Planet of the Babes

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I wrote this story for an anthology of college-themed stories, but it wasn’t accepted. Anyway, I guess that’s better for you lot because you get to read it without paying for it. 😀 Enjoy. -B.

Planet of the Babes

“Dude, where are you going with those tiki torches?”

Pete was squatting down grabbing an armful of torches from the bottom row of the massive hardware store shelf. I diligently kept my eyes off of his sagging, beltless, waist and the bright orange cartoon character whose head began at the waistband of his boxers. Pete looked over and shook layers of feathery blond hair out of his eyes.

“The party is supposed to be sci-fi. The torches are for ambiance.”

I grimaced and dug fingers into both temples. “Pete. It’s supposed to be a spoof of Planet of the Apes. There were no tiki torches in Planet of the Apes. You don’t need tiki torches.”

He reached over and grabbed another defiantly.

“Shut the fuck up, nerd,” was his scathing reply. Pete wasn’t what we’d call in the English major: a wit. “We’re doing the torches.”

“Aye, aye, capt’n,” I said, adding a mocking salute that earned me a punch in the shoulder.

Pete was the only one in our fraternity with an SUV on campus, so he became the designated Fido and I, the reluctant pet owner, tasked with making sure our common sense impaired comrade stayed on task. So far I was doing a brilliant job. We got in the car and Pete dumped the tiki torches in the back seat with the other supplies. Highlights included: a life-sized poster of Barbarella, about fifteen plastic ray guns, and a few miniature UFOs. I could already feel the fraternity president’s angry stare on my back, but what could I do? Pete was a wrestler, he had a thick chest and massive arms that made him look like he bear-hugged trees out of the ground for a living. Was I going to argue with him? No. My shoulder still hurt from where he punched me and that wasn’t even hard.


I jumped. “What?”

“We’re here, man. Quit day dreaming and help me get the stuff out of the car,” he complained. Pete climbed out of the driver side door and slamming it behind him.

I climbed out and help with the loot. He carried about twelve bags. His biceps strained against his tight shirt and his pecs looked fit to burst through the plain white cotton. Elsewhere, my plain white cotton was trying to do a little bursting of its own. I carried my allotted bags at waist level to hide my erection as we entered the house through the back door.

The smell was always the first time I noticed about our frat house. It was a deep, rich woody smell that for some reason always made me think of a Canadian basement. Not in a bad way, but – well I don’t know if there’s a way to justify that so I’ll just move on. Our house was one of the oldest on campus and our fraternity is the oldest. It’s produced quite a few politicians, millionaires and white-collar criminals (some of which are still generous donors) so you’ll excuse me if I don’t give its name.

Once we were in the building, a brother came over to me and attempted to take a few of the bags off my hands. I refused politely on account of my throbbing cock. Pete on the other hand had already thrown down his load and gone back for the rest. He was a true pack horse, so why did I spend some much time imagining him riding me?

I managed to hide out in the living room for a few moments while I got my erection under control. Unfortunately that put me directly in the line of fire when the president came downstairs and started searching through our purchases. He looked over by chance and caught my eye. He lifted a ray gun and a green alien head from one of the shopping bags.

“Lee. You were supposed to not let this happen,” he said, with some disappointment. “What the fuck are we going to do with all this alien shit. This has nothing to do with Planet of the Apes.”

“Craig,” I responded, “I’m beginning to think we’ll be the only people in attendance who have even seen Planet of the Apes.”

Craig cringed. He was an amateur filmmaker and a huge movie buff. His favorite story was about how he apprenticed last summer with the guy who made the Kill the Vampire! Kill! Kill! Kill!  and the female lead let him fondle her breasts at a party. To be fair, the breasts put forth a far better and more cohesive story than the movie which flopped terribly.

We watched Pete unfurling the Barbarella poster and two brothers gawking while he did. Craig looked at me and said, “well…fuck it. Aliens it is.”


At least we managed to get everyone to dress appropriately. Well, appropriately enough. Brothers roamed the house in a mixture of barbarian gear, faux-leather cod pieces, and tattered brown cotton. Overall the effect was…distracting. One brother in particular had oiled his tight, tanned body and as he reached to attach one of the UFOs to a light fixture I could see the rise of his ass peaking over his cut-up cargoes.

I forced myself to go outside to help with the decorations there. For his safety and mine.

