk didn’t start a
conversation. On closer inspection, one of the slaves had
multiple whip scars on his back. The other seemed to cower
when Kirk did something sudden, like raise his hand.

When done, the two slaves left.
“I think the sooner we get out of there the better, Lyn.”
Lyndarum, now out of the water and drying himself,

came over to Kirk and embraced him. Their cocks touched,

Atlantica Dream

sending a shiver of delight through him which he wished he
could do something about. Unfortunately, they weren’t left
alone for long.

The two slaves returned, food tray in hand.
What was on the tray didn’t look too appetizing, more a

meal of necessity than enjoyment as far as Kirk could tell.
Still, food was food, and even though what was offered
wouldn’t win any awards for culinary excellence, he ate
heartily. Again, all without a word, particularly considering
the two slaves watched them both with intense interest.

Finally, once Kirk gave the whipped slave the tray back,

the man said, “You must be careful here.”

Without thought, Kirk said, “What’cha mean?”
The other slave, the one who cowered like a beaten dog at

his master’s feet, replied, “Our master does not tolerate
disobedience in any form, and even to look at him when not
invited is to incite punishment. Just look at Char, here. He
has suffered many times for all of our mistakes. That’s the
thing with our master. He does not punish the one who
committed the crime, but the one he feels deserves to be
beaten because he’s the most expendable.”

Kirk then had a dark, terrible thought. “He’s probably

going to move his punishment fetish onto Lyndarum now,
isn’t he?”

Lyndarum looked straight into Kirk’s eyes, the effect of

what was said a pained expression, and Kirk couldn’t help
but feel responsible for the man, even though they’d only
known each other a short while. Perhaps it was his beautiful
blue eyes which melted his heart. Perhaps it was his
imperfections, his flaws, which made him…wonderful,
made him worth protecting. “I don’t want to be punished for
someone else’s mistake, Kirk.”

The whipped slave, the one named Char, said, “You will

be punished whether you like it or not and for whatever

Mark Alders

reason, no matter how trivial. I’ve been whipped over
twenty times in front of all the other slaves, once because the
glass of water Matvey fetched for our master had five ice
cubes in it instead of his desired four.”

Kirk felt his anger rise up inside him again. “The fucking

prick.” In that moment, he not only wanted to save
Lyndarum, he had to get Char and Matvey out of this place
as well—heck, he had to get all of this bastard’s slaves out of
his house and to freedom. How? He wasn’t sure. One thing
at a time, and for the here and now, Kirk was only interested
in one thing. Making sure Lyndarum was safe from the whip
of their new master.

A chime sounded.
“That’s the signal that our master has entered his lounge

room. We don’t have much time to present you both to him.
By the time he’s drank his first drink, he’ll want to have you
both at his feet.”

“You mean he’ll want to fuck me until I pass out,” Kirk

corrected.

Matvey, the blond, smooth bodied, more muscular one,

nodded. “He’ll probably try you both out, but yes, from
what I’ve seen and heard so far, he certainly favors you—
um, what was your name?”

“Kirk. Kirk Skelling.”
Matvey’s eyes widened. “That name…are you Arton

Skelling’s son? But you can’t be…you’re a slave.”

Char added, “Arton is a great man…a great, great man,

and you are blessed to bear the same name as his son.”

Kirk snorted. “Yeah, if you say so.”
Lyndarum said, “Are you the Kirk Skelling, as you’ve

claimed all along?”

Kirk nodded. “The one and the same, beautiful.”
Matvey said, “Wow, how did you end up as a slave?

You’re a rich aristocrat, aren’t you?”

Atlantica Dream

Kirk once more gave a sign of revulsion “No, I ain’t’ rich,

aristocrat or otherwise. The great, great man who’s my
father is rolling in it, not me.” Kirk was laying the sarcasm
on thick, although, to tell the truth, this was the first time
he’d heard any good word being said about his father.
Somewhat bizarre how such praise had come from slaves
out here on the central planets. Kirk had certainly never
thought of his old man as being great, not at any stage. But
why he was considered as such was a mystery to him? Then
again, he had been busy drinking, taking drugs and having
sex with anything that moved for as long as he could
remember. Perhaps Lyndarum was right. Perhaps he needed
to stop looking at his dick and open his eyes to the world
around him. “I haven’t got a dime to my name—even less
now that I’m owned.”

Char said, “We must get them to our master now,

Matvey.”

“Are you two a couple?” Lyndarum asked.
Matvey smiled. “We are companions.”
“What does that mean?” Kirk questioned. Either they

were having sex or they weren’t. Why say companion?

Matvey said, “When you’ve been a slave all your life, the

chance of mating with the opposite sex to procreate is
virtually nonexistent. Instead, slaves find comfort with one
another in times of need—a slave couple who stay with each
other exclusively are known as companions. The things we
do with each other are more out of necessity than sexual
orientation, if you get my meaning.”

“I understand,” Lyndarum said.
Kirk nodded. “Yeah, being around all blokes all your

lives, no wonder you take the dick over loneliness. I know I
would.”

A second chime sounded.
Char added, “We must go now.”

Mark Alders

They were escorted to the lounge. The house was large,

but not too large considering Kirk had grown up on a
sprawling ranch home full of many rooms, including a
private ballroom. Their new master was sitting on a large
chair. He was in his underwear, his bulge giving away the
fact he had been waiting for his new acquisitions to arrive to
pleasure him.

“You know you must not make me wait, Matvey,” the

man said. “I am quite disappointed you made me ring the
bell twice for you to bring me my new acquisitions.”

Matvey bowed, “I’m so sorry, my master. It won’t happen

again.”

“Indeed it won’t.” With those words, he picked up a whip

from the side table. The man obviously prepared in more
ways than one for his new toys. “Get over here, damaged
one. I want to teach you a lesson you won’t forget for
making me wait longer than usual and for making me tell off
my favorite slave, Matvey.”

Lyndarum looked at Kirk, but was forced onto his hands

and knees by Char and Matvey. It wasn’t their fault, Kirk
assumed they had no choice but to do as their master
commanded, for fear of being punished themselves. Seemed
the man ruled his slaves with an iron fist. All Kirk could do
was watch the following events unfold, the rather disturbing
joy the man seemed to inflict on those he owned.

With his cock hard, poking out from his underwear, and a

delighted expression on his face, complete with evil grin and
maddened glint in his eyes, he began whipping the freckled
flesh on Lyndarum’s back and buttocks. Each lash of the
twisted cord that struck his back was met with an agonizing
cry of pain from Lyndarum and a chortle of laughter from
the man.

Kirk couldn’t watch any longer.
He decided, right there and then to act. He grabbed

Atlantica Dream

Matvey, whispering, “We’ve got to do something about this.
He’ll kill Lyn if he gets half the chance.”

“You care for him, even though he’s damaged, don’t

you?” Char asked.

“Of course I fucking do.” At that moment, Kirk realized

for the first time in his life, he did care for something other
than the comforts of his lifestyle, like booze and drugs, or
where he would be sticking his cock next. He blinked,
blocking out the sights and sounds before him as best he
could for a brief moment so he could think, so he could
contemplate the reasons why he found himself here and
what he was going to do about it. If he didn’t act now, force
fate to be on his side, then he wouldn’t be any better than the
man doing the whipping. In fact, he wouldn’t be any better
than what he had achieved all his life, the spoilt, useless son
of a rich man. Kirk didn’t want people to tell stories of how
he was a loser, walking in the shadow of his father. They
had already said such a thing to him, his father was a great
man. They didn’t say, Kirk was a great man.

Time for Kirk to be great.
Another cry pierced the air. This time, not from the whip

of his new master, but because the man had pierced
Lyndarum’s asshole with his thick, bulging dick. No
lubricant. No warning. Just a slam of his cock inside the man
who was blubbering on the floor, tears streaming down his
face. The man grabbed Lyndarum’s hips and pulled, an
action which pushed him in deeper and deeper. More cries
of pain rang out.

Kirk felt sick. Lyndarum’s back was bleeding from the

punishment he received, yet he was now forced to endure
rape. Slave or not, in Kirk’s eyes, that’s what it was.
Lyndarum was being raped right in front of them all.

“Well, if you two aren’t going to do anything about this, I

certainly am.”

Mark Alders

Kirk ran.
He came to a room, which for all intents and purposes,

served as a sort of kitchen. On a marble bench there was a
knife, large and glinting in the light. Without thought, Kirk
picked up the knife. He didn’t know the how or the why of
it, but it was like the blade was calling to him, begging him
to dispense the justice he knew should be dealt.

Seconds later, Kirk was back in the lounge room.

Lyndarum was still being fucked, Matvey and Char having
no option but to watch, the fear obvious in their eyes. Their
new master was reaching climax, his eyelids shut tight,
sweat beading down his forehead and his body tensing. Kirk
had a matter of moments. Without further delay, he came
over the man who was raping his man. Yes, Lyndarum was
his man. No doubt. Sure, they’d only met, but really, Kirk
believed in many things and the turn of fate was one of
them.

Perhaps he had to become a slave to find his love.

Perhaps he had to become a slave to discover himself.
Perhaps he needed to be a slave to become a man. Maybe all
three, in reality. Whatever the reasons for the way his life
had changed, he would now take matters into his own
hands.

At the exact moment their master reached climax, the

moment when the familiar cry most men released the instant
their balls tightened and their cock shot their sperm deep
into their conquered flesh left his lips, Kirk sunk the knife
deep into the man’s back.

The blade went in easier than what he would have

imagined.

The effect was instant. The man flopped onto Lyndarum,

like a ragdoll that had been thrown to the ground. No sound
came from the man’s lips other than those of his previous joy
created by his ecstasy. No movement resulted other than to

Atlantica Dream

collapse. In a way, killing someone—no, murdering
someone in such a way, was anti-climactic. The silence after
the kill was deafening.

Then, when Kirk withdrew the knife, blood dripping off it

to stain the expensive rug of the lounge room, Matvey cried
out in distress. Perhaps up until the moment where he
showed the blood-stained knife, those who stood witness
couldn’t fathom what had transpired. But instead of
showing concern for his fallen master, when he did speak,
Matvey yelled something quite unexpected. “Where’s
Lyndarum!”

Mark Alders

Chapter Seven

yndarum couldn’t stand the pain any longer, both of his
punishment and of the man’s joy in delivering it. He had
to get away. He had to save himself. The only way he

knew how to do such a thing, to give himself even a remote
chance of surviving the near future, was to shift form.
Something he could now do because he had a template.
Because he had Kirk.

In his natural state the wounds on his back would heal

and the tearing of his ass by the disgusting, thoughtless man
who owned him, wouldn’t hurt as much. In platypus form,
he would be safe. He could even defend himself, because
being a male, his poisonous barbs would protect him.

When he decided to transform, more out of need than

want, a great weight came upon him. Darkness followed. He
became suffocated and panic rose up inside him to consume
his thoughts. Was he already dead? Had the man succeeded
in killing him, his wish all along from what Lyndarum
sensed when they met. If he wasn’t dead, what had
happened?

Lyndarum had feelings. If he had been killed, surely he

wouldn’t be able to sense any more pain, different to that of
a moment ago or not. He clambered to try and find the light,
get away from the suffocation now surrounding him like
plastic film. Then it struck him. From what he could tell, his
master’s body had fallen on top of him, the odor of his sweat

Atlantica Dream

stained skin unmistakable.

He gasped, clawing his way out of his flesh prison.

Wetness and darkness consumed him in equal measure, but
at least he had changed form and was no longer burdened
by the sting of the whip.

A reverberation, like the ground was moving underneath

him, but deeper, overcame Lyndarum’s next thoughts. He
had no choice but to wait and see how events transpired.
After all, a platypus, male or not, was no match for a man
who would have easily weighed over one-hundred and fifty
kilograms. Lyndarum, it would seem, was trapped. Trapped
no matter how much he struggled. At least he discovered the
cause of the reverberation. The man, his master, had passed
away. The sound was the last breath of life escaping out of
his lips to join his soul in the afterlife.

According to his people’s beliefs, the soul was eternal, but

could only be re-born into another if the breath of the
deceased person joined it in the house of souls. When
someone passed away in his culture, their mouth was
opened so their breath could be one with their soul. Not that
Lyndarum was religious, but still, sometimes beliefs and
superstitions, borne from either religion or of not being able
to understand the world around them, turned out to be
based on a truth.

What the truth was in regards to someone’s breath being

required to cross to the house of souls—if such a place
existed—was anyone’s guess. Before Lyndarum could
contemplate such matters or delve into the deep meaning of
his culture and their customs, either to agree or not, a bright
light blinded him.

