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"Beeeeeewwwww! Beeeewwwww! Bewwwwwww! Altitude! Altitude!... Altitude! Altitude!" The annunciator screamed in Troth's ear as he fought to gain control of his small spacecraft. Outside, the deafening roar of atmospheric turbulence all but drowned out the warning alarms. Everything was malfunctioning at this point, and the best he could do is choose what position he would like to crash in. The black wolf gritted his teeth and strained against his chest harness as the pod spun towards the ground, which appeared closer with each turn. Each time he tried to right himself an attitude control thruster it either didn't fire or did for too long and turned him way past what he was trying to achieve.

"This is going to be bad" he had time to think, before the ground approach thrusters fired to slow his impact. Unfortunately only half were functional and it sent his small craft lurching sideways in a tumble at high speed. It was roughly at that time that the ejection system decided to malfunction and send him and his seat rocketing from the craft. His only stroke of luck was that it ejected him opposite to the way the craft was moving. Wind ripped past him as he fought the G-forces of the ejection. He only had one hand on the ejection handle between his legs when the system malfunctioned, so his other arm flailed and whipped around from the force. He felt a sharp, hot pain wrench in his shoulder. Through one open eye he glimpsed his small landing craft smash sideways into a rock wall and erupt into a blinding green fireball as the fuel stores erupted. After; blackness.

Troth woke up to the acrid smell of burned fur and pain. Pain all over. He opened his eyes and let out a scream, managing to sputter some blood from his maw in the process. The wolf slowly become lucid. After a few minutes the memories flooded back... the malfunction of his landing craft, the vicious somersaults, and the crash. Well, most of it. He never remembered hitting, but a quick look around revealed a furrow in the ground ended by his ejection seat and torn restraints. He himself was laying in a heap some distance away. Troth turned his head and spat more blood onto the ground. His tongue hurt... must have bit it during the impact. At least the blood wasn't coming from his lungs.

The black wolf slowly began to take stock of his situation. Move right arm; ok good. Move left ar-FUUUCK! Ok, not so good. Try the legs now. Alright that's not too sore, awww shit... the other. He looked down at his left leg to find that the jagged white bone of his tibia sticking up through his pant leg. This was bad. He was trained to treat most injuries but a compound fracture was always tricky, and dealing with one on your own self was damn near impossible. For a moment he laid there resting his head back before realizing that his helmet had been pulled off in the impact. Immediately the fear of foreign atmosphere gripped him before it occurred that it must be OK since he had been breathing it for who knows how long. A second bit of luck he told himself, before passing out.

Dusk and darkness set in quickly. It was hard to tell with his mind clouded by so much pain. About the only thing it didn't hurt to do was blink. That being said, what he felt now was a kiss compared to what he previously woke up to. His spacecraft still burned about a hundred meters from where he lay, providing some light. The wolf's training had the sense to kick in, perhaps prompted by the darkness. With some effort he was able to roll onto his right side and muffle a scream through gritted teeth. Slowly he began to push himself towards his ejection seat. Depending on the way he twisted, a stabbing pain shot through his side. Rib or ribs, he thought, hoping they didn't stab through anything important inside him. After what seemed like forever he reached his ejection seat, which sat upright half buried in the alien soil. With his good hand Troth wiped away some dirt on a side compartment to reveal a red cross. The relief was palpable. He fumbled to remove the case and opened it there on the ground next to him, reaching for the painkiller first and stabbing the ampule into his leg. Relief spread through his body as the chemical numbed nerves through his whole body.

Clarity flooded in behind the pain, and with it his other survival instincts. Without the obstruction of agony, he was able to pop his dislocated shoulder back in, though his arm was very weak and slow to move after. Still, better than it was before. The wolf popped open another compartment and pulled out a small ration pack, and from another a survival kit. He stuffed them in the pouches on his vest and turned his attention to his broken leg. With some bandages he wrapped the bone and stabilized it the best he could. Now, he thought. Shelter.

It took about an hour for him to drag himself to the burning remains of his craft, which was far more obliterated than he had hoped. It felt good to be in the light, a sort of false safety that does little more than illuminate you to everyone else who may be looking. When his landing craft crashed the rock wall, it caused part of it to collapse and give way to a cavern inside. Building a shelter was out of the question, so it was the next best thing.

