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Author's Note: 'sup. The following story is a part of a little trilogy about General Gaalan of the T'Salyaku Wasp Hive - a character set in a fantasy universe created by yours truly. I have given plenty of thought to the universe and try to express how it works in my stories. Therefore, if you see something that feels like 'lore', it's there on purpose, even if it might not be referenced later in the story (at least not in this one!). Of course, as it is one of my first attempts at story writing, I hope you enjoy my work, be it from a creative standpoint or the lewd standpoint.

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GAALAN II:

An Out-of-Season Reward

"Of course, the rest of our so-called 'allies' cannot be relied on for this. They refuse to understand and I have neither the time nor patience to keep trying to convince them. We will act without them, like we should have from the very beginning. Now... Our first move? It didn't have as much of an effect as I had hoped, I admit. I played it a bit too safe, too slow. But it was not a failure. It laid down the very foundation for our sowing of disarray, something you'll be glad to hear the mutt would agree with me on. But as for our personal disruption..."

The speaker slowly moved his tall self around the room until he found himself behind a desk riddled with documents, notes, maps and various small statues received as a gift from an official visit of the canids a few years back. The figurines, decorated with gold, represented various noteworthy forces present on the Continent and were commonly used by the giftbringers themselves to formulate and keep track of plans over maps. Overthought plans over long-outdated maps, he held the opinion. Regardless, his fingers caressed a well-detailed insectoid and dragged it over the topmost parchment.

"I found out about an.. unofficial invitation sent to our little treasure. It was politely declined due to a - sadly survivable - sickness, great apologies, signed with love.. but! He set a new date. Nearest full moon. Now, my hands are going to be looked at, but if you manage to block the roads before 12th Saovine, specifically the ones here, here and.."

Leaning over the furniture, the speaker slowly went over his plan, holding the map down with one hand, while pointing out the locations with the fingers of the other. His third and fourth arms were crossed beneath the other pair. The weight of the issue was growing heavy on the insect, on the highly-ranking official of the T'Salyaku Hive. You could hear it in his voice - the more it mattered, the more he wanted to discuss it down to every detail.

On the other side of the desk, with a straight back, there stood his confidant. Though he, too, had four arms that he kept behind himself, their thumbs softly rubbing into palms, he didn't belong here. He didn't belong here, for the man was not of any of the United Wasp Hives. This one was a mantis. Head slightly leaned forward, his large eyes were perhaps even less telling than the blank stare of the wasp - the pseudopupils liked to mislead when it came to revealing just what their owner was looking at. The mouth, however, was much more telling as it chewed on nothingness. Chewed on the plans fed to him.

Their collaboration was disturbed by a knock on the heavy door separating them from the rest of the fortress. When both men turned their heads towards it, the wasp ordered them open only for a nearly identical red man to enter. Realising he's interrupting something, he unsurely bowed his head in direction of the other insect and granted himself permission to speak:

"Your excellency.. General.. I apologise for disturbance, but your Queen wishes to grant you an immediate audience."

Turning on one heel, the aforementioned general placed both his upper hands on the mantis's shoulders and shook his hand with the lower right one.

"I hope you can continue from here yourself, Lord Shay."

Having been met only with an approving nod and a verbal repeat of his military rank, he left the lord mantis in his office as he made his way towards the further depths of the fortress. While many liked to at least pretend not to hurry on their way to meet the monarchs, he didn't count himself among those people. He would hate himself if he kept her waiting.

But.. He did, however, stop at one point. Right before his destination, in fact. There where, right in front of the grand throne room doors, stood a statue of a veiled character - beneath its coat, one so colourless yet so full of detail down to the folds, tears and the pattern it wore, what stood out were six limbs of the creature: four arms, two legs. All skinny, exhausted, starved. All covered in scabs, scars, old wounds. Fingers stretched out, broken and fixed, ending with claws that still seemed oh so sharp.

Gaalan often found himself stopping in his tracks even for just the briefest of briefest moments, right here before the statue.

His birth name: Ad'rry'ach.

Kra'amraak, the Feeder.

Aval'aan, the Father.

Vahtiftz, the Plague.