“Lyn!” A voice said, piercing the light.
Lyndarum scurried to freedom, but not before exposing

his poisonous barbs at the back of his legs just in case his
master wasn’t really dead and he needed to defend himself.

Mark Alders

He needn’t have worried, though. A gentle hand came to
pick him up. Lyndarum knew it couldn’t have been his
master, mainly because his eyes had now adjusted to the
flood of light that had struck him and he recognized both the
touch and the voice as belonging to Kirk.

“Kirk,” was all Lyndarum said in reply when he changed

back into human form. Although to say Kirk was his
grounding was harsh in a way, the man was more than that.
He had proven such a thing already. Lyndarum had to
admit, Kirk was someone he could easily fall in love with.

“Yes. It’s me, buddy. I thought I’d lost you.”
Lyndarum embraced his lovable template, his savior.

How did he know Kirk had saved him? Simple. How else
was he able to get out from under a dead man? A man who
had apparently been killed by a rather large knife, which lay
at Kirk’s feet.

Again, to come to this conclusion was an easy one. When

Lyndarum scanned the room to help him confirm what had
transpired while he was in his flesh trap, he noticed the two
other slaves, Matvey and Char, looking as though they had
seen a ghost. They simply couldn’t have acted—they were
too conditioned. No, Kirk had murdered their new master.
Perhaps to save Lyndarum from any more punishment.
Perhaps to get rid of him so Kirk could make a run for
freedom. Whatever the motivation, the result was the same
to Lyndarum. Four naked slaves now had no master.

Matvey asked, “What do we do now?”
The question wasn’t directed at anyone in particular, and

Lyndarum believed it was more about the man’s fear of not
being a slave to this particular master any longer—he was a
favorite. The question was more about who would look after
him. Someone better or someone worse? After all, he was
still a slave, and a slave, even with no master, would be seen
as something to be bought or bartered for or taken—usually

Atlantica Dream

to give more status to the one doing the acquiring.

Throughout history, slaves had been acquired in far more

brutal ways than a murder. Sometimes they were acquired
in spoils of battle. One time, in the great Trade War of
twenty years past, hundreds of masters fought each other,
using their own slaves as a sort of private army, sending
them out in space fighters…to their deaths. The winners of
such a battle were, ultimately, the slave traders, even if it
was only to provide cannon fodder for their enemy.

The war ended because stock became so low. Not one

owner had any slaves left for their own pleasure. In the case
of the Trade Wars, pleasures of the flesh soon outweighed
the pleasure of power. Boonta girls, along with improved
Genopills to help produce boys, were then given incentives
like family allowances, jewels and gold, to encourage them
to get pregnant.

“We get the fuck out of here, that’s what,” Kirk said,

knocking Lyndarum from his reverie. He couldn’t help it.
Being in Kirk’s arms, holding him tight, had that effect on
him.

“But…but we must alert the authorities we have no

master,” Char said.

“Fuck that shit! They’ll see the man has been stabbed and

then who do you think they’ll blame? Us, of course.” Kirk let
go of Lyndarum. He went over to the dead body of their
former master, examining it. “We’ve got no choice. We get
rid of our collars, get some clothes, then we run—say, do
you think he’ll have some clothes in smaller sizes for us?”

Lyndarum said to Matvey, “And property that commits

murder isn’t given a trial. They are dispensed with without
question.”

Matvey swallowed hard. He looked at Lyndarum and

Kirk in turn. “You are the real Kirk Skelling, aren’t you?”

Kirk winked. “Whatever clued you in?”

Mark Alders

“No slave conditioned from birth to serve would have

even contemplated doing what you just did.”

Kirk returned to his previous train of thought. “So…those

clothes, do you think he’s got some that’ll fit four skinny
guys like us?”

Char said, “I doubt it. Our master has always enjoyed the

finer things in life.”

“In other words he’s always been a fat bastard.” Kirk

smiled. “Now, are you two with us or not? I mean, don’t get
me wrong, but if you’re going to weigh me down, you’d
better stay here and meet your fate. Lyn and I have got some
business to finish, starting at my old man’s ranch.”

This time, Matvey’s lips formed a quiver of a smile.

“We’re with you, Kirk Skelling.”

“Yes, we’re with you,” Char added, grabbing Matvey’s

hand to hold it. For the first time since Lyndarum had seen
the two slaves, they had hope in their eyes. Hope for
tomorrow and their future under Kirk’s guidance.

When Matvey and Char had left the lounge room to go

fetch the keys to their collars and fresh clothes, Lyndarum
said, “I believe you’re a hero today, Kirk,”

Kirk rolled his eyes toward the heavens. “Great. Remind

me never to take Atlantica Dream again…ever.”

“If you hadn’t become inebriated with that recreational

drug of the rich, then you would have never met me,”
Lyndarum offered.

Kirk stood in thought for a moment, rubbing his stubbled

chin. “Hmm, I suppose you’re right. Sure, finding out why I
got here in the first place has been playing on my mind, but
then again, there have been many questions which have
remained unanswered for me about what has happened of
late.”

“Like whether or not your father is harboring a colony of

shifters, you mean?”

Atlantica Dream

Kirk nodded. “Yeah…which I do believe may have

something to do with why I was put out of the way all of a
sudden.”

“Are you saying someone wanted to get rid of you so

they could gain access to your father…and the ranch
without hindrance?”

“Perhaps.” Kirk shrugged his shoulders. He then turned

his attention to Lyndarum, his eyes bearing down, causing
Lyndarum to believe a different thought had entered his
man’s brain.

The next words out of Kirk’s mouth confirmed

Lyndarum’s suspicions. “Say, I really do have a hankering
for a good fucking right about now. How about it, Lyn? You
want to get yourself some rich boy tail or what?”

“Are you asking me to have relations with you?”
“Whatever you want to call it is fine with me, so long as I

get to taste some Lyn love juice real soon, I’m happy.”

In that moment, Lyndarum struggled between his desire

and his instincts. Making love to Kirk, a man he had used as
a template for his shifting abilities, would cement him as his
life-long partner…until death do they part. “You do realize,
if we make love right now, especially after what’s happened,
you’ll be stuck with me forever. That’s the shifter way.”

Kirk smiled. He came over to Lyndarum and planted a

kiss upon his forehead. “Haven’t you got it yet? I want
you…you’re different. If that means forever, then what the
hey? I’m willing to make a few sacrifices to be with the man
I have feelings for.”

Lyndarum was taken aback. Seemed the rich boy from the

Skelling clan wasn’t such a spoiled, self-centered brat, after
all. “Are you saying you want to be with me?”

Kirk nodded. “Yeah…that’s what I’m saying.”
“Are you also saying you have feeling for me that go

beyond lust…or looks?”

Mark Alders

Before Kirk could answer, Matvey and Char returned to

the lounge room. They had bundles of clothing in their arms.
“We found these garments,” Matvey said with pride imbued
in his voice.

“Perfect,” Kirk said, sliding his gaze away from

Lyndarum. Lyndarum couldn’t help but get the feeling
Matvey and Char had interrupted at a crucial moment.
Seemed to him they wouldn’t get an opportunity to get
physical with each other until they at least got off Ardross
Major. He imagined it wouldn’t take the authorities long to
discover there had been a murder and four slaves were
missing. No prizes for guessing what conclusion they would
jump to. Which, in a way, was the truth anyway. Sure, Kirk
had killed the man, but by running with him, Lyndarum,
Matvey and Char were as guilty. They really did have to
run.

Kirk grabbed one of the garments. It was a sort of coverall

with a hood. Perhaps something the man would have worn
over his clothes to keep him warm in cooler weather. “Is this
all there was?”

Char replied, “All that would come close to fitting us,

yes.”

Kirk frowned. “Wearing these we’ll be even more

conspicuous than if we remain naked.”

“If we remain naked, all will know we’re slaves,”

Lyndarum said.

“How?” Kirk asked. “Plenty of folk go round with

nothing but their skin on, even the rich. It’s fashionable at
the moment. That and wearing lace-look man panties, which
I draw the line at, I must say.”

“We’ve all been branded,” Char said, turning around to

show the back of his neck. On the skin below his hairline,
small as ever, there was a number tattooed. The numbers
were ones which Kirk now knew all too well. They were

Atlantica Dream

serial numbers, giving lot number, age, and reserve price at
time of auction.

“Do we all have those?” Kirk asked.
“Sadly we do.” Lyndarum said. “But we also have

ultraviolet ones tattooed onto our buttocks and ankle, just in
case slaves decide to try and elude the authorities.”

Matvey said, “The city is populated with numerous

scanners. Any slave passing through one without authority
will be instantly detected if they aren’t wearing clothing.”

Kirk sighed, “And I suppose the authorities know that no

slave can own anything, so they won’t be looking for clothed
slaves no matter how ridiculous they look wearing winter
coveralls with fur-lined hoods in the height of summer.”

“Let’s hope so,” Lyndarum said.

Mark Alders

Chapter Eight

hen all four were attired in their disguise, one which
would set them apart from the nakedness of a slave or
the culturally elite, they headed out the door.

Hopefully, they would blend in with the rest of society until
they got off Ardross Major.

The world outside was approaching dusk. Steel and glass

buildings were lit with the liquid orange glow of Ardross
Major’s relatively young star to give the city a sense of
serenity before the madness of night crept across the streets.
The three mega cities that orbited Ardross Major, the Metro
Super Ring, Ganymede Tuesday and Junction, glinted like
jewels in the sky above. The sight of them was familiar and
welcome, because Ganymede would be their port of call
once they got to one of the numerous spaceports on the
outskirts of the city.

Lyndarum hailed for a taxi when they arrived at the

closest rank.

Thankfully, Kirk had suggested they borrow some money

from their dead master to help them escape. Although,
pleased with their plan so far, Kirk itched already and he’d
only been attired for less than ten minutes. He preferred to
be naked or dressed in very little so as not to hide his
attributes. Still, if these outfits got them off the planet, then
he’d endure the small discomfort for as long as was
required.

Atlantica Dream

The taxi took them to the spaceport without incident.

Once or twice the driver eyed them carefully, using the rear
vision mirror to get a good look, but didn’t seem to be
bothered by four young men in winter coveralls and nothing
underneath but their skin.

Kirk slipped the heavy coverall up to reveal his leg a bit

more—right up to his groin—as if to emphasize the fact he
knew the driver was staring at them and perhaps it was
because he fancied a bit of cock with his evening meal when
he got home from a day of taxi work. Or perhaps because
the driver suspected they were slaves. Perhaps both.

Seemed the man didn’t take the invitation Kirk was

offering. Good thing, too. He didn’t fancy having to suck a
stranger’s dick to help get him off the planet right now. He
wanted to be with Lyndarum. That private shuttle ride up to
Ganymede Tuesday couldn’t happen soon enough in Kirk’s
mind.

“This is it,” the driver said with a half interested chime.
Lyndarum paid their fare and all four found themselves

standing at the main terminal building of Ardross Major’s
second biggest spaceport. In front of them was a huge
holoVid screen. Images of all four of them were splashed
across it with a news caption scrolling across the bottom—
Slaves murder their master in sordid sex party.

Kirk looked at Lyndarum. “I didn’t think what we did

could have been considered a party. Trust me, I’ve been to
plenty and what we did couldn’t have been further from a
party even if we had entrees.”

“What if there were a couple of grams of Atlantica Dream

thrown in? Would it have been a party then?” Matvey
questioned, finding his voice and a rather droll one at that.
Kirk liked him, had since they first met. Matvey had his
head on right. Nothing more attractive than a bloke who
knew where he was at. Char on the other hand…Kirk didn’t

Mark Alders

get that instant connection with him. Perhaps because Char
never seemed to lead a conversation. Perhaps because he
wasn’t as attractive physically, when compared to
Matvey…or even Lyndarum.

Kirk let out a laugh. “It just might have been, Matty. It’s

just might have been.”

Char asked, “What are we going to do now? We can’t get

clearance for departure with our images plastered all over
every screen in the known universe, can we?”

As if to emphasize Char’s concern, the news caption

changed. Kill these slaves on sight to receive one-thousand credit

redemption per skin. Redemption via Trader’s Guild and can be

used to purchase new Trader endorsed slaves to add to your house
stock.

“Char’s right, especially seeing as they’re offering our

dead bodies in return for more slaves for masters to do as
they please with,” Lyndarum said.