The “ambiance” that Pete was so adamant about building was rubbish. The tiki torches had nothing to do with the huge blow-up rocks that we’d bought and placed around the yard. It looked like we were trying to build Hawaii as envisioned by people who had never seen a beach before. When all was said and done our house looked less transformed than reduced, which I suppose is an accomplishment itself.

Eventually the “babes” arrived.

The idea had started as a mixer between ourselves and a prominent sorority, but the two presidents decided to just make it a party instead. A novel concept.

When the girls started to arrive, I was amused to see that they had as rocky a grasp on the party’s concept as we did. Craig would no doubt be relieved to see the plethora of short skirts and teased hair. There was also an abundance of girls in sarongs with bikini tops. I worked the door for the first shift and the only Planet of the Apes costume I saw was a single girl in a (much) shorter version of an outfit one of the ape doctors wore. I complimented her on it as she came up and I stamped her hand. She complimented me on my outfit which was little more than a pair of short brown swimming trunks and matching flip flops. Someone had wreathed me with a sash which I accepted though I didn’t know what it had to do with anything.

It didn’t take long for the artifice of the party to give away to thumping top 40 pop music and drunken yelled conversation. I could hear it even from outside as I stood out on the stoop counting heads in order to make sure we didn’t go over two-hundred occupants. We’d already been issued a warning from the university and the town fire marshal about having too many people at our parties.

Well after my shift was supposed to be over, a brother, drunk and apologetic came to relieve me at the door.

“Craig says he wants you drunk.” The brother, Allen,  slurred.

I was released into the party.

The heat washed over me as soon as I stepped into the building. It was a summer night, but cool enough out that the heat off so many bodies was momentarily overwhelming. I pressed through a crush of people on my way to the alcohol, stopping occasionally to hello or high-five. I poured myself a stiff vodka tonic as soon as I could in the relative quiet of the kitchen. During parties we usually kept massive garbage cans full of beers around the house for casual consumption, but for the brothers and their guests the kitchen was the Valhalla of booze. Nothing top shelf so as to encourage outsiders to steal anything, but enough decent stuff to keep us smiling all night.

A brother, Lucas the Brazilian, cursed in Portuguese as he rifled through the fridge for a sandwich he’d left there earlier. When he looked up his eyes were glazed over. Totally high.

“Can you believe someone took my sandwich?” He asked, genuinely hurt.

His lips were amazing. I imagined how soft they must be. He was a notorious lady killer. Couldn’t he make an exception and kill me?

“I put it there only this morning. Fuckers,” it was his favorite English swear word, “Fuckers.”

“If only,” I muttered to myself as I downed my plastic cup full of vodka in two hard slugs.

I focused on keeping the alcohol down while Lucas prepared a twin set of tequila shots. There was no point in refusing; I took one and he took one. He didn’t like chasers, he thought they tainted the experience and I wanted what he wanted, whatever it was. We clinked shot glasses and shot the liquor. Lucas nodded through his tight grimace and slapped me on the shoulder. I burped.

Already feeling the swirl, I headed back out into the party. The noise was more manageable now and my ears were hot — a good sign. I started walking and a riding crop shot out in front of me. I thought I imagined it and then it hit me in the face. A pretty, twinkling little laugh issued followed by a gruffer, deeper chuckle.

The owner of the cute laugh was Liz. She was the president of our sister sorority and she was dressed in white leather. She looked like Barbarella. The deeper laugh belonged to Pete whom she was leading around the party by a string tied around his neck.

“This is the planet of the babes, right?” She yelled over the music.

“I believe so.” I yelled back.

“Then that means I own you, right?”

I shrugged. “If you want to.”

“Then that means you have to do what I say, right?”

The tequila was kicking in. I was feeling adventurous and silly. I dropped to my knees.

“Command me, mistress!”

She tugged on Pete’s string and he didn’t move. She tugged harder and slapped him in the knee with her riding crop. He came forward and she reached up on her toes to whisper something in his ear. His face curled at whatever she suggested as if she’d commanded him to drink from the toilet. She slapped him with the riding crop again and then whispered something else. He shot her a glare and she smiled sweetly. She turned back to me.

“Let’s go to the kitchen.”

Pete followed Liz and I followed Pete while inconspicuously checking out his perfectly rounded ass held in inhumane captivity within his shorts.

In the kitchen we found Craig and a girl named Missy mixing drinks while discussing some art film. Their conversation stopped short as the three of us walked in. Liz announced:

“These two are going to kiss for me,” she turned to us, “isn’t that right, boys?”