The wolf dragged himself up into the cavern and pulled a light out of his survival kit. The inside was fairly flat from what he could tell with a few stalagmites-and-tites around. What he could only assume to be ore veins streaked the rest of the rock surface interestingly. A soft breeze blew across the wolf's facefur, telling him there must be another entrance somewhere. He was not interested in finding it, however. What was more important to him right now was turning his light off and resting a bit. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, a dim violet glow seemed to fade in around him in the cavern. Puzzled, he looked out side and then back in. Small glowing worms that he didn't notice before clung all over the cavern walls. "Neat" he heard himself mutter to no one in particular, then thought "I hope they don't burrow into my brain while I sleep", and eventually drifted off to sleep trying not to think about that.

Troth awoke still in darkness. His timepiece was damaged in the crash so it was impossible for him to gauge this planet's day length. The painkiller had worn off, and his shoulder, side, and leg throbbed again. A quick jab from another ampule and he was back in bliss, those doctors knew what they were doing with this stuff, damn, too bad they didn't put more in this kit. The danger was it was difficult to tell if your injuries were getting worse, but at least he could function. The black wolf rubbed a paw down his face and scratched the side of his neck a bit, sighing and looking around. One of the things they taught you was to curb idleness. It was easy to distract yourself from hopelessness and worse if you were busy doing something, no matter how small. Troth took to making a splint from the now-cooled parts of what was left of his landing craft. What a mess it was. Little more than some metal tubes was salvageable. The rest had reduced itself to a molten puddle when the fuel tanks went. He was happy not to be a part of that, optimist that he was.

Now that he had a bit more mobility he decided to check out the cavern he was making home a little more. Not too far, mind you, but the sound of tricking water has been gnawing at him over the past few "days". His ration pack was almost empty, and he wasn't producing any more urine. It made sense to scent mark around the entrance to the cave, at the time at least. He figured he'd have a 50/50 chance on whether it would scare away or attract some unknown beast. Aside from the worms though, he hadn't seen any other form of life yet.

About 50 meters further into the cave, Troth came upon a downward turn in the tunnel. It was gradual at first, and with it grew a wetness on the smooth stone that turned out to be some sort of orange-ish slime upon closer inspection. Feeling like he was pushing his luck going much further with such an injury, the wolf decided to start heading back. For each step up, he slide two back, and the tunnel only got steeper. Panic started to rise in his belly and chest. "Maybe on all fours it'll be easier" he thought, and tried his best despite his leg's rigidity. After a few steps his weak arm slipped out from under him and he landed with a thud on the hard, slimy rock. Slowly, the wolf began to slide down. He managed to roll onto his back before coming to what appeared to be blackness. "no No NO NO NOOO!" he yelled, unable to stop himself on the slick rock. The light clipped to his vest cast no light into the chasm below. When he reached the edge the wolf let out a shrill yelp before he slid off into a steep portion of a tunnel, relieved that there was no drop-off. This was short lived, however, because the fun slip-n-slide that he was on led him with frightening speed down deeper into the cavern. At some point during a curve the wolf rolled onto his belly and back again, which stripped off his light and left it slowly oozing down after him. In a few seconds he was in darkness again, careening towards his doom. Briefly the rock beneath him ceased to exist as the tunnel terminated at a large chamber. When he landed on the hard rock below, the sickening sound of his broken leg snapping completely in two echoed almost as long as the scream that followed.

He awoke some time after, shivering, desperate, knowing that he was now completely and thoroughly fucked. Even if they found his ship the chances of them making it down to save him before he succumbed to his wounds was a far stretch of reality. He was so mad at himself. A few moments before he might have had a chance, and now that was gone. The wolf moved to prop his back up against the wall behind him and contemplate his doom. Just the sight of his mangled leg bleeding onto the floor made his stomach turn. The pain meds were starting to wear off so that was something to look forward too. His only hope was that the internal bleeding killed him first.

In this position Troth could see what he crashed into. The violet glowing worms were numerous in this large cavern. He had to guess it was a good 30 meters wide, 40 long, and maybe 15 high. Spotted here and there on the cavern floor amongst the stalagmites were some sort of elongated egg-shaped pods about 4 meters long and 2 thick. It was one of those that he had crashed into after falling. It might have been more interesting to him if the wolf hadn't been dying.

Such silence was there here. It made his gurgling breathing sound loud and the coughing louder. Unable to move much, Troth had little more to do than stare at the pod in front of him and contemplate his end. A soft, squelching smack made his ears perk up. Oh, something new. Death... hang on a second, I have to check this out. At first he thought it was his mind playing tricks on him, but he heard it again, accompanied by the end of the pod facing him beginning to open into four thickly fleshed pedals. A strong odor assaulted his nose as the slimy insides of the pod exposed themselves like some sort of blooming flower. The wolf's eyes went wide just before a tendril shot out of the dark opening and stuck into his chest. All he could do was pull a stupid face and mutter "Unnnnnnnng...."