Kirk frowned. Right now, being stuck as a slave didn’t

seem to be a great idea. “Lyn, shift into platypus form. I’ll
carry you through customs like a pet. Perhaps I can get
through any security checks because my image isn’t that of a
slave but of Kirk Skelling. Hopefully, and with a good dose
of luck on our side, we have some dull lads in charge of
customs right now and they won’t put two and two
together.”

“What about Char and I?” Matvey asked, holding his

partner’s hand.

“You guys get out of the city and over to the old Trader’s

station out in the desert. The one where the old slave
markets used to be before Mattock was opened. Don’t ask
for directions, just follow the old 1044 highway heading west
and you can’t miss it. Get there however you can. Heck, give
an old desperate bloke a blow job he won’t forget so you can
borrow his keys, I don’t care. Just get there, but do it so
you’re not spotted and don’t arouse any suspicion. Don’t

Atlantica Dream

speed. Don’t even drive under the limit—that’s just as much
a red light to the authorities as anything. Means you’re
probably moving illegal slave stock and you don’t want to
damage them when you go over a pothole. We’ll pick you
up in four hours.” Kirk smiled when he was done. If they
were smart and used their talents as trained pleasure givers,
then maybe, just maybe, they would be there waiting for
them when Kirk landed the shuttle he’d acquire in about an
hour’s time…or less. Hopefully.

“What if we’re not there?” Char added, his question

perfectly reasonable considering the circumstances.

“We leave without you. Now get going.” Kirk moved so

he could shepherd Lyndarum into a quiet corner of the
terminal entrance, one where baggage trolleys were stored
for those who cared to use them because they couldn’t afford
slaves to carry their belongings.

Before he told Lyndarum to shift form, an action which

would put his plan into effect, he craned his neck to make
sure Matvey and Char had high-tailed it away from the
public’s prying eyes. All they needed right now was an
observant citizen matching a holoVid image to a real life
person. Kirk found pleasure they had at least listened to him
when he couldn’t see them. He hoped they would soon be in
someone’s bed wooing the man out of his belongings.

By the time Kirk returned his attention to Lyndarum, the

man was already a platypus. He picked him up with care.
Now, the second part of his plan was ready. Although, for
the life of him he needed to ditch the coveralls—they were
all the evidence someone would need to connect the dots,
especially considering their images wore them.

Kirk looked around.
By a side shop, one which sold curios for the traveler

coming to Ardross Major for the first time, a woman stood.
She had by her side two travel bags. The look on her face

Mark Alders

gave Kirk the impression she was expecting someone.

He went to her.
“Can I help you?” she said with disinterest, not looking at

Kirk in any meaningful way other than to scan him for signs
he was someone she recognized.

Kirk decided to swallow his pride. He said, “My master

has departed his private jet but I can’t seem to locate
terminal sixteen. I’m going to get punished for sure, I know
it. Please, do you know where that is?”

She looked at Kirk again. “Oh, a fine young man like you

shouldn’t be punished, slave or not. Say, why don’t I get my
driver to take you there?”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you so much.”
“What is that you’re carrying?”
“It’s my master’s prized platypus. It wins all the awards,

you know, and if I don’t get it to him as soon as he steps out
of his private jet, I’m going to have to sleep out in the barn
with all his other furry possessions.”

She eyed him up and down. “I thought you said that your

master had already departed?”

Kirk felt his throat dry and his tongue stick to the roof of

his mouth. That was the trouble with lying, you have to
remember what you’ve said, even in a short conversation.
He smiled. “You got me. I’m not a slave at all. I’m Kirk
Skelling, to tell you the truth, and I’ve been partying all
night and I seemed to have lost my way. Woke up here on
Ardross, and boy, this platypus saved my skin, let me tell
you.”

She smiled in return. “I knew you weren’t a slave. Your

skin is too perfect to be owned. Now, you must tell me of
your adventures, my man. I’m sure they’re filled with all
sorts of excitement.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe, ma’am, trust me. But do

you think you can lend me some clothes? All my friends left

Atlantica Dream

me was this coverall as some sort of cruel joke to remind me
of my intoxication.”

“If I do give you more appropriate attire, will you tell me

your story then?”

“Sure thing.”
She reached down to pick up a travel bag. Seconds later,

she retrieved a beautiful pair of translucent silk shorts.
“These belong to my son, Brake, and I think they’ll fit you
perfectly, Mr. Skelling.”

Kirk eyed the flimsy garment she held with increasing

interest between her thumb and forefinger. What choice did
he have? He couldn’t go through customs wearing a winter
coat. That would make matching his wanted notice too easy,
even for a disinterested customs officer on the late shift.

Right there and then, Kirk placed Lyndarum on the floor

and disrobed. The lady’s eyes lit up when she feasted on his
nakedness. Kirk didn’t care about showing his dick in public
or even for a private show for that matter. He always
waggled his cock around to entertain friends, strangers or
prospective fucks. What he did care about was the woman
catching a glimpse of his slave tattoo at the back of his neck
now that his collar restraint was gone.

She handed him the shorts and Kirk slipped them on.

They did nothing to hide his bulge and really, shaving his
pubic hair and scrotum to baby bottom smoothness would
have been desirable with such a garment. As it was, he had
to take the good with the bad. What were a few black hairs
poking out from under silken cloth to look like crushed
spiders when it came to being a fugitive?

“That’s certainly better than that coverall, I must say.”
Kirk picked up Lyndarum again and tucked him under

his armpit. “Thank you.”

“Oh, you do know that you’ve got a slave tattoo, don’t

you?”

Mark Alders

Kirk’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah, another gift from my

over enthusiastic friends,” he offered with a half-hearted
laugh.

She reached into her bag once more, pulling out a

compact. “Here. Let me rub this on. It’s an opaque skin
matching foundation and it’ll last until you get off this
planet anyway.”

Kirk didn’t know what to say. Seemed the woman, even

though showing disinterest at first, seemed to be well aware
of all around her. “Did you want to come with me…so I can
tell you my story, of course.”

She let out a giggle. “Oh, please, I’m old enough to be

your mother, as flattered as I am by your proposal.” She
finished applying the make-up, and patted Kirk on his
backside. “Now, smooth talker, get out of here and take your
shifter symbiote with you.”

“How…how did you—”
She winked. “Your image has been displayed all over the

holoVids for the last hour, and I saw you arrive with your
handsome friends while standing here waiting for my absent
minded son to get our car back from the valet parking
automaton. Sometimes I wish I had two sons, at least then I
know things would get done.” She winked. Kirk thought
that strange. Was she trying to tell him something? Before he
could contemplate such things any further, she gestured for
Kirk to get going. “Besides, I know you’re Kirk Skelling and
not a slave and when you sort out what’s happened to you, I
want to know every juicy detail, you hear me?” She handed
Kirk her business card. On it were the words, Freedom Party
and a holoVid number.

Kirk didn’t know what to say. She was one of those

political agents who fought for equality for all, Boonta girls,
the slaves, the workers, and the rich alike. She was an
activist, if Kirk was to describe her. No wonder she didn’t

Atlantica Dream

have a slave to carry her bags or fetch her car. She didn’t
believe in them.

He left her.
More than once he examined the card as he made his way

to the customs checkpoint. Thankfully, he had remembered
to retrieve their former master’s wallet from the coverall so
he could pay for passage on a shuttle to Ganymede Tuesday.
Although the only place he could put the thing was down
the front of his newly acquired body contour and see-though
shorts. Many folks stared at him as he strutted past, oozing
confidence which came naturally to him. They either stared
at him because of his bulge, or because he was carrying a
platypus. He supposed, even though spaceports saw many
weird things, a well built man in his early twenties and
wearing man panty-come-shorts while holding a small furry
Ornithorhynchus anatinus would gain at least some attention.

The first checkpoint was a breeze.
Kirk bought a ticket for a shuttle ride without fuss. He

even had plenty of time to sip on a drink in the viewing
lounge. He imagined Lyndarum would be getting impatient
with his shenanigans, though. Many times he scratched at
Kirk’s leg, as if to emphasize his thoughts.

“All right. All right. I get the message, Lyn. We’re

leaving.” Kirk couldn’t blame Lyndarum, really. The sooner
they got off Ardross Major the better. Besides, they had to
convince the shuttle pilot to make a stopover at the old slave
markets to pick up extra passengers.

At the shuttle’s entrance, the pilot came into view. He was

a weedy man, all leers and long teeth which looked
misplaced in his mouth. He grabbed the rail which would
have helped passengers board in zero-g. With a gasp, he
muttered, “Help me.” With that, he stumbled and fell onto
the deck, a gasp of air telling Kirk in no uncertain terms the
man was dead.

Mark Alders

From behind the pilot and out of the shadows, a large

man stood on the gangway. He was someone Kirk knew.
Dodger, the meat fisted fuckwit who got Kirk into this mess
in the first place. “Well, fucking well, look what we have
here,” Dodger said. “If it isn’t our little rich boy Kirk, the
man I’m going to crush like a bug right now because he’s too
stupid to realize he’s been given a lifeline so he keeps his
fucking nose out of my business.”

“You mean this was all a set up, you dirty prick?” Kirk

uttered, anger welling up inside him. Seemed Dodger had
indeed wanted to get Kirk out of the way. Maybe there was
truth in what Lyndarum had said, after all. His father was
harboring a shifter colony and the colony had been
discovered. Why else would someone go to so much trouble
getting Kirk out of the way? After all, a colony would
interest the Schism, and the Schism would do anything,
including hiring human mercenaries like Dodger, to get to
them.

All the pieces fit together now.
Seemed Dodger was influenced by the Schism, either

through their promise of money or power, or both, to rat his
dad out, perhaps even using Wiks in his plan to distract Kirk
at his birthday party. Which made Kirk think of one thing
and one thing only—the safety of his old man. Strange that
he would do such a thing right now. He’d never thought of
his father in any way other than as a supply line to his
lifestyle. Right now Kirk was concerned for his father. Very
strange.

“You got it, princess.” Again, Dodger’s fist came toward

Kirk.

This time, Dodger didn’t count on one thing. The

protective platypus shifter Kirk was clutching in his arms.
Everything happened at once. Kirk dodged the punch, and
the scene became a kaleidoscope of flailing arms, shouts,

Atlantica Dream

swearing, and frantic grabs to get the animal off him. One
thing was certain after the kerfuffle, Dodger wouldn’t be
able to see his dick in too much of a hurry. Lyndarum had
clawed at his eyes after he attached himself to the man’s
face, the cause of all the commotion. He’d also dug his
poisonous barbs into the man’s cheeks. Didn’t take too long
for the poison to work, either.

Dodger fell to the floor like a wet sack of shit.

Mark Alders

Chapter Nine

yndarum shifted back into human form once Kirk flew
the shuttle beyond the city limits. Their goal, the old
slave markets in the desert to pick up Matvey and Char,

as promised.

The man who had killed the pilot, the one Kirk referred to

as Dodger—and boyfriend to one of Kirk’s past infatuations,
as he told Lyndarum—was somehow linked to Kirk’s
sudden appearance at the Mattock Markets. Suffice it to say,
once more information was pumped from this Dodger
fellow, because Lyndarum only gave him a small dose of
poison so they could question him, he was rolled off the
gang plank and left on the tarmac to rot before the shuttle
took off. The man was most uncooperative…and rude. No
better justice could have occurred, in Lyndarum’s eyes.

Lyndarum watched Kirk with intense interest as the man

piloted the shuttle with expert precision. Perhaps being rich
meant one could learn how to operate things, because they
had both the resources and the time, which was quite
contrary to what Lyndarum would have thought. Normally
rich folk got others to do such things for them. That’s why
the slave trade roared. Rich folk preferred the control of
flesh over the control of anything.

He moved closer to Kirk.
Lyndarum hovered his hand within a hair’s length of

Kirk’s slender yet toned shoulders. He wanted to touch him

Atlantica Dream

in more ways than he could count. He wanted them to be
entwined in the way only lovers could be, as Kirk had
suggested not that long ago. He wanted to roll his foreskin
over Kirk’s bulging head so their most intimate parts could
be joined in a gesture of acceptance, like all males of his clan
did when they were more than friends.

With a lick of his lips, Lyndarum was about to

compliment his template—no, his man on how wonderful he
looked in his borrowed silk shorts, when Kirk said something
that stopped him dead in his tracks. Words that made him
cease the urge to massage those commanding shoulders as a
precursor to even better things.

“None of this adds up, Lyn.”
Lyndarum withdrew his hand. “What do you mean?

Aside from the fact you’ve now discovered your father has
been harboring a colony of shifters and everyone you
thought you knew has been bought by the Schism so that
same colony can be eradicated.”

