FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

(Meta note: I'm not particularly interested in Ratchet. I'm a long-time Sega fan who has never owned any other console. I know Ratchet only from a bunch of clips I have seen on the internet. However, he seems to have stuck in my head, like many of my ideas. And this story to get it out just took much longer than I thought (due to other issues in life) and ended up a bit less clean.)

Unsticking a Ratchet

The first thing I noticed was his hands. He had 5 fingers on each hand!

While this might not seem like a revelation to you, you haven't been living in a part of the galaxy where over 95% of the inhabitants only have three, arranged in a manner similar to the ancient dinosaurs of Earth. It is the most significant and obvious distinction between life in this part of the galaxy and the one I came from.

I don't yet have a theory as to why I'm here. I've been too busy with the business to take very many days off to run around collecting fossils, let alone DNA samples. Besides, if I had that sort of time, I'd keep trying to repair the teleporter, and figure out what sort of error brought me here in the first place.

But anyway, as I was saying. This creature walked in. And he had 5 fingers, which was unusual and very, very human.

Overall, his form reminded me more of a tabby cat: fine orange hair (unlike any from Earth) covering his body, with black stripes on his sides; large pointed ears on top of his head; very feline-shaped face with nose coming to a small snout, and a sharp jaw; even a leonin tail with a tuft at the end.

But other features made it clear he was unlike any other creature from Earth. The most obvious was his feet, which had a bone structure rather a duck, but were furry and without webbing. And there were only three toes. It made me wonder if they would even be possible to even work on -- in my new job, most ignominious compared to xenobiology.

"Welcome!" I offered customarily, my instincts to throw everything novel in a cage having long since faded. "And your name is?"

"Ratchet," he answered with an air of confidence.

"Ah yes, you made an appointment a couple weeks ago, yes?" I asked, bringing it up on the computer -- even though he was also the only customer I had seen this week.

"Yep, that's me," he replied cheerfully. "Nice out of the way place you've got here."

"Thank you," I replied. "I'm glad you made it without getting lost. Now I take it you've had a massage before?"

"Oh, yes," he answered with a worldly sly tone.

"Good. Then first thing's first: I want to body scan you, so I know what I'm doing. Would you step onto this platform, please?" I gestured to the scanner in the corner of the front room, which was nothing more than a raised, circular platform with extra green imprints on it.

"Just don't zap me," he said jovially, as he stepped onto the platform.

The beam swept across, the computer did its job, and the image appeared. His musculature was what I would expect... but seeing the creature below clothing got me to react in a way I didn't expect. I reached toward the screen to touch the virtual image... but I caught myself.

I quickly turned back around, and faced him with as neutral a face as I could put on, veiled with a friendly smile.

"Your muscles don't seem too unusual. 50 bolts, up front, optional tip at the end."

He seemed taken aback. "50 bolts!?" he asked, his ears swivelling as his jaw dropped.

"You came here for the best massage this side of the galaxy. Did you really expect it to be cheap?" (It's amazing -- merely having 5 individual fingers will get you steady work.)

He sighed. "Well, I guess you have a point. Alright."

He rummaged through his expandomatic satchel, pulling out several things (including a wrench bigger than my hand!) before getting out the right number of bolts.

"Thank you. You can go into that room, pick a robe, and change. There is a locker in there for your clothes and gear, also. Come back out, and I'll take you back when you're ready."

"Right."

He went back... and I found myself staring at the muscular wireframe on the computer screen again. Somehow, he was digging up old feelings, that I thought I had left on Earth. There was a sense of familiarity to his anatomy, yes -- but it seemed like more than that. This familiarity threatened to make me forget what job I was doing.

Fortunately, when he sauntered back in wearing a robe -- the white one I expected, with the right sized hole for his tail to stick through-- he turned back into a customer again.

"So where's the table?" he asked.

"This way," I gestured, inviting him into the back room, and closing the door after him.

The incense candles had gone out, so I had to re-light those, but other than that, the grey room with the massage table was ready.

"Anything bothering you particularly?" I asked in my subdued voice, as I watched him lay down on his stomach.

"No, just here for some relaxation," he answered as he got his head comfortable on the pillow, which quickly formed to its shape to support him.

"Okay. I'll start at the top, and work my way down. Just let me know if I press too hard, okay?"

