Salt Pork (/tg/, lizards, SALTS)

Bent over a grimy table in the vast expanses of the Library maintenance tunnels, Salts-The-Wound winced as his cloaca was pried open by the stranger's throbbing johnson.  With the removal of the fornication ban on Space Station 13, this has become a daily occurrence for the purple-scaled reptilian.  Years of pent-up sexual frustration in the crew erupted, and Salts, the station's on-off chaplain of Carp'Sie, found himself eager to fulfill their needs.  If he wasn't taking people on the spot in the middle of the hallways, he would wander around in the dark maintenance tunnels, hoping he would become prey to whoever stalked the shadows in the underbelly of the station.

The man currently holding Salts down was a nondescript greyshirt in a gas mask and without an ID.  While he did not care too much about who had their way with him, he at least wanted an name to write down on the rapidly-filling black book of his that tallied all of his endeavors.  The greyshirt was standard in all his greytiding processes.  He disabled Salts with a thrown-together stun prod, bound the lizard's arms behind his back with cable ties, and tabled him before tearing off the Carp costume that Salts was so fond of wearing.   Salts would have protested to keep the costume on, but he strangely found himself unable to speak.

The greyshirt wasted no time with foreplay and rutted hard against Salts' firm rear.  Salts always kept himself slick with space lube, making the endeavor painless for his well-worn sphincter.  He lifted his tail high and spread his legs, completely surrendering to the veiny intruder that pistoned through his bowels.  The stimulation easily coaxed his own set of hemipenes to full-attention.  From the base of his broad tail, his twin dicks blossomed forth from their sheath.  They formed an obscene, fleshy V around the human's own penis as Salt's vent strained to accommodate the total girth of three erect members.

While lost in his own lust, Salts noticed something strange from within.  At first he thought the greyshirt was a quick shot.  With one last thrust, he gripped Salts' hips tightly and completely seized up.  Instead of the pearly payload that he expected to fill his chamber, he felt something begin to worm its way through his innards.  He struggled and tried to call for help, but his larynx still refused to function.  Just as the probe was about to reach his stomach,  the familiar sound of disabler beams echoed through the tunnels.  Several rounds impacted on the greyshirt's back.  He went limp and collapsed onto the floor, dragging out of Salts' sopping cloaca what appeared to be a long, alien-looking proboscis.

 A security cyborg rapidly approached the scene, handcuffs and weaponry at the ready.  It paused briefly at what it saw, but then his Asimov protocols fired back into action.  As the borg attempted to restrain the greyshirt, a high-pitched scream exploded out of his gas mask.  Nearby electronics violently sparked, and the borg's own circuitry fried from the EMP that the now-apparent changeling emitted.  He immediately bolted upright and sprinted out of maintenance, tripping occasionally from the vulgar length of flesh that still dangled from his open zipper.

The secborg followed in pursuit once he rebooted, leaving Salts still bound on the table and feeling rather empty.  Although still in shock from what just happened, he was more concerned about his throbbing pair of dicks that were just moments from release.  He never had his insides violated so thoroughly, but he couldn't help but admit that it felt kind of nice. He managed to squirm out of his restraints without much trouble, taking a moment to clean himself up before donning his beloved Carp costume once more. At the very least, the costume was bulky enough to hide his twin erections.  He nursed his aching throat and he wandered through maintenance towards to the dormitories.

As usual, most of the bedrooms were locked and producing a faint cacophony of squeaking beds.  While the fornication bans were highly criticized, the crew also found that productivity hit an all-time low once the laws were lifted.  Salts pulled up a stool in the main lobby.  He was considering welding into one of the occupied rooms to suggest a threesome, when he spotted a portable AI sitting amongst the clutter on the nearby table.  He flicked it on, surprised that an AI personality was actually available for once.  A few clicks later and E.L.O.N.A. came to life on the device's dusty screen.

"How can I serve you, master?"  It chimed.

Salts scratched his chin, and suddenly an idea came to him.  "Get the doorjack app," he commanded.  "Alssso, turn off your camera."

"W-Will do, sir!"

A moment later, the pAI produced a small cable link.   It was at least a meter long and completely prehensile.  Salts grinned, and took the device with him to the dorm's restroom.  He holed up in one of the stalls and stripped out of his costume, letting his hemipenes breathe a bit. He took a seat in reverse, as the toilets were not made in mind for creatures with bulky tails like his.   "We're about ready to jack in.  The door is heavily sssecured, ssso make sssure you're careful with, er, tripping any failsssafesss."

Salts guided the tip of the cable to his engorged cloaca.  On contact, it began to automatically plunge itself into the vent, prodding around quizzically in its fleshy confinements.  "Organic material detected! Was someone gored on this door, master?" "It'sss uh..."  Salts stammered a bit.  The cable gave off just enough of a discharge to make him shudder with pleasure. "It'sss a Xeno membrane.  Jussst keep sssearching for the lock." The pAI displayed a worried emoticon on its screen.   "Are we in danger?  Are there any Xenos currently in the vicinity? Why do I need my camera off?"