Kirk pressed a few buttons on the cockpit’s instrument

panel. The shuttle came down closer to the desert ground,
skimming the surface. Dust swirled and sand that hadn’t
moved for eons gave way to pulsating thrusters. A building,
dark against the golden sands and dilapidated beyond
repair, loomed ahead. Two figures could also be seen, hand
in hand. Lyndarum smiled. At least Matvey and Char were
safe.

“Yeah, Lyn, there’s all that of course, but what I’m talking

about is how everything seems to be fitting into place a little
bit too nicely for my liking. Why was Dodger at my party
the other night? He wasn’t invited—heck, neither was Wiks
for that matter. I wanted some fresh action, not old flames.
Why do you think I spent a small fortune on a couple of
grams of Atlantica Dream? Certainly not to suck on cocks I’d
already had, that’s for sure.” Kirk paused, seemingly in

Mark Alders

thought. Again he pressed more buttons. The shuttle
accelerated. “Actually, now that I think about it, how come
that woman, the one from the freedom party, so happened to
be waiting for us right after our wanted notices flashed up
on the city’s holoVids?” Again, another pause. “And don’t
get me started on the coincidence of Dodger knowing what
shuttle we had hired and him being there at the right time to
surprise us. All seems too convenient, if you ask me.”

Lyndarum also thought deep and hard about recent

events. But before he could say that perhaps these chains of
events had all been happy chances, the instrument panel lit
up with warning lights.

Through Kirk’s “Holy fuck!” and the loud incessant

noises the shuttle made, Lyndarum caught a glimpse of the
air ahead of them being ripped open. A dark crack, like
negative lightning, stained the sky, as if the atmosphere
itself had been wounded. From the tear in the sky, a Schism
vehicle emerged, all black and foreboding with harsh angles,
smoke and menace. The thing was massive, at least the size
of the building they were approaching, if not more.

Kirk frantically pressed panels and numerous buttons to

maneuver the shuttle to get out of the path of the Schism
which had materialized in front of them. Lyndarum was
forced to hold to the back of the pilot’s chair for dear life as
their little shuttle veered to the left with enough force to
make the engines groan in complaint. Kirk was magnificent.
One, he avoided a collision. Two, he managed to get around
the Schism vehicle and get closer to where Matvey and Char
were standing. Actually, scratch that. Matvey and Char were
running toward them. A few Schism had landed, the marks
bleeding through space from their dark matter universe as
they appeared, an all too familiar sight for Lyndarum.

More swearing coursed from Kirk’s lips, but even

Lyndarum couldn’t see how he was going to pick up their

Atlantica Dream

two friends, avoid the Schism and do it all at speed and with
agility. To Lyndarum the situation was desperate, especially
considering the Schism vehicle was in hot pursuit, its gun
turrets firing angry bolts of dark matter at them which tore
the sky and sizzled anything they touched—air, sand and
rock alike. The old slave trading building was wiped from
existence in a matter of moments. Gone, like it had never
existed.

“Fuck indeed,” Lyndarum added, again thrown around

while Kirk asked the shuttle’s engines to do the
unfamiliar…and the impossible. He had turned the shuttle
one-hundred and eighty degrees so that they were now
flying backwards. All this had been done while Kirk
maintained their speed.

The unfortunate thing about their new flying position was

the terrifying fact they got an up close and personal view of
the Schism vehicle behind them. The thing filled their view
screen and more.

“Now this is where things get tricky,” Kirk yelled, along

with more choice swear words.

Lyndarum didn’t doubt Kirk’s words. Not only were they

flying backwards, trying to avoid beings from another
universe, ones who could bend the laws of physics to their
will, creating havoc in mind baffling ways, they still had to
pick up Matvey and Char.

The moment Kirk pressed the shuttle bay door opening

button, Lyndarum came to realize the full impact of Kirk’s
plan. One which he hoped wouldn’t come to fruition, if only
because he didn’t fancy wiping Matvey and Char off the
shuttle’s cargo bay back wall. “Are you mad?” he said with a
gasp.

“Hang on!”
Lyndarum did as he was told. He didn’t just grab the

pilot’s chair to keep him upright, he bear hugged it. That

Mark Alders

instant, Kirk took off the inertial dampeners and killed all
engines, mid-flight. The result was instant and terrifying.
Not only did the shuttle came to a dead stop, dropping to
the desert ground like a stone, but Lyndarum’s stomach
wanted to occupy the same space as his brain. He felt sick as
a result.

Thankfully, they were flying a few inches from the sand.

Otherwise, a fall from any other height would have
shattered the shuttle like glass on concrete. Another benefit
of Kirk’s crazy maneuver was the Schism vehicle whizzing
past like a dark phantom, their pilot not yet aware of what
had happened, or not yet able to compensate for the sudden
change in their prey’s path. Which meant one thing. They
only had seconds to pick up Matvey and Char and get the
fuck out of there, if not less.

Lyndarum raced to the shuttle’s cargo bay once he had

regained his senses.

The sight which befell him was awesome. Matvey and

Char, although looking shaken, were on board. Kirk must
have stopped the shuttle within inches of their feet, because
the dust and heat off the desert clung to the cargo bay like a
poignant reminder of how close things were. Lyndarum
slammed the door close button, and not too soon, either. The
view outside the back door darkened as a shadow fell over
them. Seemed the Schism had realized Kirk’s ploy.

They were above them.
“We’ve gotta fucking go, and now!” Kirk screamed.

“Brace yourselves!”

Before Lyndarum could answer, even to agree or to react,

Kirk re-started the engines and accelerated. Unfortunately,
inertial dampeners take time to kick in. The sudden
acceleration meant one thing. Lyndarum, Matvey and Char
became a tangle of limbs at the back of the cargo bay, flat on
their backs and cursing, elbows and knees in unwelcome

Atlantica Dream

places. One thing Lyndarum appreciated was the fact the
cargo bay door was as quick as Kirk, otherwise they’d be
kissing sand right about then.

A few moments later, normality returned and Lyndarum

could get to his feet. No longer did the effects of extreme
acceleration affect his body. He helped his friends get up.
“Are you all right?” he asked to no one in particular.

Matvey offered a weary nod. “I think so. Although I don’t

know what’s scarier, the Schism or how the hell we got on
this shuttle.”

Lyndarum said, “How you got on the shuttle was a stroke

of genius, I must say.”

“This ain’t over yet,” Kirk called. “I think you all need to

get in here to the cockpit, guys. I’ve got some more fancy
flying to do yet before we can shake these Schism bastards.”

Sure enough, fancy flying wasn’t the half of it.
Kirk dived and weaved the shuttle around the millions

upon millions of orbiting flotsam and jetsam that indicated
Ardross Major was a technological world. Satellites old and
new, transmitters, defense stations, space stations, and of
course, the three major ring cities, Metro Super, Ganymede
Tuesday and Junction, along with all the paraphernalia that
went with them, crowded the space between the atmosphere
and freedom.

“Almost there,” Kirk said. Ganymede Tuesday loomed like

a metallic specter, haunting and brilliant against the eternal
black backdrop of the universe beyond.

Kirk had already gained clearance to land when

Lyndarum noticed for the first time the Schism no longer
followed them. “Where did the Schism go?”

“They gave up as soon as we passed the secondary

defense satellites,” Kirk replied, pressing buttons and
readying the shuttle for landing.

“Or they’ll be waiting for us when we leave, like a spider

Mark Alders

waiting patiently in its web, you mean,” Matvey said.

Lyndarum didn’t reply. He knew the Schism. He knew

Matvey spoke the truth. They never gave up in their hunt of
the shifters. Their one advantage was patience. Whether
today or tomorrow, they would return.

For the here and now, Lyndarum felt a sense of relief.

Seemed they would live another day. He placed his hands
on Kirk’s strong shoulders. No words needed to be said
between them. Lyndarum wanted Kirk, even more so
watching him pilot a shuttle unlike anyone he’d ever seen
before. In Lyndarum’s eyes, his template was now more
than that. Kirk was his protector, as well.

Char said, “I think we should all get some rest before we

leave. Although getting around Ganymede Tuesday without
being noticed as fugitive slaves will be just as difficult as if
we were back on Ardross Major.”

Kirk turned to look at them. Sweat was beading down his

forehead. Seemed his flying had been a bit stressful for him.
“Well, after I’ve fulfilled a promise to Lyn, I have a plan.”

“You do?” Lyndarum questioned.
“Yeah. I plan to take you three right up to the authorities

and get away from this planet without so much as a
scratch.”

“How are you going to achieve such a thing?” Char

asked.

“Easy, Char, my buddy, I’m going to see a couple of old

acquaintances, and then, when I’m back to officially being
me, I’ll buy you all at a bargain price. Fugitives or not, slaves
need to be owned, and if I promise the Trader’s Guild you’ll
all be punished for killing your former master, they’ll
practically give you three to me. After all, who would want
to own murdering slaves, hmm?”

“That’s brilliant,” Lyndarum said.
Kirk smiled, running his hand over Lyndarum’s. His

Atlantica Dream

touch was electric, sensual and wanted. “You sure are going
the right way for a good hard fucking, Lyn.”

Lyndarum smiled. “That was my plan all along.”

Mark Alders

Chapter Ten

irk went to his family lawyer on Ganymede Tuesday first
of all. The man, instantly horrified by what had
happened to him, cleared all digital records of him

ever being a slave. Matters sure were helped by Kirk’s
master, the one who’d paid a small fortune for him, being
six-foot under.

The next port of call was a tattoo removalist. Kirk, now

restored as a member of his family, had access to his
accounts. He paid for Lyndarum, Matvey and Char’s tattoos
to be removed as well. After that, he paid for them to be
clothed, and once he had finalized their sale to him, happily
handed over the money for their freedom at the Trader’s
Guild.

They were now citizens.
As such, anything they did while they were property,

including murder, was wiped from any record. They were
free in every sense of the word, yet, in a move which baffled
Kirk, decided to stay with him.

“You’re wonderful, you know that,” Lyndarum said,

twirling in front of a mirror, admiring his new satin-like see-
through suit with electric blue glitter and adornments.
Matvey and Char were trying on various outfits, as well,
including garments which helped enhance their genitals, like
Kirk’s borrowed shorts.

“I’m nothing but a spoiled brat of a rich man, remember

Atlantica Dream

that, Lyn,” Kirk said, settling into the boutique’s easy chair.
He was admiring Lyndarum’s buttocks in the new outfit
he’d paid for, then thought about removing it…slowly.

Having said those words made Kirk take stock of his life

so far. To be honest, other than lusting after anything that
moved, and only learning something—like pilot lessons—if
it would impress his latest interest, he’d achieved more in
the past couple of days as a nobody, done more to tell the
truth, than at any other time in his life. Seemed taking a few
grams of Atlantica Dream in this case had been a good thing.
He wouldn’t have met Lyndarum or even the two men he
considered friends, Matvey and Char.

“You’re a lot more than that, Kirk. You’re my grounding,

my template.” Lyndarum ran his hands over the cloth which
covered his freckled skin, again admiring what had been
bought for him.

Kirk was taken aback for a moment. Did Lyndarum’s

influence make him do things he would have never
considered? Still, influence or not, Lyndarum hadn’t
punched him in the face to the point of unconsciousness
then sold him to a slave trader who sided with the Schism,
had he? “You didn’t know me last week. You wouldn’t have
been so generous with your words if you had.”

Lyndarum sat on Kirk’s knee and embraced his man.

“Last week you were a boy lost in the woods. Now, because
of fate, you have become a man. A man who stands proud
and tall on the mountain.”

Again Kirk was surprised…yet not so. “Are you saying

that because of what has happened to me recently I’ve
realized I’ve wasted my life up until this point?”

Lyndarum smiled. “You know that’s what I’m saying. I

can see it in your eyes. You’ve become something more,
something better. Someone your father can be proud of.
Someone you can be proud of. Now, take me away from here

Mark Alders

and make love to me, my dear sweet Kirk, and I will prove
to you how much you have matured.”

Kirk felt his groin stir. Emotions rose up inside him he’d

never thought he’d experience as his blood engorged his
cock more and more. Not only was there lust, but something
deeper. Something more than want and satisfaction and
pleasure combined. He didn’t desire Lyndarum, he needed
him. Through all the lovers he had acquired over the years,
Wiks included, Kirk had never been so smitten, so taken
with another that to breathe was a labor when Lyndarum
wasn’t near. All he thought of was Lyndarum, and influence
or not, he was one of the most beautiful beings he had set his
gaze upon. To be with him always would have him shouting
in victory from that mountain Lyndarum had told him about
only a few short moments ago.