One name that stuck the most though was the very same one supposedly repeated by his own enemies to instill fears in none other than themselves: He-Who-Dies.

All insectoid races argued about just what was the true species of Ad'rry'ach. Essentially all of them insisted that he was one of theirs: cockroaches believed him to be a cockroach, mantids one of their hybrids; wasps were no exception. But it didn't matter, for his story is universal.

He was said to have taken on the grand responsibility of feeding his starving Hive, of finding them a source of nourishment, of taking them out to hunt, slaughter, grow and murder. First one to achieve the higher consciousness, an important aspect of insect philosophy separating the intelligent from the mad and the feral. But Ad'rry'ach's fame didn't come from war successes - no, not at all. Nowadays those are but a sparkle compared to the shining star of the Wasp Hives, especially following their unification. The glory and the name of He-Who-Dies came from his curse.

No matter the amount of pain inflicted upon his chitinous body, his soul always refused to leave. He had been buried in dirt, held underwater until the liquids claimed him, thrown off cliffs and burned on stakes. Yet each time he came back and none knew how or where from - his body parts, if those survived, would often disappear from their resting place. One scholar from the University of Brenna claimed to have found records from the latter years of He-Who-Dies, written down in crude insectoid language.

It was a journal of an insect soldier. One part of it described the grief the man felt in his heart from witnessing his commander slaughtered in combat.. and the second part recorded his shock when the same commander, limping, dirty and with a foul-stench, ended up walking into their command post as if nothing had happened, absolutely refusing to speak.

The story of He-Who-Dies doesn't hide the horror that is death. It amplifies it. It is believed that Ad'rry'ach didn't fully heal each time. With each return his nervous system degraded: from twitches, jitters and shaking of his limbs to random sudden pains, feelings of burning and of cold, even the refusal of his body parts to cooperate. And of course, the mental damage: going through the excruciating pain of dying in many ways, having your organs fail on you only for it to happen again next month, over and over without a reason or an end.. It all breaks a man.

It's no wonder that near the end of his existence, He-Who-Dies was a jittering madman. His body degraded too, often still carrying scars from wounds received in the previous life.

But though none can tell why Ad'rry'ach was cursed, what his goal was and what finally freed him.. Gaalan admired him.

How could he not? The dedication. Loyalty to his Hive, willingness to die all the time just to see creatures inferior to him eat - some of them could not even properly grasp how to speak, but their chittering, hissing and buzzing selves still belonged to the Hive. The fact that he was misunderstood, refused any allies, despised and feared by anyone who wasn't a part of his large family.. It all only seemed to urge him on.

The insect man briefly thought about his own recent actions done in the name of the Hive. Then he pushed through the doors still waiting for him metres ahead.

---

The throne room of the T'Salyaku Hive was not too impressive when compared to the other kingdoms. Unlike the lizards or the shepherds who took great delight in their golds and fabrics, the wasps cared little about showing off in their own quarters. Hard, protective stone with only the rare fabric was enough for them, or at least for the red T'Salyakus. Regardless, a throne room required a throne to deserve the name - thus, one was set near the back of the half-round room. A large seat built with accommodation for the unique physique of its primary user - it was larger, granted more room and had a hole in the back for the abdomen.

Her compound eyes immediately met his when he pushed the large wooden doors open. Mammals would swear there is very little differentiating two insects from each other, particularly if they are from the same colony.. and it held true for the wasps, the T'Salyakus not excempted. Height and slight discolouration of the chitin was the most that the furred and scaled could see, though their physical features clearly indicated they were not all the same and just from a different dye - the T'Salyakus, for instance, had their infamous abdomen shape, which already kept them fairly distinct from the Ve'ers, Ra'aks and even the Ma'roudins.

Then again, many wasps could claim the same about other races.

"Gaalan. Come, come forth, my dear."

General Gaalan T'Salyaku moved forward towards his Queen. She was surrounded by two servants: a muscular tiger and a rather skinny canine, both of whom had nothing around their bodies except for collars around the necks and cuffs on the limbs. Gaalan ascended up the three stairs elevating her throne and dropped down onto his knees, right before his ruler. One of the mammal slaves was busy slowly fanning over the matriarch, while another was sitting by her feet, cheek pressed against a leg as his head received the lightest of scritches. Seeking her hand as well, Gaalan was granted it and gently brought it up to the top of his head, right before his antennae. Eyes looking down, he slowly rubbed his head back against the gentle palm as he received the slave treatment.. Though to him it felt like anything but degrading. Quite the opposite, in fact. He could feel his soul being grazed by peace and calm just from her touch alone.