Salts gritted his teeth.  He regretted not giving the pAI a proper directive to stay quiet, but his desire for release distracted him far too much to care about the details.  Lizards lacked a prostate gland, but the slithering of cable past the base of his hemipenes was almost enough to get him off.  Just a few seconds more and...

Suddenly, the stall's door opened. Without even seeing who rudely interrupted him, Salts yanked the cable out of himself and turned the pAI off, throwing the device under his nearby carp costume.  He was shoved off of the toilet as the intruder closed the door and dunked their head into the commode. It was another lizard, one who Salts was familiar with.  From the blue scales, business suit, and the narrow tail that females of his race possessed, he knew she was Marryl Cohl, one of the station's rare dedicated lawyers.  She reeked of booze, most of which was  quickly being evacuated out of herself as she violently vomited into the porcelain throne.  She never could hold her alcohol.  Salts wasn't sure how to explain himself in the cramped confines of the stalls, so he waited in silence on the cold tiled floor for her to finish up.

Once she emptied out, she buried her face in her arms that were propped on the toilet seat, and wept bitterly. "Goaahddamnn youuu'u'u Ranssseee," she slurred.  Salts knew what this was about.  Marryl was married to a human named Rance in a ceremony that Salts himself proudly hosted. It quickly ended in a divorce, however, as Rance could never give up his lecherous habits.  She even still had on the wedding band that Rance commissioned the mining department to forge for her.

Salts, however, could never pass up on opportunities like this, especially in his lust-driven state.  He kneeled next to the cyan girl and flushed the toilet for her.  He placed an arm around her shoulder, consoling her as a proper chaplain was meant to do.  "Carp'Sssie underssstandsss your grief, child," he whispered to her.  She looked up at him with glassy eyes, giving him a chance to wipe off her mouth with the corner of his carp costume. "Would you like me to...comfort you, for bit, perhapsss?"

She looked down at her ring for a moment.  Grimacing, she finally took it off and dropped it down the commode.  While Salts usually preferred things quick and rough, he knew how to be a delicate lover when the time called for it.  He picked Merryl up off the toilet and sat himself back down on it.  Balancing her unsteadily on his knee, he nuzzled against her neck as he slowly undid the buttons of her suit.  Finally, he slipped her silk panties off her lithe legs and marveled for a moment at the blue beauty that he held in his hands. "Humansss are fickle beingsss, child.  Carp'Sssie ssshall guide you back to your proper amphibian rootssss."

She nodded, letting Salts slip her legs around his own.  Holding her tight, he gently guided her quivering cloaca onto one of his shafts.  She gasped at the size, but her intoxicated state eased her muscles enough to easily take the entire member into herself.  While lizards could deal with the rapid thrusts that accompany the human style of love-making, traditional lizard mating rituals were prolonged and slow-paced.  Salts adjusted himself inside her, prodding around in her chamber before he finally found her reproductive tract. He nestled himself at its entrance to proceed to the next step of the ritual.

They held each other close, letting their hands explore all around their bodies.   A nibble here and there would coax out a small amount of movement, just enough to provide stimuli to their nethers.  There was no real thrusting involved.  Salts was already aching to come and finished early, sending a long-overdue load straight into her oviduct.  Among lizards, this was not frowned upon.  Males could skip the refractory period that humans suffered from by simply switching to their other hemipenis.  They could alter between the two indefinitely, letting mating sessions potentially last for days.

Salts, however, did not plan to be stuck on a toilet like this for too long.  Thankfully, after his second orgasm, Merryl fell into a drunken slumber in his arms.  He was fond of the girl, but felt like he was already taking advantage of her enough as it is.  He let her rest her head on his shoulders as he finished up his third ejaculation, skipping the reptilian tradition of producing a coagulant plug in the oviduct to keep his seed in place.  The chemist would probably ease any of her worries about children once she woke up, at any rate. He sighed as he was finally able to go limp and retract his members back into his sheath.

Salts propped the girl up on the toilet and got himself dressed.  He took a peek outside the restroom and spotted a vacant bedroom.  Seeing that the coast was clear, he carried Merryl inside and tucked her into bed, leaving her clothes folded up beside her.  Nonchalantly, he exited the dorms and strolled about in the station's main hallway.  He felt the pAI jostle about in his suit, half-forgetting about the damned thing.  He turned it back on to be greeted with a rather upset smiley.

"Master! I had though the Xenos got you!" It shouted. "Are we in the clear now?" Salts sighed at the question. "We're fine now.  That was all resssolved."  The pAI looked a bit concerned. "Well, okay then...What's on the agenda now?" It asked.

Salts scratched his chin and took out a PDA from his pocket.  He had stolen Marryl's before he left her, and typed out a message to Rance under her name.  He grinned and started walking towards the station's tool storage room.  "We're going to make sssome cable tiesss and fill a ssspray bottle with ssspace lube.  Download the sssec HUD and tell me when I finally become wanted."

"C-Can do, master!"