He had hired a room at one of the hotels near the largest

spaceports on Ganymede Tuesday while they secured a ship to
get away from Ardross Major, but never did he imagine he’d
be utilizing its facilities so soon, especially considering the
four of them had been enjoying their freedom in many other
ways, buying clothes one of those pleasures.

Matvey and Char were left at the boutiques, Kirk’s

account details theirs to enjoy. This too was something Kirk
would have never imagined doing only a few short days
earlier. Thinking about this confirmed what Lyndarum had
told him, and what he already suspected

–

Kirk was now a

different man. For better or worse, such a thing was yet to be
determined. He had a long way to go before he could
consider himself half the man his father was. Strange he
thought like that. How things had changed. Maybe
Lyndarum was right. Maybe Kirk was now a man, taking on
responsibility all a part of that change.

Lyndarum lay on the bed, the sight knocking Kirk from

his reverie. His lover’s breathing was heavy, his smile the

Atlantica Dream

most enticing Kirk had ever seen on anyone.

Without hesitation, Kirk shuffled up to be above his man,

running his hands all over his body, exploring him. For the
first time in a long time, he didn’t want to take a man’s cock
into his mouth and enjoy the sensations of his hardness
sliding past his lips. He wanted to make love.

“May I?” Kirk asked. After Kirk had turned Lyndarum so

he was on his hands and knees and rimmed his sweet hole
until his man was begging to be penetrated, he applied
lubricant in all the right places, not wasting any time. He
was now at Lyndarum’s hole with his fingers, preparing
him. More groans of delight. More gasps of air from
quivering lips, most from Lyndarum.

Lyndarum groaned louder, opening his legs wider. “Yes.”
Without hesitation, Kirk came so he was in position to

penetrate his lover. But instead of just a wham bam thank you
sir kind of thing, Kirk wanted to savor every moment, feel
every touch, enjoy every breath Lyndarum exhaled, and feel
every inch of his heated skin.

He came over his man, moving him back so he was lying

on the bed once more. He lavished hot, passionate kisses all
over his man’s neck, face and lips. More moans, this time
accompanied by wriggles of ecstasy as Lyndarum enjoyed
what Kirk was doing to him.

Kirk pushed his hardness into his lover.
Lyndarum jumped and Kirk soothed him, whispering

sweet words of encouragement into his ear. The time wasn’t
long before Lyndarum relaxed again, getting into the spirit
of the moment, letting Kirk take control, dominate him.

For ages, they danced the dance of love all over the bed

covers, not caring where the pillows landed. Limbs
entwined, embracing each other tight. They kept on with
their kissing, something which spurred Kirk on even more,
because Lyndarum knew how to kiss. Not too much tongue

Mark Alders

to gag, but enough to enjoy the sensation and the tastes his
lover gave him.

With Lyndarum’s hard cock pressed against his stomach,

Kirk gained more and more rhythm. To be inside another
man, to have him writhe with pleasure by his actions,
nothing could be better. This was real, not a drug created
fantasy.

Kirk soon felt the pangs of ecstasy rise up to consume

him. Still, he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Wild Boonta cattle
couldn’t drag him away from this moment. The moment
when he was one with his lover. The moment when nothing
mattered in the universe except completion by another.
Lyndarum was such a man.

With more passionate kisses, dizzy spells and an

overwhelming sense of wanting to be like this forever and
ever, Kirk moved himself so he could get deeper inside his
man.

Again, Lyndarum moaned. Again, he opened his legs

wide, holding himself below his knees to make sure he was
as receptive as possible so Kirk could have all of him and as
much of him as he wanted. No man had ever done such a
thing with Kirk before.

With even more kisses, the heat of their skin on skin

contact making Kirk sweat, a sheen covering him while he
made love, he finally blew his load. Every muscle in his
body now concentrated on one goal, to give his lover all he
could give. When he had done so, almost collapsing onto
Lyndarum, his body weak for the effort, he held Lyndarum
tight, pulling him up so he could embrace him proper,
breath the same air as he breathed.

Without any words, without anything other than their

continued touch, Lyndarum ejaculated, warming Kirk’s
stomach with his fluid. Such a thing made Kirk take stock of
all the other times he had been with others. He had to say,

Atlantica Dream

this was the most special, and all done without drugs,
alcohol or the promise of money.

Lyndarum let him make love to him simply because he

wanted Kirk to be his lover. Nothing more. Nothing less. In
Kirk’s mind, that was amazing. Actually, it was beyond
amazing. Lyndarum, he had to admit, was perfect. His
perfect man.

Kirk sat up, the effects of his ecstasy still coursing though

his body. From now on, he knew in his heart of hearts he
didn’t need Atlantica Dream anymore. Lyndarum had done
something the drug could never do. Lyndarum completed
him. Made him feel needed.

A chime rang out.
Lyndarum got up off the bed, his cock jiggling with his

movement. To watch his lover’s firm buttocks while he
walked to the door to answer it was another joy he would
have never believed would give him pleasure. Most times
when he had fucked someone, he rolled over and went to
sleep, not caring if they stayed or left. Not so with
Lyndarum.

“Who’s there?” Kirk called.
“Someone who says you’ll know him,” Lyndarum

replied.

Kirk sighed deep, scooting off the bed. The person who

stood in the doorway was a man he thought he’d never see
the likes of, not after what had transpired lately, at any rate.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Wiks? You’ve got

some nerve.”

Wiks, without offering a smile or form of greeting other

than a sly look, said, “I see you’re still up to your old tricks,
Kirk.” He shifted his gaze over to Lyndarum, then back
again. “Although, damn, you’ve lowered your standards.”

Kirk saw red. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t

slam this door in your face, your backstabbing bastard…or

Mark Alders

better yet, why I shouldn’t beat the shit out of you where
you stand.”

“Because I know you won’t until you’ve heard what I

have to say.”

Kirk grabbed the door handle. “I’m not the same Kirk I

was when I was busy fucking your ass behind your
boyfriend’s back.” And with that, Kirk slammed the door
shut. He turned to Lyndarum and said, “You know, I think
we’ve got something to do before we head off to Mjae.”

Lyndarum looked shocked. “Aren’t you going to hear

him out?”

“Let him stew for a moment. He’s not going anywhere

until he tells me what it is he came here to tell me. I know
him too well. He’s too much of a self-important prick to
leave without being heard.”

“I see.” Lyndarum looked at the door. “So what’s this

thing we’ve got to do before we go to your home on Mjae?”

“I’m going to buy me a slave trader ship, and with it

we’re going to gather as many shifters as we can, including
your colony, Lyn. Then, when we’ve got all we can hold,
we’ll go to Mjae. You said it yourself, my home moon has a
magnetic field which repels the dark matter creations of the
Schism. What better place to find sanctuary for shifters? My
old man knew that, that’s why he harbored a colony there.
Time I followed in his footsteps and became someone more
than a drug sniffing, self-absorbed rich kid who only cares
about himself.”

Lyndarum grabbed Kirk’s hand, holding it tight. Again,

shivers of delight radiated up through Kirk from the touch.
Again, he felt the need for Lyndarum rise up inside him
with his growing interest. “Shall I open the door now?”

“Sure. Let the bastard see how much I care for you.”
Kirk put on his cheesiest smile as Lyndarum opened the

door. The sight which would confront his ex-lover would be

Atlantica Dream

his perfect white teeth and an erection that could gag even
the most enthusiastic. Perfect, as far as Kirk was concerned.

The reaction by Wiks was as Kirk predicted. The man was

stunned…and jealous. The look in his eyes a clear indication
of that. “You’ve changed, Kirk,” the man stammered.

“Now you’re getting it.” Kirk led Lyndarum back into the

room. Both sat on the nearest sofa, still hand in hand. Kirk
ran his touch along his lover’s skin. “So hurry up and get it
off your chest, Wiks. I’m busy here.”

Wiks stepped beyond the door’s threshold, entering the

room proper. “I came to warn you about Dodger.”

“Yeah, I’ve already bumped into your dickhead of a

boyfriend, thanks. A bit late for a warning, isn’t it?”

Wiks looked around the room. “I’m not talking about

that.”

“Then spit it out.” Kirk’s patience was wearing thin,

especially considering his touch down Lyndarum’s stomach
had reignited his interest as well. Lyndarum, foreskin
retracted to reveal his perfectly shaped head, was as hard as
ever and ripe for the sucking.

“The Schism…they know about your father’s shifter

colony. They know about everything, and Dodger, he got
paid some heavy credits for getting you into the slave
markets to get you out of the way while he collected on his
promise. The man’s gone mad, Kirk. He’s obsessed with
shifters, just the way the Schism are.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know, Wiks. You’re

boring me to tears and I’ve got more important matters to
deal with right now.”

Wiks swallowed hard. “You’re just too pretty, Kirk. Too

pretty…to be wasted. If it wasn’t for me bending Dodger’s
ear, you wouldn’t have been sold to that slave trader at all.
You would have met the same fate as your father.”

Kirk’s stomach turned and the erection he had gained

Mark Alders

deflated within a matter of moments. “What the fuck did
you say?”

A tear fell onto Wiks’ cheek. “Everyone has their price,

Kirk. What I’m saying is that Dodger….Dodger murdered
your father, and right now, as we speak, he’s rounding up
the shifters your old man had protected for so long.
He’ll…he’ll transport them off the moon, take them out of
the protective magnetic umbrella and from there…they’ll be
destroyed by the waiting Schism armada in orbit around
Mjae. Dodger is going to be a very rich man.”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Kirk said through

his teeth. He stood up, going to Wiks to grab the scruff of his
collar. “And you…my friend…you are going to help me
make this right because even though I will never get to tell
my father how much I misjudged him, how much of a brat
I’ve been while all along he’d been risking everything to
save a species who were threatened with extinction, I will be
able to carry on in his absence, to try to be half the man he
was.” Kirk felt his emotions begin to affect his words, his
voice hoarse. He didn’t have time right now to mourn for a
man he never knew, but learnt of his greatness because for a
day he became someone other than Kirk Skelling. He
became a nobody—actually, lower than a nobody. He
became a slave.

Wiks nodded, fear, respect, and admiration emblazoned

in his wide-eyed stare, one which never lost focus on Kirk.
“I’m a dead man anyway. I’ve got nothing left but to help
you, Kirk.”

Lyndarum asked, “Why are you a dead man? The Schism

reward all those who help them, directly or indirectly.”

Again Wiks swallowed hard. “Because I betrayed them,

that’s why.”

“How?” Kirk barked. He was trying to come to terms

with all that had been said. Sure, it would take him a long

Atlantica Dream

time to get his mind around the fact he wouldn’t see his
father again, but even so, he was now the head of the
Skelling clan. Seemed whether or not he was responsible, it
had been thrust upon him. Thankfully, he had now gained
some experience, all thanks to Lyndarum.

“I sabotaged a slave trader’s cargo ship a few days ago—

one that had landed on a moon orbiting Boonta to pick up
the remaining colony of platypus shifters who had been
hiding there.”

Kirk grabbed Lyndarum before he could react. They

looked deep into each other’s eyes. Lyndarum relaxed.
“Easy, Lyn. Let him finish. Then we can pound the shit out
of him…all right?”

Lyn nodded.
Wiks continued, but not before licking his lips, “I piloted

the stolen ship to Mjae after I spaced the crew, believing the
shifters would be safe. Unfortunately, little did I know
Dodger was watching me from a Schism vehicle lurking in
the darkness behind the ship. I led them to what your father
was doing, and as the slave trader ship was boarded I was
given a choice. Help the Schism destroy both colonies now
residing on Mjae or be killed myself.”

“So you sold me and my father out, hey Wiks?” Kirk saw

red again, his heartbeat loud in his ears while his anger rose
more and more.

“What choice did I have?” he muttered, nervousness clear

in his voice. “Have you seen a Schism? They’re mother-
fucking scary and that’s before they approach you.”

Kirk wanted to strangle the life from Wiks right there and

then, watching the last breath of his life leave his body.
Much to his surprise, Lyndarum came between them. “Kirk,
listen. We can still make this right.”

Seeing the love, the beauty that was Lyndarum stare deep

into his soul with those perfect blues, Kirk relaxed his grip

Mark Alders

on the man he now despised the most in the whole universe.
He snarled. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill
this fucker right here where he stands? I’d say he’s not
telling us the whole truth, you know, Lyn. He’s a lying
fucker only interested in saving his own sorry arse.”