"Our mother beloved..", Gaalan greeted his Queen.

The Queen was not his actual queenmother - that one has passed away aeons ago, or so at least it felt like. This didn't stop Gaalan, nor any other T'Salyaku born from any other queenmother, from paying the current matriarch with endless respect, admiration and love.

"I heard..", she eventually began and only then did Gaalan slowly get up, "..that the ground beneath the tribals has shaken. Soon, they will all have to fly up in order to survive and they can only fly for so long. Has the Fourth's summit reached an agreement on how to control the next?"

Gaalan nodded slowly, knowing exactly what she was referring to and what amount of effort had brought him to his goals. Not to mention the dangers in his attempts to reach them, to maintain the status quo, continue the ave insectum - not just the dangers that could be brought onto the Hive, but onto his own head as well. Those he omitted as he spoke to the queen. She didn't need to know. Shouldn't and couldn't. It would break her heart and she would break his neck. He began speaking about the deals done in the northeastern fortress, what are their allies' expectations and when are they going to meet again to agree on the final plans.

This is when he realised it.

The familiar smell of sweet, sweet, sweet and fresh juices.

A shiver ran through his body as he felt the warmth within him rising, the smell having had more than enough time to lighten his head.

She adjusted her legs and moved the abdomen resting between them, pointing right towards Gaalan.

"I think you've earned yourself a reward, haven't you?"

"My love.. Are we not past the season--"

"Ssh..", she quieted him. "Ssh. Your Queen grants you an exemption."

The wasps always managed to hide facial emotions well, but Gaalan was clearly more than happy to obey. His knees bent to meet the carpet flooring again - this time a few steps lower than before. On his descent, his hands reached for and slowly made their way down the royal abdomen, feeling its strong, heavy shape - his palms grasping its sides, thumbs going down the smoothness of the underside while the rest of his fingers repeatedly rose and fell from triangular plates on the other end. In his insect vision he could see the two slaves on his sides: the tiger had a problem keeping up the rhythm of fanning the wasp royal, a problem seemingly located between the legs. The dog had his own full erection already resting on one of his own thighs as he rubbed his nose against the chitin, laying soft kisses upon it.

Finally, his 'lips', the two large pieces of sharp-ended chitin grazed the final abdomen ring and slid off to meet with the cushiony inside already drenched with violet liquid. His mandibles spread wide to get his proper mouth as deep inside as possible. From between them extended his proboscis, one that quickly began giving the insectoid royal a reason to softly groan and squirm in her chair as her juices were suckled by the eager servant. They both could feel that those sets of compound eyes, ones with a field of vision so large, were stuck only gazing into each other - the Queen carefully observing him, Gaalan adoring the subtle moves his mouth was pushing her to perform.

He couldn't keep doing one thing forever, though. Not if he wanted to outmatch all those lucky souls, the breeding drones and slaves whose only purpose in the Hive is to satisfy her lust. Though they all had more actual experience after months of servitude, his brethren had pure, unfiltered desire for the Queen, one that didn't even need to be boosted by her pheromones. While all got to love and make love to her, outside of the breeding season they had to make do in different ways.. which is where the breeder slaves came in. Continuing to gently rub the tip of the abdomen in his hands, he let it slide up and down, spreading and smearing those gentle juices all over his face, letting them slowly drag a trail down his chitin chest, towards the legs, right where he..

Before he would lose control over himself, his fingers slid onto the circular entrance - and after teasing the rim, repeatedly promising to push in and threatening not to, slowly his index finger sunk right between those cushiony pillows of the wasp's pussy. The submitting insectoid could feel how soft and clenching his partner was with just his finger and by gods.. It made it so hard for him to stay in control of his mind.