An odd feeling washed through his body like a mixture of the painkiller he had used before and drunken vertigo. Weakly he tried to tug at the slippery tendril lodged in his chest, but found his motions sluggish and uncoordinated. It's surface felt warm and slippery to the point it what impossible to grasp. He moaned out in defeat as the thing pumped more of that drug into his body. After a few moments all the pain was washed from him, and he slumped over onto his side drunk on the stuff. In the dim light he could see tentacles slithering from the pod's opening towards his footpaws. They poked and prodded him as they blindly wriggled along his body, worming their way between his toes and up his pant legs. Remarkably he felt only a distant whisper of pain when the tentacles began to coil around his ankles and pull his legs straight, the broken one loosely held together by sinew.

In vain Troth tried to scratch the ground to keep from being pulled in, only succeeding in twisting himself and making it easier for the tentacles to drag him. Heat radiated from the bloomed opening of the pod. He wondered why he hadn't felt it when he first fell into the chamber. The canine was on his back now, looking up at the gaping thing in front of him while being slowly dragged in. His footpaws were the first inside, squelching into a sphincter that the tentacles had come out of. A slimy, translucent goop spilled from the imperfect seal that was formed between the pod's flesh and his own, stinking of a meaty, sour odor. The warmth continued up his body as Troth was engulfed inch by inch, the poor wolf able to feel more tentacles wriggling around inside the pod and tugging at his body.

The fleshy, muscular opening of the pod sucked and squelched as Troth struggled uselessly against the tentacles within, drawing in a breath to send one last scream echoing through the cavern before his head and arms slide inside. Once inside, he was assaulted from all directions by writhing masses of tentacles that jabbed and prodded every inch of his form. Some wrapped around his wrists and pulled his arms behind his back, making his body arch and his broken ribs dig into new parts inside him. When he opened his maw to scream again, a thick tentacle shoved itself between his lips and pressed on down his throat into his windpipe. There it stopped and thickened, inflating like a balloon until his maw was filled with a fleshy bulb that could not be withdrawn. Troth could not fight it any longer, and drew in a breath. Thin fluid filled his lungs and made him cough and gag, eyes watering as he felt as if he was drowning. Instead of drawing air his lungs only brought in more of this watery fluid that ebbed and flowed freely through the hollow tentacle.

Much to the wolf's surprise, he didn't pass out or drown. The fluid must have been oxygenated enough to keep that from happening. "It" didn't want him to die just yet; well... that was comforting. The tentacles tore at his clothing with blunt dexterity that tugged his body to and fro inside the pod, ignoring his feeble protests until he was stripped naked. Outside, the pod began to close its pedals, spitting out his clothes before sealing much like it had been before a wolf had come sliding in against it. A thinner tentacle coiled itself tightly around Troth's broken leg and heated up, creating a strange sensation that made the black furred wolf pause his struggling. For the first time Troth opened his eyes in the strange fluid his body was suspended in, and was surprised when he felt no irritation. It was too dark to see anything but a dim red glow from what he assumed to be the inside surface of the pod. Tentacles were visibly wriggling against the glowing backdrop, blurry from the translucency of the fluid.

It was then that Troth felt one of the tentacles slither up between his butt cheeks and prod against his tailhole as if curious of it. The others kept his appendages held tightly while the one rubbing around his pucker decided it wanted to explore deeper and pressed inside. The syrupy goop inside the pod made the perfect lube, but Troth couldn't help but attempt to whine as the tentacle snaked itself up inside his bowels, following their curve until a few feet of muscular tentacle filled Troth's lower belly. He groaned and tried to clench and squeeze the thing out to no avail. Instead, the tentacle swelled up just behind his pucker like a knot much like the one in his maw did. This is when things got weird. That girthy tentacle occupying his gut thickened further and began to deliver a strangely hot fluid into him. Whatever drug the thing had injected into him left him with most other senses. Troth's eyes rolled back in his head as the substance spread inside him, softening his colon until it gave way when the tentacle twitched, making this new caustic slime spill through the perforations and soak his guts.

While the wolf's insides slowly turned to soup, the other tentacles took no courtesy and continued to prod and probe their quarry's different features. Whatever holes they found, they slithered into. Soon his ears and nose had small tendrils slithering into them. It was more than he could take. He wanted to pass out, tried to WILL himself to pass out, but was not granted the reprieve. It must have been that damned drug. Why was he even still alive? His sluggish thoughts turned over and over in his skull, all while the growing din of sensational pleasure began to make itself obvious to him. "Great" he thought, "this thing is going to make me enjoy being digested from the inside out". Despite his cynicism, the wolf could not help but groan as some stronger waves of pleasure rippled through him. It was easier to give into this than if it were agony, he thought. Maybe that was the point?