Wiks said, “I’m not lying.”
Lyndarum interjected, “We’ve got to get to Mjae to stop

Dodger from transporting the shifters off the moon. Killing
this man won’t change what has happened, but together we
can change what will happen.”

Kirk stepped back for a moment. “Fine.” After

Lyndarum’s words rolled around in his mind for a moment,
while he ruminated about the meaning, he agreed with his
lover’s logic. He grabbed Wiks, leading him toward the
door. “You’re a real nasty piece of work, Wiks. I suggest you
take your sorry ass out of my sight before I change my mind
about what I want to do to you. I can’t believe you came to
my birthday knowing all this. I can’t…I can’t believe how
much of a fucking jerk you really are and that I chased your
tail all those years just so I could get a taste of your cock.
You make me sick to my stomach. Now fuck off and never
cross my path again, otherwise you’ll wish you did let the
Schism kill you, you hear me?”

“Wait.” Wiks screamed. “Before I go, there’s something

else you’ve got to know.”

“What?” Kirk’s impatience was now at its thinnest point.

He’d heard enough, but decided to give the man one last
chance to see if he could redeem himself. A tall ask.

Wiks stuttered, “I saved you from death, Kirk, because I

love you.”

Those were not the words of his redemption Kirk wanted

to hear. A sorry, anything would have been better than what
he did utter. “Fuck off!” Kirk slammed the door.

He turned to Lyndarum.

Atlantica Dream

His lover had pulled out an overnight bag from the

wardrobe and began stuffing their new clothes into it. “I
believe it’s time we get Matvey and Char and get out of here
before any more truths find our door.”

Mark Alders

Chapter Eleven

yndarum decided to wear a pair of fashionable shorts,
the ones like Kirk had been given what seemed an
eternity ago, all sexy and strangely comfortable. Kirk

continued to wear his gifted pair, and Lyndarum would
have to admit, seeing his wonderful template, the man who
had made love to him in such a special way, back in the
exotic cloth he was given made Lyndarum think of how he
acquired them.

Was the woman at the spaceport terminal someone other

than who she said she was? Not that she’d revealed much
about herself. Still, so far folks Kirk had known all his life
had turned out to be backstabbers…or worse. Wiks was a
prime example of such a thing. Why not a similar connection
with the woman, too? Seemed everything was a set up,
anyway.

“Who was that woman we met on Ardross Major, Kirk?”

Lyndarum asked. They had picked up Matvey and Char and
were heading through the spaceport on foot. Lyndarum
enjoyed that they seemed to be enjoying their new found
freedom. Certainly, if the wild clothes they had chosen were
any indication of their joy, then they were purely ecstatic.
Char was in a garish bright red sequined jacket and not
much else, while Matvey chose a contrasting green number.
They looked perfect together, cocks waggling hypnotically
while they strutted hand in hand behind them, their new

Atlantica Dream

found freedom a beautiful glint in their eyes. The boutique
attendant called the jacket outfits nudity with style.
Lyndarum liked that description.

They were at the spaceport because Kirk had organized a

sleek looking space fighter to transport them to Mjae. Sure,
their original plan was to purchase a slave trader ship, but
seeing as Wiks had already transported the platypus shifters
to Kirk’s home moon, there seemed no need to buy such a
large cumbersome ship now. Besides, all agreed, a fighter
might be a better option, especially considering the Schism
now knew what they were doing and were more than likely
waiting patiently for them to arrive at Kirk’s home, like
spiders waiting in their webs.

“A friend of my father’s, I believe.” Kirk said

nonchalantly.

“You’re not sure?”
Kirk stopped in his tracks. “Lyn, you’ve got to

understand, before I came into your life, I never gave a shit
about anything. I think I’ve seen her here and there, but I’m
not sure. Perhaps at some fundraiser or fancy do. I really
don’t know. Why?”

Lyndarum shook off his thoughts. “Nothing. Never

mind.”

The fighter craft Kirk had purchased loomed large on the

landing pad. It had four turrets, large protrusions out of its
slimline hull, two which fired plasma-magno projectiles and
two for standard lasers. Sure, not a heavy military vehicle,
but one that was far better for their needs. The ship had
speed and agility, and from previous experience, those traits
were more important than firepower when it came to
dealing with the Schism.

All four approached the craft.
Kirk let them all enter before he did, a true gentleman. He

spanked Lyndarum on his buttocks and a loud thwack

Mark Alders

echoed through the corridors of their new home for the next
day or so while they travelled to the sanctuary moon of
Mjae.

As soon as they were settled in, Kirk radioed control and

they were given permission for takeoff. After a rather
traditional countdown, one which wasn’t really necessary,
they were soon outside the artificial pull of Ganymede
Tuesday and immersed in the eerie beauty that was space
between the planets. The view was spectacular, especially
considering the Ardross system’s yellow star was created out
of a previous star that had gone supernova eons before. The
remnant gasses and dust, reds and greens and blues, left
dancing trails across the cosmos, ones that helped navigators
find their way across the vastness like sailors used the stars
to guide them on the oceans of old back on Earth.

Lyndarum became lost in his thoughts while he watched

the view screen, his mind swept away like the many gasses
that were once held together to burn for an eternity as a life-
giving star before gravity won and it ripped itself apart.

All of a sudden, a beep sounded and Lyndarum was

knocked from his reverie.

“What’s that?” Matvey asked, reiterating Lyndarum’s

thoughts.

“We’ve been followed,” Kirk stated matter-of-factly while

he pressed buttons and a rear view presented itself. The ship
that had followed them was of smaller configuration than
the ship they were on. The thing was obviously built for
stealth and according to what Kirk punched up on the navi-
computer, was only detected because they were passing
through an oxygen stream left by the star of old and the ship
had left a visible wake though the trailing cloud. “They look
like Trading Authority to me,” Kirk added.

“Why would a Trading Authority ship be following us?”

Char asked, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. Sure the

Atlantica Dream

question was obvious, but warranted.

“Perhaps they are only on the same course as us,”

Lyndarum said. “After all, these gas lines are like highways
through the system, aren’t they?”

Kirk harrumphed. “Seems like too much of a coincidence

if you ask me.”

“The story of our lives, lately,” Lyndarum said.
Before any more conjecture could be added to the

conversation, a voice boomed through the two-way
communications device. “Ship with registration Z-775, I
know you are aware of my position. By the authority
invested in me by the Slave Trading Council, please prepare
yourselves for boarding.”

“Under what grounds?” Kirk commanded.
Without delay, the man answered, “Under grounds of

suspicion of harboring wanted criminals.”

“Fuck off, the only people onboard this ship are free

citizens of Ardross,” Kirk snapped, his impatience clear. “I
can transmit the data as proof if you like. I know you’ve
scanned us.”

This time there was a delay. If Lyndarum wasn’t

mistaken, he could have sworn he heard another voice in the
background. A familiar voice. “The man who has laid these
claims is right here with me. What he has told me is proof
enough for boarding. Now, prepare yourself. You will get no
further warning.”

Kirk flicked some more switches. “Listen, you authority

prick, you can tell Wiks he’s a fuckhead. Oh, and you can
board us if you can catch us, you fucker.” With those words
Kirk slammed on the hyper-acceleration drive. Seemed he
would need to muster all of his piloting skills, and real
quick. Thank goodness he fancied the taste of a pilot’s cock a
couple of years back. Amazing what a man could teach you
when he was getting blow jobs on demand.

Mark Alders

Everything became a blur of swirling color and

Lyndarum’s eyeballs wanted to occupy the same space as
his toes. Then Lyndarum found he was flat on his back on
the cockpit floor with Matvey and Char’s limbs enmeshed
with his own once his vision returned to normal. One thing
about nudity with style, it was still nudity and Lyndarum
could have sworn his balls had become so parted by the
sudden weight upon him they were now on different
hemispheres of his body. A loud cracking sound also
accompanied this new found agony.

Thankfully, the noise wasn’t the sound of breaking bones,

but rather the pilot’s chair being snapped out of its housing,
bolts shorn. Kirk found the floor as well.

All four of them became a rolling ball of laughter on the

cold, hard cockpit floor. Kirk said, “Pity this isn’t a swinger’s
party, hey?”

Before Lyndarum could chastise Kirk, after all, Kirk was

his and his alone right now, a light on the cockpit
illuminated. A light that didn’t bode well.

“Seems the authority can catch us,” Matvey said. He had

got to his feet and was helping the others, making especially
sure his Char was all right.

Again, before another word could be added, a clank of

metal on metal reverberated throughout the ship. The
authority craft had attached itself to their fighter’s hull.
There would only be a matter of moments before the man
would be in the cockpit with them firing his gun and asking
questions later.

Lyndarum shifted.
Not a moment too soon, either. Seconds after Lyndarum

scurried under the protection of his Kirk, the cockpit door
was blasted open. Matvey and Char let out a scream,
backing away, while Kirk stepped forward, protecting them
all.

Atlantica Dream

The amazing thing was, Kirk didn’t have a weapon, but

that didn’t stop his bravado. He picked up the broken pilot’s
chair, and as soon as the smoke cleared enough for him to
get a good aim, he threw it with all his might at the first
person to enter the cockpit from the blast hole.

A loud metallic thud and a muffled moan later, the chair

struck the floor in a tangled mess and the authority guard
was on the floor, blood pouring out of a wound on his head.

“Take that, you fuck stain!” Kirk said.
Unfortunately, guards don’t travel alone. Another guard

entered, as did Wiks. With the appearance of Kirk’s ex-lover,
Kirk changed from being a protective hero to a salivating
monster. Lyndarum couldn’t blame him, either. Wiks had
sold them out…again.

This time, Matvey and Char ran forward, rushing the

guard. He was stunned to have opposition to his actions,
and if it wasn’t for the fact he had to step over the body of
his fallen comrade, he might have readied his blaster sooner.
Good thing for Matvey and Char he didn’t. They piled on
top of him, causing a roll-around tussle on the floor
complete with choice swear words and limbs akimbo.
Watching them was kind of surreal in a way. There they
were, two former slaves, still naked…mostly, fighting for
their lives to continue their new found freedom, cocks and
assholes everywhere with the poor guard at a loss as to what
to do other than defend his life.

Which left Wiks.
Kirk let out a snarl, then balled his fists. He took on a

boxer’s pose. “I’m going to enjoy punching those pretty
features off your face, Wiks.”

Wiks readied himself, as well. “Just you try it.”
Then it happened. Kirk and Wiks fought each other, bare-

knuckled and holding nothing back.

Lyndarum took a moment to take stock of the situation.

Mark Alders

To his left, Matvey and Char had ripped off the guard’s
clothes, scratches and gouges all over his bare skin,
punching, biting and kicking him without remorse. On his
right, Wiks and Kirk were punching the crap out of each
other, both dodging and diving as each punch was thrown.

Seemed to Lyndarum the fighting was too even and their

battles could go on forever. Not a situation he wanted to see
perpetuated for much longer. Time to act.

He scurried over to where Matvey and Char had cornered

the authority guard. Sure, they had him where they wanted
him, but the man knew how to defend himself. All three
men wore battle scars, Matvey the worse affected.

Without delay, Lyndarum launched himself off the

cockpit control table, landing slap bang in the middle of the
authority guard’s hairy chest. With a squeal that pierced the
melee sodden air, he dug his poisonous barbs deep into the
man’s skin. Before the man could react, other than to grab
Lyndarum and pull him off his flesh, tearing his skin, he
sank to the floor. The poison which coursed through his
veins had done its work, especially since Lyndarum gave
him an extra strong dose.

Matvey let out a cheer, as did Char.
Lyndarum shifted back to human form. His ribs had been

crushed and he swore a couple had been broken when the
guard tried to pull him off his chest. Still, a small price to
pay for victory, really.

A muffled groan from Kirk made Lyndarum well aware

the battle wasn’t over yet. Another groan and then a skin on
skin thud that sent shivers of disbelief through Lyndarum as
both men continued to fight. Kirk and Wiks looked worse
for wear, even after a short time of bare knuckle action. Kirk,
sporting a black eye, a cut lip and blood all over his
knuckles, stood the steadiest at least. Wiks had a swollen left
cheek along with a black eye, his face caked with blood,

Atlantica Dream

most running from his nose.

Lyndarum was about to rush forward to help his man

tackle his enemy, when Matvey grabbed him. “I think it’s
their fight and their fight alone.”

“I suppose,” Lyndarum said. He was reluctant to not go

and offer help to his lover, but Matvey was right. This was
something Kirk had to do, if only to help erase the demons
of his past.