While he was gently moving the finger in and out, expecting to push a second one in, his attention was grabbed by a soft little chitter. When he looked up at the Queen, he immediately realised she had a different task for him as her lower hands were busy taking care of the royal body - namely, one was holding up her own breeding tool by the pseudoknot while the other one slowly slid all the way up from the bottom, ground the palm against the leaky tip and smeared pre all over the inches on its way down only to repeat the process.

"Swallow your pride, General..", she whispered, making her wishes clear.

His proboscis moved up her inches very, very slowly. But unlike everyone else he has ever become intimate with, this one time wasn't due to lingering hesitation after being talked into this submissive act in his lust-drunk state, as was the case with the lovely cyan guardian or even the one time with his Ma'roudin colleague after a lovely night of abusing recreationals. This time he wanted to satisfy her instead.

After delicately trailing around the shape of her pseudoknot, he constantly strayed to the side to lick each of the bumps, ribs and edges that her exotic shape possessed until his mouth finally reached the source of pre trails sweetening his item of worship.

---

It is then that her hand came upon his face - and right between the compound eyes it rubbed the ampious amount of pre-cum she gathered as he was toying with her lower inches down below, just making the already rock-hard tool throb with anticipation, excitement, need for her underling. Gaalan shuddered, but tried to fight the urge to pull his head back as he gave in to the humiliation, one that was especially felt when her slick fingers left trails of the liquid around his antennae too, a primary source of sensation for ones such as him.

When she finally stopped, their insect eyes met. Though seemingly identical, he could see hers were playful and almost mocking, while she could see he was trying to hold in his anger. Just as she wanted - swallow your pride, General. Submit to me, let your Queen use you as she demands.. and then take it all out on me when I allow it.

Gaalan's attention was brought back to his objective when a hand pushed down against the back of his head. Even though mammal parts such as an uvula or tonsils meant nothing for insect biology, he still preferred to stop his Queen from smashing against the back of his mouth with the twelve or so inches of wasp by quickly wrapping one of his hands around the inches just above the pseudoknot. His mandibles were forced to spread almost painfully wide already and he knew she would love to knotfuck his face already at the very beginning of his submission. As he began to prove his love, it quickly became apparent that he would have to make use of his second hand to get her shooting pre right in his maw. After all, not even limitless feelings and dedication could make up for lack of training. Surely if the mammals to the left and to the right didn't have trouble forming coherent thoughts, they would be mentally comparing themselves to Gaalan and how they could do better than him, also without gagging once - despite.. the biological disadvantages. Or perhaps they were already doing that and just lacked the courage to challenge the cocksucking general? The mutt was perhaps too busy laying kisses on her chitin, but the tiger was undoubtedly staring and enjoying the show.

But they didn't matter. Even if both mammals lapped up her inches - as they often did - neither would give her as much pleasure as a clearly dominant, prideful wasp being forced to take on a submissive role in his life for once, one that left him entirely controlled, one where he tightened his grip around her inches and pumped her size harder as his own one was poking right at her abdomen. Gaalan's hand wrapped around it, moving with discretion to try and hide his own actual enjoyment from this, almost as if she didn't know yet.

When she grabbed his antennae, overwhelming his senses and effectively stunning him, the pseudoknot ended up finding its way into his mouth. As it remained at the gates, the man wriggled and writhed in her strong grip, wings buzzing, hands pushing, legs kicking and trying to get away. He only succeeded in that when she let him. With a loud thud he fell to the floor and it took him nearly a minute to put himself back together until those adrenaline-fueled emotions and anger were cleared up and replaced by blissful moaning, heavy throbbing and a small question slowly forcing itself into his mind - 'don't I want her to do it again?'

It would seem that this minute was a 'tad too long for the T'Salyaku Mother, however - eventually, she rose up and stepped over the bug, putting her foot down firmly between his own legs, grinding and nearly squashing his raging erection which could do nothing but throb and grind back against it. By all gods, servitude under her feet felt blissful; the degrading position felt like it was granted by the heavenly creator, a position he could stay in for all eternity.

The room was incredibly stuffy from her pheromones now. As her obedient servant was sucking away at the inches, she was forming quite a little puddle with her juices on the stairs, growing his lust along with her own.

"Go on, my love.. Breed your Queen. Breed me.."