Pete had a look of disgust for a moment, but a look from Liz quickly cut it short. For my part, I was glad for Lucas’ shot because my reaction was so slow coming and muddled that it didn’t betray my nervous excitement.

“What?” I asked.

“Pete is going to kiss you, Lee. With tongue.”

Pete stopped her. “Wait, so what does Lee get out of this? I mean, we have our agreement, but this isn’t fair to him.”

Liz looked over at me and winked. It went by so fast that I almost questioned whether or not it happened, “Lee and I will work something out. Right, Lee?”

What exactly was happening? What was Liz trying to do here? My nervous excitement was starting to tip toward the nervous side of the scale.

Missy was for it. “It’s just a kiss. If you guys kiss then Liz and I will kiss too.”

The petite brunette came over and linked arms with Liz, the ravishing blonde in white leather. Liz laughed and agreed to the deal. Craig eyed Liz and Missy through his neat rimless glasses, and said, “well as fraternity president I have to say that this should be interesting. I give my blessing.”

Liz turned to us. “You don’t want to disappoint your president, do you?”

I most certainly did not.

“To see you lovely ladies lock lips? I’m in.” I said, but barely heard, over the hammering of my heart in my ears.

“Fuck it.” Pete said.

He reached over and grabbed my head and forced his mouth on mine. I expected our teeth to clink, but Pete’s soft tongue reached out lightly and brushed my lower lip before sliding in further and lapping the tip of my tongue. I had to focus everything I had into not getting hard. I tried to kiss him back, but it was already over. His tongue was gone, his mouth was gone and he was already staring expectantly at Liz and Missy. Their kiss enraptured the two other men in the room, but I was too busy replaying my kiss. Pete’s mouth had touch mine. His tongue had touched mine. Was this heaven?

After the kiss Pete moved across the room and whispered something to Liz and they disappeared back into the party. Craig was saying something to Missy and she laughed hard enough to snort, but I didn’t catch it. I turned to leave the room and Missy asked me to stay, to drink more, to party. But I was too distracted, too flabbergasted and turned on. I made some lame excuses and head out.

I bypassed the party and went upstairs. I was almost running. Once I was behind the door and safe in the darkness of my room I closed my eyes and imagined Pete’s body, his lips, his tongue. I had to adjust myself in the little brown shorts as my cock sprung to full length. There was no holding back now. I kicked off my flip-flops, threw the sash up over my head and crashed down into bed. I threw the sheet over me and touched my lips. It felt ridiculous imagining that Pete’s had just been there a moment ago. I pushed the brown shorts down my hips and took a look. A little precum had gathered at the tip of my cock which was now raging, red and urgent. I took a deep breath and reached for it.

And someone knocked on the door. My head filled with ‘what-the-fucks’ and ‘are-you-fucking-kidding-mes?’.

“Who is it?” I growled.

The door opened and I cursed. Hadn’t I locked it? Craig’s head poked in and let some of the light from the hallway into the dark room.

“Are you ok?” He asked, “you left the party?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just kind of drunk. Thought I might be sick or something, so I came to bed.”

“Oh,” he said stepping further into the room. I almost screamed. “Well, do you need anything?”

“No. I should be fine.”

He stepped into the room completely and shut the door. I braced myself for a speech. Craig liked to give speeches. ‘My poor cock,’ I thought.

Craig lowered his voice, “I didn’t think Pete was going to go for it, but I guess Liz can be pretty persuasive.”

“The kiss? Dude, I’ve seen the way you look at him. Pete. I figured I’d see if I could make a litte mischief. It so happens that Liz and Missy were up for it. Don’t worry, the secret’s safe with them.”

I feigned ignorance. “What secret?”

He continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “The way I see it is that I did you favor and now you owe me one. It took some work pulling that off. Don’t you think a little gratitude is in order?”

Craig was wearing a tight brown t-shirt and pair of cotton sweats that were cut off at the calves. His body was lean and dangerous in the room’s half light. He was already hard, obscenely hard, in his sweats and tracing the outline with his finger tips. I threw the sheet off of me and exposed my own throbbing erection. Craig smiled. He reached up and locked the door.

It felt like it took hours for him to cross from the door to the bed. Hours more for him to take off his neat glasses and place them gently on my nightstand. I watched with rapt attention as he peeled his shirt off exposing the smooth, casual body of an occasional runner and tennis player. He wasn’t the hardened Adonis that Pete was, but his grin was devious and forecasted a filthy mind.