The fight lasted another ten minutes or so. With a final

punch to Wiks’s stomach, winding his opponent so he
doubled over to try and catch his breath, Kirk said, “Had
enough, fucker?”

Tears were in Wiks’s eyes. He looked angered, but even

so, had to admit defeat considering he was out numbered.
Besides, he couldn’t even stand up straight, his breath not
coming to him. He looked a sorry sight. “You
win…Kirk…for now.”

Kirk stood over Wiks. “Lyn, space the two authority

guards.”

“What about Wiks?” Char asked. “You can’t space a man

in cold blood. He’s still alive. He’s still—”

Kirk offered his hand to Wiks. When the man was on his

feet, Kirk turned him around with no delicate action and
pushed him into the storage locker, bolting the door. “Wiks
isn’t going anywhere. I have plans for him now that we’re
almost even.”

At that moment, the cockpit’s proximity warning light

ignited and a crackling sound could be heard over the
intercom. Lyndarum rushed over to press the button, see
what else could go wrong with their journey to Mjae.

A voice, smooth and confident, said, “Hey guys, I’m

Brake, Lady Evermore’s son. I’ve been instructed to escort
your lot to Mjae, seeing as you may have to deal with a
Schism problem or three. My mum sends her wishes and

Mark Alders

hopes you found my shorts comfortable, Kirk Skelling.”

Lyndarum looked at Kirk. “Lady Evermore?”
Kirk smiled, then winced. A fresh trickle of blood stained

his lips from the movement. “Your shorts are fine, Brake.
Tell your mother we’re thankful for your assistance, but
wished you got here sooner. As you can see, an authority
ship found us first.”

“I saw. Sorry I’m a bit late, but mum had me running

errands before I could take off from Metro Super” There was
another crackle. “Besides, I knew you could handle them,
Kirk. Now, when do I get my shorts back?”

Again, Kirk smiled. “Come on board and I’ll take them off

for you.” Lyndarum glared at Kirk. “But my boyfriend
might not appreciate me flashing my dick to strangers. He’s
only coming to terms I’m wearing another man’s gear—
given to me by his mother, no less.”

Brake laughed. “Never stopped you before from what I’ve

heard.”

Kirk paused. He seemed deep in thought for a moment.

“I’ve changed.”

Atlantica Dream

Chapter Twelve

fter they had dispensed with the dead guards by
spacing their bodies, the corpses to join the gas lanes,
Kirk headed back to the cockpit, Brake and Lyndarum

in tow.

“Who’s your mother, really?” Kirk asked Brake, not

standing on ceremony. Lyndarum was right before—
nothing here lately had happened by chance. Kirk now
needed to know the truth. He needed to know the real
reason why events had turned as they had since his birthday
because things certainly weren’t as black and white as he
had first thought back in his drinking, drug-taking, sex-filled
life of a few days ago. Yes, he had changed, protecting
Lyndarum the catalyst for that, but he still needed to know
about the past.

“That’s easy, buddy,” Brake said with a slap of his hand

on Kirk’s shoulder. “You’re my half-brother.”

Kirk almost choked on his own tongue. “Say what?”
“Yeah, let’s just say my mother got around in her day and

leave it at that.”

Lyndarum said, “No wonder she was so willing to help

you at the terminal—and why she knew who you were.”

Kirk was dumbfounded. He stopped, turned to look

Brake in his eyes. “Well, seems my dear old dad did a lot
more than hide shifters from the Schism, hey?”

“Your father is a legend,” Brake uttered with an almost

Mark Alders

quiet reverence.

Again, Kirk was stunned. “Why didn’t I ever see that side

of him?”

Brake looked away from Kirk, turning to continue their

journey toward the cockpit. “Because you were too involved
with yourself to notice anything beyond your dick, that’s
why.”

Lyndarum let out a laugh. “That’s what I said. Funny

how being a slave for a day changed all that, right, Kirk?”

“No, Lyn, you changed all that for me.”
Brake said, “Ah, love sure does have a way of opening

one’s eyes, doesn’t it? And you sure caught well, Kirk.
Lyndarum, you’re a stunner if I ever saw one—not a pretty
boy, all vacuous and concerned with stupid things like
whether or not your skin is smooth and blemish free or your
hair isn’t out of place, but a true, down to earth bloke. One
space brain Kirk sure needed, that’s for sure. Mum was
right, Kirk here needed a good kick up the backside before
he could become a man, and you sure helped with that.”

Kirk once more stopped. “You didn’t pay Wiks to sell me

to that slave trader did you, Brake?”

“Not me.” He winked.
“Then why the fuck did I end up there? It’s not Wiks’s

style to think of that, let alone go through with it. I mean,
he’s too hypnotized by Dodger’s thick blue-collar cock to
have even sprouted such a concept, no matter what he
claims.”

“I never said my mother—your step-mother didn’t have

anything to do with it. Anyway, she never lets us in on what
she schemes. That’s her business. But let me tell you one
thing, you would have never been in danger, either of you.
The man who bought you would have met his fate, anyway.
She would have seen to that. You would have always come
to this point, mark my words.”

Atlantica Dream

Kirk smiled. “This is just getting better and better, isn’t

it?” But everything made sense now. The only thing that
bothered him out of all of this was the fact he hadn’t picked
up on all this earlier. Now he knew who his mother was—
she didn’t die at birth as he was led to believe. Still, his
father would have had good reason to keep such a secret
from him. Perhaps because he wanted Kirk to discover all of
this on his own, like he was now. Maybe because he wasn’t
ready to hear such revelations until now. Whatever the case,
Kirk, strangely, felt more complete. He had a half-brother
and a mother who had been looking out for him all his life,
but at the same time knew he needed a reality check. Why
the fuck did he ever start taking Atlantica Dream? The drug
sure had fucked him up, in more ways than one.

Brake said, “Mother is a legend, too.”
Lyndarum grabbed Kirk’s hand. “Seems you’ve now

become a part of a very large family.”

Kirk thought about Lyndarum’s words. He was

right…again. By becoming Lyndarum’s boyfriend, not only
had he become a part of the colony of platypus shifters—a
colony he had to save from the likes of Dodger and the
Schism—he also had a legacy to fulfill. The legacy his father
had started well before his birth. “Well then, I think it’s time
you went back to your heavy cruiser, Brake, and we’ll get on
with this. Something tells me we aren’t out of the woods.
Not yet.”

“Might be right there, brother,” Brake said. He was

heading down the corridor to the airlock. “I’ll see you on the
other side—oh, and you can keep my shorts. They look
better on you anyway.”

“Thanks,” Kirk said.
Within moments, they were back inside the cockpit.

Matvey and Char had cleaned themselves up and done the
best job they could to get the place back in order, including

Mark Alders

bolting the pilot’s chair back in place.

Kirk sat down.
He pressed a few buttons. Within a heartbeat the fighter

was cruising as fast as it could go through the gas and dust
lanes toward Mjae, Brake’s ship at their side. If they were
ever going to be ready for the Schism, now would be that
time. In fact, as Kirk thought about it, if it wasn’t for Lady
Evermore, Kirk would no doubt be dead. He knew Wiks was
a lying fuckwit.

The ship came to a stop a few thousand kilometers from

the electro-magnetic field that protected the Moon of Mjae.
Asteroids and all manner of debris marked the border of the
field. Kirk didn’t need to look at the view screen to know the
Schism were waiting for them.

When he did look, what he saw defied even what he

could conjure in his mind. There were three Schism vehicles,
all menacing and ugly, and about a half a dozen other ships
flanking them.

Kirk imagined the other ships belonged to Dodger and his

salvage crew. The Schism couldn’t approach the Moon, the
magnetic field strong enough to send them back to the dark
places of the universe from where they came.

Still, that left half a dozen problems. Dodger’s ships had

no such restrictions and to add more holy fuck this can’t be
happening to the mix, the Schism vehicles would probably
waste them before they even got close enough to engage
Dodger and his men. One thing Kirk did notice, one of the
ships that belonged to Dodger was a slave trader ship. No
doubt the thing was full of shifters taken from Mjae—
shifters Kirk’s father had protected all his life.

Kirk saw red.
With deft hands over the controls, he directed their

fighter at the nearest ship, laser turrets blazing. Brake, in the
heavy cruiser, followed suit. Within seconds, the first few

Atlantica Dream

ships were nothing but burning flotsam as they fell into
Mjae’s atmosphere. This, of course, led to another problem.

The Schism became active.
With a blur of movement, the Schism came for Kirk and

Brake’s ships, like black hands of death reaching out to
touch them. The space around their vehicles distressed a
mess of matter, both dark and of the normal universe,
collided when they accelerated. Kirk swallowed hard. “Here
we go, gentlemen!”

Lyndarum sat next to Kirk, holding him. Matvey and

Char took similar refuge, preparing themselves for the
onslaught to follow. All the while, Kirk never let his finger
off the firing button, sending salvo after salvo into the
waiting death that approached them.

Brake’s heavy cruiser fired Magno-missiles, something he

would have known to be the best weapon to combat the
Schism. With a line of fire traced through the debris of rock
and dust and gas, the first Schism vehicle took a direct hit,
the explosion blinding.

When the fire and light and convergence of matter had

subsided, the other two Schism vehicles came around their
disabled comrade. The problem with Magno-missiles, they
were too slow to load between salvos. Kirk had no choice
but to try and buy Brake some time.

He bought the fighter into the path of the approaching

Schism.

Lyndarum stood. “This is it, I think.”
Right then, Kirk decided to put his plan into action. After

all, Wiks had got them into this mess, whether he was
attracted to Lady Evermore’s money or not. If Kirk knew his
ex, Wiks would have sold them out no matter who paid. To
see him dead was a wasted opportunity. Far better to make a
gain, and what better way than to sell Kirk to a slave trader?
“Matvey, you want to release our prisoner, buddy?”

Mark Alders

100

Matvey and Char did as asked.
Seconds later, Wiks was released. He was a blubbering

mess on the cockpit floor, no doubt his mind working
overtime about what Kirk would do to him. The man
shielded his tear stained eyes from the lights, and from
Kirk’s wrath. Sure, being locked up for hours would have
caused his eyes to have trouble with the sudden change, but
Kirk would bet the man was more concerned with his own
skin. The selfish prick. Such a thought amused Kirk. Only a
few days ago he was like Wiks, and if it wasn’t for the
fucker, he might still be. Then again, Lady Evermore
obviously wanted Kirk to be taken to safety, so who knew
what might have happened had things been different. The
one truth—Kirk’s life would never be the same again.

“Well, Wiks, time for you to shine so you can redeem

yourself in my eyes.” Kirk flicked some switches and
pressed buttons. In the view screen, the looming Schism got
larger and larger, the darkness of their vehicles like black
holes, releasing their weapons to weaken the fighter’s
protective energy shield.

The cockpit shuddered.
“What are you going to do to me?” Wiks asked. His voice

weak, like his spine.

“Give you the same chance you gave me.” Kirk grabbed

Lyndarum, gesturing for Matvey and Char to follow him.
“Good luck, buddy.”

With that, he led them to the only escape pod on board

the fighter—one which held four. Kirk’s plan was to create a
distraction by sacrificing the fighter. He had to buy time for
the cruiser to ready its missiles for a second salvo, as well.

Why not kill two birds with one stone?
Seemed Wiks was the perfect candidate to pilot the fighter

while they made their escape. If he was lucky, he might get
out alive. If not—well, he would soon join the authority

Atlantica Dream

101

guards whose bodies added to the floating debris around the
Ardross system that sometimes interfered with navigation.

When the pod was ejected, an affair that wasn’t as smooth

as Kirk had hoped, with plenty of banged heads and
cursing, he steered it toward Brake’s cruiser. An airlock door
was open, the light of it like a beacon of hope waiting for
their arrival. The battle was well and truly underway, with
Wiks firing all turrets at the oncoming onslaught that was
the Schism. The view screen on the pod was a blaze of colors
as the Schism surrounded the fighter like wolves circling a
wounded deer.

Kirk was thankful he had made sure his half-brother was

involved in his plan from the get go, because to be honest, he
knew something like this would have been the result of
them coming here. Again, he was thankful when the pod
docked.

Within seconds of the hatch opening, Kirk ran as fast as

his legs could carry him to Brake. He would need all the
help he could get to make sure they got out of this mess and
only had a matter of moments to take advantage of the
situation he had created. Lyndarum, Matvey and Char, were
close behind.

Kirk shouted, “Each of you take a turret and give the

Schism and anything else that moves everything you can.
We need to get this cruiser to full fighting capacity if we’re
ever going to get out of this alive.”