The act of getting up had already escaped his memory by the time he was on his feet before her, holding the heavy abdomen in his hands. No teasing, no playing around, no going gentle anymore - he could barely hold back feral instincts to madly mate and breed with no concern for the recipient. The only sanity he could gather up was used to position his tip against the cushiony pillows of her entrance.. and ease himself in. Slowly, but without a single stop. Not because he wanted to go easy on her, but because of how tight of a fit he was going to be.

The T'Salyaku abdomens stood out from other wasp species in a similar way as their.. breeding tools did. Gaalan's thick, rock-hard inches also had something resembling the half-circular 'plates' present on his posterior - though fortunately for everyone he's ever been inside of, his cock didn't have the same sudden sharp drops. The tiniest of drops between each inch-long vertically-stacked ring, however, could still be felt. Especially when he tugged out of a sensitive partner without much gentleness. It is also from this sensation that the T'Salyaku Queen hissed and chittered back inside her throne, two hands blindly ordering the mammal servants to come over, get on their knees and lap up the fountain of pre leaking down between her legs.

Gaalan's mind liked to wander whenever he was lost in heat - it liked to imagine all the past situations he's been in and also create new ones for the future. But whenever his mind slipped into another pent-up scene, he brought himself and his eyes back to her. To her loving gaze. Each time he returned to it, his next thrust was harder than before, delivered along with a rough groan from the General. If heaven did exist, then he was in it already - not even the most potent narcotics could mimic the pleasure of feeling his member squeezed, held, milked by the cool, wet cushiony insides of the abdomen. The only warm thing inside was the river of pre he was leaking along his continuous way, a sure indicator of just how close he was..

When it hit, he threw his head back and yelled out, though his voice was drowned behind the mad crescendo of his wings, ones that buzzed almost terrifyingly so as their owner reached his climax - though intimidating for one to hear, to the wasps they played a wonderful, yet misunderstood song.

He was allowed to stay in her for as long as he wanted, and though he remained semi-hard for at least a few more minutes, in the end his size ended up slipping out by itself. Dizzy-headed from the mix of a powerful orgasm and stuffiness of the pheromone-infested room, he sat there on his knees, arms down by his side, trying to put himself together and awaiting her response. She was still erect, he could see.

Finally, she got up off her throne - unsteadily, using the slaves by her sides as support.

"Gaalan.."

She spoke, bringing his attention to her just in time to witness the slaves' hands being guided towards her own insectoid prick. Forbidden from licking and ordered to simply stroke, the two breeding drones obeyed and began to pull on the black surface of the, more than a dozen, inches, slowly at first.. but building up a pace fast. Gaalan witnessed his ruler shiver on her legs, becoming weaker and weaker in them again as she grew closer towards her own boiling point; the duo of mammals eyeing him with clear mockery in their eyes, a general put down even lower than them.. but there was also jealousy in their dimmed stares too.

Finally, the general's serenade received a response from the royal wings themselves, all along with a lengthy moan and thick ropes of white wasp semen shot straight forward, straight at the male T'Salyaku, hitting him right between his compound eyes, the antennae, the mandibles, chest.. She turned him into a mess, marking all of his face. And yet.. despite his inner objections to such a degrading, humiliating act, his spent member twitched once, twice against his leg as the liquid warmed his face and began swimming down to leak further below onto his body and the floor.

...

---

...

"Don't 'welcome, ambassador' me, Gaalan. You know why I'm here."

The sky-coloured wasp chittered out, anger in his voice clearly heard, though its presence has already made itself known seconds before when he shoved the door open and stormed inside the red wasp's office unannounced and unscheduled.

"And don't think you can slither out of this by doing something to me. I've filed my report with my Hive, I just need your comment to finish it.. or lack thereof."

"I..", the General started, stepping out from behind his desk, "..am still not sure what is the issue. Care to explain?"

Taking in a deep breath and releasing it along with only bits and pieces of the fire burning within him, the Ambassador crossed his arms and rubbed one of his hands over his face before speaking. Only slightly calmer this time.

"You.. Ugh. For months now we have been working on our cooperation treaty with Bavellan and his people. You know about this, you've been at our meetings.. and I know just what you think about it all. You don't want our peace to happen." The man's tense posture relaxed as he let the accusations go, feeling the heavy stone drop off his heart when he finally released what was on his mind.