"Mmmk," he mumbled, neck already relaxing. His five-fingered hands hung limply off the sides of the bed. It was hard not to stare at them.

I tried to take my mind off his form by starting my routine. I washed my hands in front of him (that sink was back there for that reason), and then started on his neck. It was as my fingers touched him that his "fur" got a pair of air quotes. Because it was less fur, and more like fuzz -- astonishingly short, and seemed to be less and independent entity than just change the texture of his skin. It tickled my fingers a bit as I started working them in my small circles.

It was so strange to the touch, I was briefly tempted to pet it; but I had a job to do.

As I worked over his neck, moving in my slow circles with middling pressure from my fingertips, he started relaxing. His ears drooped, his tail relaxed, and his breathing slowed. Before long, he looked to be half asleep. When his tail got more and more tempting to stare at, I started some banter to keep my mind from wandering too much.

"Ratchet, huh? Now where have I heard of you?" I asked, not searching my memory much harder than I did when he walked in the door.

"I'm the guy who saved the universe a couple years back," he mumbled. In spite of his register dropping somewhat as he relaxed, his voice remained confident. He was clearly proud of it.

"Oh yes, I heard something about that. I... wasn't here yet."

I gently tried to pull apart the flaps of his robe from under him. He let me, and wiggled out of my way a bit, once he figured out I was going to let it hang down over the floor.

"So where you from?" he murmured as he got situated again. "Haven't seen many as tall as you, before."

"That's a long story," I answered with a sigh, repeating the usual answer. "I don't actually know how I got here, except that it was a teleporter malfunction. But I'm from very far away from here, further than any of my species ever travelled. I'm quite interested by your part of the universe, as a matter of fact. It's much more boring, where I come from." I smiled.

He was feeling my hands work too much to show much emotion, that I could tell. I presumed he was still interested in conversation when he asked, "Whaddaya mean 'boring'?"

"You've got lots of species here -- even robots who apparently have intelligence to threaten the galaxy. Our artificial intelligence matrices can do astrophysics and weather predictions, but are baffled by the logic puzzles a child can solve. Your part of space clearly had a head start in the evolution of mechanical intelligence."

"Well I don't know about that. Robots are just like anyone else, really."

"And that attitude seems common. Forgive my skepticism, I mean no disrespect to their kind, but it's simply hard for me to believe because of where I'm from. I can believe robots could be intelligent and social enough to be granted citizenship in many places. But even if they are citizens, they can't... feel anything."

"Don't be too quick to judge," Ratchet replied slowly, pausing to breathe at his slower pace. "There was Courtney Gears who was -- whoa, hang on!" he suddenly interrupted, and his ears swiveled up.

"What? I was going to work on your back a little." That's why I had taken a brief pause, and was slowly pulling the neck of his robe to his waist.

"Oh... I knew that." He still seemed on edge, and a customer who was not happy was a very dangerous thing in this line of work.

"You want me to stick with your neck?" I asked carefully.

"No no, just... took me by surprise, that's all." He seemed calmer, but his ears -- apparently the most expressive part of him -- were still a little suspicious, pitched up on alert.

"If you say so," I replied diplomatically. "In my line of work, the customer is always right." I then resumed near the bottom of the new robe level, just above the small of his fuzzy back.

He once again relaxed over the next minute or so. Not long after his ears dropped, he asked, "So, teleporter accident, hmm? Do you still have it?"

"Yeah, but it's in pieces now."

"I might be able to fix it for you."

I smiled. "I doubt it," I replied politely. "It's human technology -- that's my species, by the way, we call ourselves 'human' -- and I think it's incompatible with anything here. Not even the power cells work the same. What's your kind called?"

"Lombax," he answered. "And before you doubt it too much, you should see what I can do with a wrench. I built the ship I flew here in." His ears went up again with the smile, matching his challenge.

"Well, I stand corrected then. We can discuss that later -- don't get too worked up, or I won't be able to give you your money's worth," I pointed out.

"Oh... right."

He was quiet for a while, as I felt him start to relax again. It took almost 3 minutes of working on his back -- and a little on his shoulder blades -- for his ears to droop back to complacency.

But just as I was about to move the robe down to his buttocks, he suddenly pushed himself up, and shifted.