They didn’t need to be told twice.
Lyndarum went to the left laser turrets, switching on

manual so he could get better control than what an AI would
give. Matvey went right. Char took the lower. Kirk decided
to continue on his path and give Brake a hand at the Magno-
missile controls.

When at the Magno-missile controls, freeing up Brake to

control the ship, the cruiser turned about to face the action

Mark Alders

102

proper. The sight of the Schism firing upon the fighter as it
burned into oblivion filled the screen. Now was the time.

“Do it, Kirk!” Brake said. The excitement in his voice

clear.

The heavy cruiser released everything it had all at once,

sending the two remaining Schism vehicles back to the dark
matter universe to hopefully never come back. Kirk cheered,
but one short lived. Another ship approached, one built by
human hands. On the communications array, Dodger’s
stone, cold face appeared. “Say your prayers, shifter lovers.
Time to meet your maker.”

The ship fired upon the cruiser.

Atlantica Dream

103

Chapter Thirteen

he shields of the cruiser held.

With Lyndarum, Matvey and Char at weapons, Kirk

and Brake concentrated on one thing and one thing only,

making sure the forward protective array stayed in the line
of site of the enemy. They were the most powerful shields
and could take the most hits. The last thing they needed
right now was a side swipe from a stray missile to weaken
their defenses.

The only problem with concentrating on one enemy at a

time was the fact there were more than one enemy about.
Two other ships and the slave trading vessel entered their
view. Kirk knew they had to do two things, destroy the
ships, but not damage the one carrying the shifters Dodger
and his crew had taken from Mjae. Shifters, by rights, who
belonged to his father.

If Kirk was now the new owner of his father’s ranch, then

by all the gods in the universe he was going to make sure he
kept everything his father had left. It was the least he could
do. He would also, through his new sense of belonging,
provide a home for Lyndarum and his clan. Matvey and
Char could choose their own path, although Kirk had a
hunch they would stay, making their home on Mjae.

In other words, for the first time in Kirk’s life, he had too

much to lose.

“We’re ready to fire another salvo of missiles,” Kirk said.

Mark Alders

104

Brake, concentrating on piloting the cruiser, said,

“Magno-missiles won’t be as effective on these ships, Kirk.”

A huge crash reverberated throughout the cruiser, the

bolts which held it together shaking in their housings. Kirk’s
worst fear had been realized. The other ships had taken
position on either side of them, firing at the weaker shields
on the sides. They were sitting ducks.

“The bastards!” Kirk slammed his fists onto the controls.

A volley of magno-missiles blasted from the forward
weapons array.

The ship in front took damage, but wasn’t destroyed. The

reply, a full on laser assault from all ships that surrounded
them.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” Brake yelled. He pushed

on the thrusters and the cruiser lurched forward. The inertial
dampeners must have been damaged in the last attack.
Sparks flew, and over and over, the ship seemed to shudder
like it was going to fall apart. Still, with Kirk’s heart in his
mouth, they made it past Dodger’s ship.

In fact, Brake didn’t worry about avoiding asteroids. His

goal was the surface of the moon where they could land. The
ranches defenses could then be activated—ones that had
been disabled while Dodger pillaged Kirk’s land.

Two of the ships followed.
The first, Dodger’s vessel, flanked the slave trader to

protect it. Seemed no matter what happened next, the
shifters on board were lost to them. Kirk hoped there
weren’t many. He hoped the cargo hold was empty, that
they had not yet begun stocking it up. He felt like he had
failed. A strange feeling, considering before his twenty-first,
all he’d wanted to achieve was to be the best cocksucker this
side of the Ardross rift.

More fire found them, this time from the aft.
The two ships didn’t give up.

Atlantica Dream

105

“I think we need to play dirty, Brake,” Kirk suggested.
“What did you have in mind, brother?”
Kirk went over to the controls, gesturing for Brake to let

him be seated. No questions were asked. “I learned this
move from a pilot I used to suck on a regular basis. It’s
called the double-grav whammy and if I can pull it off, we’ll
be home and hosed.”

Brake patted Kirk on his back. “I’m sure glad you love

sucking cock.”

“Don’t thank me now. I haven’t got us out of this mess

yet.”

With all the concentration he could muster, Kirk prepared

the engines for what he was about to do. Not that they could
really be prepared. All he could try and do was make sure
they remained cool throughout the maneuver, otherwise
they’ll toast themselves from the inside out.

Kirk pressed the internal intercom button. “Hang on,

gentlemen. This is going to get rough.”

Then, with a deep breath, Kirk directed the ship to the

largest asteroid he could see in his view screen. He hoped
with all his heart the thing had at least some gravity,
otherwise they’d soon be a very messy pile of debris to add
to the protective electro-magnetic shield which surrounded
Mjae.

With the engines on full burn, he took the asteroid head

on. At the last possible moment, he swung about, but
making sure he directed the cruiser to the high atmosphere
of Mjae. In effect, if he played it right, the following ships
wouldn’t be able to compensate for the dramatic shifts in
gravity between the asteroid, the shield, and Mjae. The
cruiser would because of its shields and armor—well, that
was the theory.

Kirk knew there was only a small window where the

cruiser could pass between all those variables without

Mark Alders

106

breaking apart, even considering its protection. As he
piloted, the ship let him know in no uncertain terms how it
disapproved of what was going on. After all, spaceships
didn’t fair too well in an atmosphere, whether they buffeted
it or not.

The metal inside the cruiser groaned. Bits were sheared

off, and a trail of flotsam was soon left in their wake. In fact,
everything shuddered and Kirk’s brain felt like it was being
shaken inside his skull.

More sparks flew as pipes and parts left their housings,

but overall, despite the forces now being applied to the hull,
the cruiser did all right. Kirk couldn’t say the same for the
two ships who followed.

Right then, Lyndarum entered the cockpit, his face a mask

of surprise. “What’s going on?” he asked with a gasp as he
took in the view of the fiery atmosphere of Mjae
surrounding them while they skimmed it.

Kirk stood up. “I believe we’ve done it.”
“Done what?” Again, Lyndarum’s look of surprise failed

to leave him.

“We’ve pulled off the double-grav whammy, that’s

what,” Brake said.

Kirk smiled, coming over to embrace his boyfriend. “And

as a reward for pulling off the piloting move of the century, I
want to take you into the back room, Lyn, and suck your
cock until you faint. Clear?”

Lyndarum nodded slowly. “So…are the shifters all

right?”

Brake pressed the communications button. “Dodger, you

scum, give up. We’ve found you out.” From the corner of the
view, a ship blasted into hyper-acceleration, leaving the
trading vessel behind.

Kirk let out a laugh. “I take it that’s your answer,

brother.” He then planted a kiss right on Lyndarum’s

Atlantica Dream

107

forehead. “Now, how about getting that tasty dick of yours
out of your pants so I can have my reward for getting rid of
not only three Schism vehicles, but saving your clan, too.”

Lyndarum seemed to blush. “You’re incorrigible, you

know that, Kirk.”

“I know. Now…let’s get on with it. I’m practically

salivating for you.”

“Will everything be all right now, Kirk?” Lyndarum

asked, running his hand over Kirk’s back, moving his hands
down so he could feel his hard, well formed buttocks.

“I don’t know, but I can tell you one thing, Lyn.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ve made me a new man and because of that I’m

going to do everything I can to make sure your clan is safe as
well as what my father left me. I’m a rich man, remember,
and as such, I can spend money on making sure my wishes
are fulfilled. Besides, why wouldn’t I want to keep
protecting you, Lyn? You’re my boyfriend.”

“I am?”
Kirk pulled Lyndarum close, planting more affectionate

kisses onto his cheeks, forehead and lips. He tasted of salt
from his perspiration and Kirk couldn’t help but become
aroused. “You are. Now, give me what I asked for so we can
let Brake land this baby and we can all get on with making
sure the ranch is protected. The first thing I’m going to buy
with my new inheritance is some huge mother fucking
battery guns to blast anything out of the skies that might
threaten us.”

Lyndarum let out a gentle laugh. “That sounds perfect.”
Kirk led him to one of the back rooms. When in private,

and with Kirk already on his knees and freeing Lyndarum’s
hardening cock from his fancy shorts, retracting his foreskin
so he could taste even more of his manhood, he couldn’t
help but think how fantastic things had turned out.

Mark Alders

108

When Kirk took Lyndarum’s cock deep into his mouth,

maneuvering himself so he didn’t gag, sucking him off with
an expertise he could have only acquired from a lifetime
giving blow jobs, he relaxed. Sucking on cock did that to
him, made him happy, and for the first time since Lyndarum
and he had lain down together what seemed an eternity ago,
Kirk’s mind became clear. All his worries melted away.

He now knew with certainty the path he had to follow.

He knew, without a shadow of doubt, as the new and
rightful land owner of the ranch, he had a responsibility. A
responsibility to not only make sure Lyndarum was always
safe, from the Schism and the likes of fuckheads like Dodger,
but to his new family, his mother, the Lady Evermore, and
his brother, Brake, and to make sure his father’s colony of
cattle shifters thrived under his care.

Moments after Kirk began his sucking actions, complete

with his hands fondling Lyndarum’s ripe balls, Lyndarum’s
cock spurted a hot, sticky mess down his throat. The shifter
let out a delighted groan, running his fingers through Kirk’s
hair, massaging his scalp. A sign Kirk had given a perfect
blow job. Reward enough.

With the taste of his lover’s tang on his tongue, the feeling

of his cock pulsing while it delivered more and more love
juice into his mouth, Kirk felt like a real man for the first
time in his life. How he had lived his life before, he didn’t
know. All he knew was, right now, he was alive.

He ran his hands over Lyndarum’s buttocks, pulling him

closer so he couldn’t pull his cock out of his mouth. Kirk was
going to keep on sucking until his man got hard and blew
again. Then he’d do it again, sucking his balls dry if he had
the chance. Right now, all he wanted to do was suck cock, he
was that happy.

Who needed Atlantica Dream to make love? Not him.
Lyndarum was already growing hard again. Again,

Atlantica Dream

109

Lyndarum moaned. Again, Kirk couldn’t be happier. He
knew everything was going to be all right from now on. He
could feel it in his bones, just like he could feel his lover’s
cock press hard against the back of his throat.

Kirk sucked and sucked on Lyndarum, slurping sounds

and saliva enhancing his action.

“By the gods, you’re good,” Lyndarum uttered. His voice

was nothing more than a waiver of delight as he grabbed
onto the nearest support rung while his whole body
shuddered from the attention, his cock throbbing in Kirk’s
mouth while he sucked harder and harder.

Kirk was in Heaven.
For a split second Kirk pulled away, a smacking sound

and a dribble of pre-cum and saliva down his chin the result.
He missed his lover’s cock in his mouth already. “You and
me forever, Lyn. Don’t you worry about anything from now
on, I’ll always be there for you. You and me forever, all
right?”

Kirk returned to his work. There. He had said it. He had

told Lyndarum he wanted to be with him always, through
thick and thin, hardships and joy.

Now only the future lay ahead.

About the Author

I’m Mark and I live in Melbourne, Victoria, Australia. By
day I am a public servant, but by night, when I get in front of
my computer, I can be anyone. I let my imagination go. I can
go anywhere, from the farthest reaches of space, to the
dilapidated house at the end of the street, and anywhere in
between. I write about people from all walks of life, from
teenagers finding out what’s it’s like to be an adult to adults
who discover what it’s like to become a child once more.
Characters move my stories just as much as they move me.

Wyszukiwarka

Podobne podstrony:
Mark Alders A Human for Christmas
Mark Alders Pembroke Eve Chronicles 1 Shadows of the Mind
Mark Alders Pembroke Eve Chronicles 2 Light Of The Body
Mark Alders Beast Within the Maze
Mark Alders Border Worlds 1 The Nourisher
Mark Alders The Pauper s Prize
Penier, Izabella The Black Atlantic Zombie National Schisms and Utopian Diasporas in Edwidge Dantic
The Universal Migrator The Dream Sequencer (2000)
2000 The Universal Migrator (The Dream Sequencer)
Antologia Ostatni z Atlantydy
Procol Harum The Dead Man's Dream
Beijing Language University Press HSK Answer Form A
BAD Rynkowe i mark - ściąga(1), zchomikowane, 35 000 edukacyjnych plików z każdej branży
4607, Akademia Morska, Atlantic United Marine
Kyocera Universal Feeder UF 1 Service Manual
La nueva Atlantida
j zhang us univeristies venture Nieznany
Atlantydzki system uzdrawiania z symbolami

więcej podobnych podstron