"Ambassador, please.. Kal'yu, please! Tell me - just what makes you say that? What makes you think that I could possibly go against our own people? Why would I hurt us all?! I love the Queens just as much as you do, if not a thousand times more! T'Salyakus will benefit from this deal as greatly as you!", he responded to the accusations, a clear aggravation building up underneath his chitin pieces, anger slipping between the cracks and poisoning the heart below.

Him, the great patriot with undying love and loyalty for the Waspkind ever to go against plans to better the Hive lives? Especially as they make peace with the race they've been warring with in the past, forever putting behind all the battles that spilled blood not just theirs, but of his brethren too?

"Out of spite? Our past? Still burning hatred? You tell me, you bloody mez'da. What I know is that the T'Salyakus were in on the talks and you have a history of... You had your own documents about us, about them, about the deals, about our future plans, military, industry and now what? They're on the fucking vermin undermarket! All of it! My secrets are out there for everyone to purchase like in-season strawberries! Some of them we discussed in this office, for Queens' sakes! Even back in 72, you..."

Gaalan listened to his brother from another mother as he vented his frustrations; frustrations that also manifested in slamming his hands on the table and threateningly pointing out things - primarily the T'Saylaku. Halfway through his emotional monologue, the T'Salyaku visibly stopped listening though.. and after thinking for a long moment, his hands reached over towards ink and any piece of paper he could grab, important document or not.

"Keep talking"

Ambassador Ka'lyu didn't seem to understand what the other had understood, though:

"Keep.. Just what the bloody fuck are you doing, Gaalan? Queen R'ova will not rest until she can hang your traitorous head on the wall for the damage you're.."

"Listening"

"We leave"

"Sweep"

.. were the next words to appear on the copy of the T'Salyaku Hive's armoury inventory. Though still furious, the Ambassador quieted down and nodded, even if unsurely. The red male passed him on the way towards the door, exposing his back, showing that the ambassador won't be stabbed just yet.

Indeed, the Hive's specialists did end up detecting a flow of unnatural energy located primarily in Gaalan's office. Its source was eventually found too - a glowing blue-green gem with purple mass flowing inside, sneaked into one of the books located on top of their shelf just to the left of Gaalan's desk. Hidden in one of the stacks not even the most zealous librarian ever actually reaches for.

Ambassador Ka'lyu R'ova wasn't happy with this.

In fact, he felt sick to his stomach. On one hand, he felt relieved his accusations were proven to be false (or at least he tried to believe that the T'Salyaku official didn't betray them), but on the other hand.. Someone had access to Queens-know how many secret conversations conducted inside the offices of the general of the most important Wasp Hives armies. Ka'lyu was promised that the T'Salyakus would look into each and every person who had access to the place, be it a fellow Hive-man or otherwise.. but as he was soon told, the situation went beyond just information theft.

A secret royal convoy on its way to Queen R'ova was attacked; some good men were slaughtered - only few encountered quick death. Even fewer escaped. Nobody but Queen R'ova and her visitor knew about this discreet journey. The Hives would try to order the Rat Clans, an unarguably dominant force in the undermarket, to find out about the information seller, someone who had to be related to the nightly attack.. but none of it would undo the damage they were going to feel from this, Ka'lyu feared. It is not going to completely sever our talks, no, but it will put a cloak of distrust on them, he thought to himself. Let us hope it doesn't escalate.

As for General Gaalan T'Salyaku..

Gaalan reached into one of his cabinets tonight. His chalice, filled to the brim with red liquid, could not be enjoyed at a moment any more perfect than this one - even if half of a dozen other worries were aggressively trying to fill in the empty void left by the one he got rid of today. Gazing at different corners of his quarters, he made a mental note as he took another sip. He had to thank his covert ally for procuring a listening device from.. wherever it came from. It fell out of some nation's inventory after being sucked dry and becoming quite ineffective at storage and transport of magical energies, but it was indistinguishable from a perfectly healthy one at first glance. And it succeeded at the most important task it has been given in its long lifespan - to ensure that red cards will continue to be played.