He climbed into bed and my mouth went to his, but he stopped me, slowed me down and turned my head with his hands. Lowering his mouth to my neck he kissed it gently and tingles radiated out from that spot into my shoulders and down my arms.

It felt a little silly to be doing it while the floor vibrated and thumped to the wails of a redundant, screeching pop star, but with Craig’s hands on me I couldn’t conjure the good sense to feel sheepish. His hands were everywhere all at once, trailing down my shoulders and across my chest, squeezing my biceps, my nipples and pressing into the “v” at my hips. He grinned wickedly and dodged every attempt to kiss him while pointedly avoiding my throbbing cock.

“C’mon, what are you doing?” I whispered fiercely, trying to take his hand and put it on my crotch, “look how hard I am.”

“Hey,” he snapped with a fake-serious look, “I’m the president. I’m basically your king.”

“Oh yeah?”


“Well last I heard tonight is planet of the babes, so that makes you…” I rallied suddenly, pushing him off me by using my knees as leverage. He toppled over onto his back and I jumped on top of him. I pinned his arms down and ignored his complaints, he was struggling and turning red with the effort of fighting me and laughing at the same time. “…that makes you, Mr. President, just another sex slave, like the rest of us.”

When he finally stopped laughing, he let his arms go slack and nodded. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess I don’t have much of a choice. Do I?”

I shook my head and reached down to pull off his sweats. He didn’t resist and I easily hooked my fingers into the waistband of his underwear and pulled them off along with his pants in one (relatively) smooth motion. Even in the pitiful light of the room I could make out the satisfying shape of his hard dick. My mouth watered.

“Can I?” I asked.

He shifted a little in the bed to a more comfortable half-sitting/half-lying position so that he could watch. I took his huge grin as a compelling YES! Going down on Craig required a masterwork of self-control. I could not stop myself from smiling and so it took a couple seconds for me to actually start sucking it, but once I did there was no stopping me. He moaned and gently urged me to go deeper. I obliged until the length of him was sliding down my throat.

“Jesus fuck!” he cursed enthusiastically.

Craig rode my throat while I jerked myself off carefully. I wasn’t out, so hot moments like this were few and far between, I didn’t want to get too close. Craig’s moans were already doing a number on me and I didn’t want to shoot like that. When Craig started muttering similar sentiments I pulled away.

He was breathlessly and flushed. “What now?”

I climbed up closer to him until we were horizontal to each other and took his cock and pressed it against mine. His wet, hard cock slid pleasurably against its new friend as I wrangled them into a single fist. He made a noise of comprehension and I lowered my mouth to his for the first time.

His kiss tasted like beer and some stronger alcohol mixed in with something fresh like mint. His tongue was playful, but not evasive and with our mouths pressed together my heart responded in pounding synchronicity. He started working his hips as we kissed, sliding his cock back and forth in my hand. I started to hump him back and a little sigh escaped him. Just a few pumps and precum started leaking out onto my fingers from his eager erection.

“It doesn’t take much to get you going, does it?” I teased in between kisses. He shrugged and pulled me closer with an arm until we were practically lying on top of one another.

We lay there, kissing and thrusting on my bed as our brothers partied on the floor below. Something about that made it hotter. I could barely think about it without making my breath shallow and…

“I’m getting close,” I said, in a voice that was a bit too high.

I started to pull away, but Craig held me firm with his arm around my shoulder and pushed his hips up toward me even harder. I was about to warn him again when he started cumming. The first hot splashes shot between us and feeling them pushed me over. We came together, him just a second before me but no less powerful. We painted each other in cum, shuddered and kissed hard to stay quiet. It was wet and sticky and pungent and glorious.

When it was over we collapsed next to each other. Neither of us made any move to clean ourselves up. We just lay there.

I was about to say something, but Craig cut me off by slapping my cheek with a hand full of jizz. I gaped in mock horror while he broke into hysterical laughing. I, of course, went after him with two handfuls of hastily gathered spooge.

Apparently at least two queers had been marooned on the Planet of the Babes, because we ended the night, ridiculously enough, wrestling in each other’s cum. And thankfully, there were no tiki torches involved.

One response to “Planet of the Babes”

  1. Well, all RIGHT! I appreciate the unexpected happy surprise.

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About the Author

My nom de plume is Benji Bright and I’m an erotica writer. I write the kind of smut that I like to read: hot, whimsical, occasionally thoughtful, and sometimes just plain silly. Outside of writing I’m a film buff, a music lover, and an RPG addict. Also I’m a real person: so feel free to contact me.

Photo by Johnny Murdoc

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