"Everything alright?" I asked, trying to avoid being frustrated by his restlessness.

"Yeah, just..." he strained a moment to shift his body around on the table. "-- just getting a little more comfortable. There."

"Anything I can work on?"

"N-no, no, I'm fine, really." But his ears gave him away again. It was clear something was bothering him.

Knowing that it would be a problem sooner or later, but unsure of what was bothering him, I decided to investigate, carefully. "Should I continue on?" I asked.

"Yeah, this is great," he sighed.

I let the silence hang a moment as I moved back into the small of his back. I managed to find a rather strange muscles that seemed to touch the bridge of his spine. Working on it got a groan or two out of him, and then calm again.

Once his calm returned, I asked, "so who was Courtney Gears?"

His ears twitched, but didn't rise. "She was a galactic pop star who exploded. Literally. She was a robot."

I couldn't help but smile at the thought. "I see," I answered, avoiding laughing and messing up my rhythm. "That's too bad. She actually had hit songs, huh?"

"Yeah... and she was involved with Dr. Nefarious. You know, the guy who was going to take over the universe a couple years ago? She had to go. But still... she was... very... ohhh, this feels good."

I couldn't tell whether he wanted to finish that sentence or not, so I asked a different question. "In this galaxy, do non-robots find robots attractive?"

"Yeah. She had millions of fans who weren't made of titanium." Twitch-twitch. A different pattern than last time. And he seemed to go quiet after that.

I just kept kneading for a while, pressing now down his sides where the stripes were with my thumbs. And that made him almost go to sleep again.

When I slid the robe down about another inch or two, and felt over the base of his tail, I remarked, "there's a little tension spot, right down here --" I pressed right above the base of his tail.

"Unh," he groaned. His ears said that was a good groan, not bad, so I kept my fingers on it.

"I didn't expect tension here," I remarked, as I felt the muscles move in reaction to my presses.

"Unh... that's 'cause..." He never finished, but his face now indicated something quite different than relaxation, and his ears said he didn't like it.

I stopped. "You okay?" I asked.

"Yes. Uh, no. Er, yes. I don't know!" he snarled.

And then it occurred to me: what happens to male humans when they get a massage? Something that, if they are not interested in the masseuse, can be embarrassing. Perhaps that was the problem.

"Look, Ratchet," I stated carefully. "I think I know what this is about. Is it because you are getting... excited?"

He looked away from me with a sigh. I took that as a yes.

"Don't worry about it. It just happens sometimes, with some species. Something about my hands touching them, no matter what they may think, gets them a little worked up."

"It's not that," he snapped, "it's... what you would think about it."

That surprised me. In spite of my previous attention to his portrait, I was in the zone. Just another client.

"Think?" I asked with mild, though genuine, surprise. "What do you worry I would think? You think I'd show an interest in you?"

"No! That you wouldn't, and --" He stopped dead, and looked at me, the very opposite of relaxed for a brief moment.

I swallowed quietly, as my stomach knotted, my professionalism slipping away. He actually thought I was attractive!?

"Damn," he suddenly blurted, "I blew it, didn't I. Oh no. Oh no... Look, I like girls. Really, I do. It's just species get really crossed up sometimes, and with the flexibility of this universe, --"

"Ratchet," I interrupted, lowering my voice to calm as my chest tightened, "it's okay."

"No it isn't. You're under a lot of rules. I shouldn't even have said anything." His ears flattened out. Between that and his tense face, I concluded that meant he was upset.

I am usually quite careful about this. I keep my heart in a little box when I'm working on someone. It's part of the "zone", that I use to get good tips, no matter what they may think of me. But this sort of distress pulled on my heartstrings -- and my feelings of affection for him were suddenly pulled up out of that box.

"Ratchet... I'm under a lot of rules. But all those rules are about what I get paid for. If you leave as a customer, and come in through the back door instead, as a friend, then it's my personal life. And... I would like that."

His eyebrows jumped, and his ears swiveled. "You -- you would?" he asked nervously.

I decided now would be the best time to tell him. "Truth be told," I sighed with a nervous smile to hide my racing heart, "you are probably the best looking creature I have met. You remind me of my own kind ... particularly your hands."

Ratchet slid his feet over the edge, sliding under the robe to keep it around his waist, and sat up, looking rather dazed, with a mixture of emotions I couldn't read. "I... I do?" was all he asked.