His body began to react as expected to the pleasure echoing around in his form. As Troth's shaft swelled within his sheath, the tentacles began to pay his groin more attention. Some coiled around his balls while others slid down into his sheath to make it bulge in the outline of their shapes. The wolf twisted his head and winced his eyes shut as a slender one found his urethra and delved into it, snaking its way in inch by inch all the way into his bladder. With the large tentacle providing fluid to his lungs, it was impossible to howl as the one sounding his member continued to slide further and coil up in his bladder, which eventually gave way from the fluid dissolving his organs. He was filled with the stuff now, and no more seemed to be flowing in. He couldn't tell of that was good or bad, and quite frankly was having difficulty keeping track of his thoughts. By all rights he should be dead by now, but whatever the pod was doing to him was keeping him alive. He felt a presence, nothing tangible, almost like that feeling you get when you think someone is watching you.

The wolf found he no longer needed to breath, which might have had something to do with the fact that his lungs were reduced to a protein rich soup at this point. The rest of him seemed to be intact, however. The tentacles restraining his arms loosened and slipped free, leaving them to just float limply in front of him, paralysed. In this semi-lucid state the canine glanced at the tentacle plugging his muzzle, drawing attention to the bulges travelling down its length. He could feel them stretch his maw open wide as they passed through and into him, bursting forth with small wriggling worms inside him. They wrapped around his bones and absorbed the nutrients that once were his internal organs, growing stronger as they oriented themselves into functional bundles and filled him entirely. Lucidity began to return to him more with the symbiotes' maturation. He was their vehicle, and they were his savior. No death had befallen him, only a deal with the slimy devil himself.

That "presence" that he felt before was blaringly loud now, a conscience that he had no choice but to obey. It willed him to move, and in between those commands he found that he could do as he pleased. Turn this way, turn that way, writhe and struggle. Within the pod, that was the extent of his freedom. Eventually the tentacle plugging his muzzle slid free. Troth felt his face and chest and found nothing out of place. He bent in half to feel his broken leg only to find it mended and working just fine. When he tried to kick the inside of the pod, The Presence wouldn't let him. His senses were coming back to him amplified. Every pulsing, writhing inch of muscular tentacle inside his rear became apparent very quickly, and fuck if it didn't feel good. He closed his eyes and reached down to his groin, groping himself and massaging his sheath. To his surprise his fingers was greeted with a pointed, thick tentacle that slithered out and wrapped affectionately around his paw. His alarm was quenched by a reassurance that seemed to stem from the back of his mind. The mutated wolf opened his eyes to an enhanced view of the inside of the pod, and his curious new shaft. Every inch of it must have been thick with nerves. Each touch and stroke felt like he was stimulating his cockhead before. It didn't take long of this slow motion masturbation for him to reach climax and send volumes of cloudy white substance jetting into the fluid he was immersed in.

He sensed what almost felt like smugness in the afterglow of his first orgasm as a host to this alien. Around him the pod began to move and open much as it did before. The new wolf felt an uncanny urge to head towards the opening, and so he did almost without thinking. The control of his body between him and the symbiote was fluid, but it was clear who had priority. With a splattering plop, he slid from the strange pod and landed on his chest with a tentacle still between his cheeks. Only now did it slide out of him, quicker than he would have liked, and left his pucker gaping and spilling out a semi-clear slime before his sphincter eventually closed. Troth got up onto his hands and knees. He felt good. Really good. Brimming with vigor, one might say. It only took one leap to launch himself up into the tunnel he came spilling out of a few hours ago, and this time he did not find it as slippery as he had before, in fact he found that the slime gave him traction as he climbed up through the tunnel. In short order he was back in the cavern his ship had busted into. The glowing worms seemed to cast far more light than before thanks to his enhanced vision, and though it was still nighttime Troth found that he could easily see the terrain before him just by the light of the stars above. His chest never heaved with breath as he made his way out onto the rocky outcropping next to the cave on account of his lack of lungs, and felt a twinge of pleasure in his groin as he surveyed the area. So many possibilities, so many opportunities to share his gift. He just had to find them. It might have been his lupine instincts that lurched at the thought of hunting again, and his paw reached down to fondle his sheath and its prehensile occupant again. With his other paw he felt over his body and the bundles of long skinny worms that formed his muscles just under his pelt. It felt good, and he looked good too. Skin and matted fur without an ounce of body fat. He was born again, given a second chance at a terrible cost. He thought to himself that he might be able to get used to this though, as he stroked himself off in full view of the landscape below.