I smiled. "Yes. You do. In my part of the galaxy, there is only one technologically-advanced species: mine. We are it. We have found other life, much of it intelligent, but none uses technology or tools. Almost every planet which is even capable of life is either barren or has nothing but single-celled life, or maybe plants. And this... dead zone goes as far as we have explored, tens of thousands of lightyears."

By the shock on his face, this was clearly a new concept, relative to this very-well inhabited region of space. "Wow," was all he offered as his eyes went distant for a moment.

"To have met even one of the inhabitants here is a new experience for not just me, but my race. And then, I meet someone with your hands." I held up my hands -- which were a little bit larger than his, but not much. The palm was about the same size, and the fingers were a bit longer.

He looked at them for a long moment. And then looked at his own hands. When he did, I took his hands, with that same fuzz on the wrists and backs, only the palms bare, in mine.

"To my kind, the hands are what makes us, us."

He looked up at me when I took his hand. His eyes looked at me with an expression I cannot describe; but I understood it to be him feeling emotionally touched.

And now that I had done that, in order to maintain my professionalism, it was time to let go. After doing so literally, I offered, "I hope you will tip well," I said, "and... come back again."

"Uh, yeah," he said, finding his confidence back voice, "yeah, I -- I will. Thank you very much, it was a wonderful massage!" Nervously, he stood up, and headed out of the room.

And the robe didn't go with him.

He only took another step before he noticed. "Aah!" he cried, trying to cover his tailhole with his hand, and wrapping his tail around one leg.

But I stared openly, in shock myself, of an opposite kind in similar degree. The picture of Ratchet I had wanted to see since he walked in was now before me. I wished I could look away, but my eyes seemed magnetized.

After my eyes had traversed all of his frozen body -- especially his tail -- from start to finish, I managed to suggest, "don't forget your robe."

That snapped him out of it. He instantly snatched the robe up off the floor, wrapped it around himself hastily, and stepped out to the other side of the curtain.

I didn't follow him; I had the sense that he didn't want me to. And as much as my heart -- well, more my libido -- said "follow him", I didn't want to hurt him, or affect the business. So instead, I stayed in the back and blew out the candles, waiting for him to see himself out.

Only when I heard the tip clank in the jar -- a pretty big one, to my surprise -- and the footsteps exit, did I go back up front. I stared at his body wireframe on the screen for about 5 minutes before I cleared it with a lonely sigh, and tried to lose myself in my astrophysics textbook for the rest of the evening.

***

Honestly, I never expected to see him again. I put him out of my mind within another half dozen customers over the next two or three days. Particularly two strange creatures with green slimy skin and only one eye, in addition to their 3 fingers. They were enough to erase any pleasant ideas I might have about this place.

But one day, as I sat behind my desk out front, doodling calculations in the margins on the textbook, I heard a quiet clatter out behind my shop -- where the parts I was keeping for the transporter were stored.

I hustled back around to the shed, and to my astonishment, found Ratchet putting a small tower of parts together.

"Hey!" I snapped, more surprised than upset, "what are you doing!?"

His ears perked, but he was otherwise calm and assertive as he turned around. "I'm fixing your transporter," he replied jovially.

"I tried to point he did not know what he was doing," said a low and throaty voice from behind a disk up on its end, "but he would not listen to me."

I had to walk around to the other side in order to see what it belonged to: a small robot, no more than 2 feet tall, holding it up.

"And who are you, exactly?" I asked.

"That's Clank," answered Ratchet, "and he's a know-it-all."

"Not everything precisely," insisted the small robot, "but enough to keep him out of trouble if he would only listen to me."

This seemed an awkward continuation of what happened last time I saw them. I was ready to forget the whole thing. "Well look, I appreciate you trying to help with this, but I don't see how you could possibly know how this works."

"Clank says it's a simple high-band energy device which uses a gravometric distortion to create a spatial bridge between two points."

That sounded quite familiar, but also shallow. With the warp drive in this universe, the idea that they understood the theory behind a transporter seemed too plausible. My particular device was another matter.

"I see. But I'm a biologist. I barely know what a gravometric distortion even is. What I do know, however, is that this device requires a lot of energy -- probably more than the sun in this system can put out. And the only reason it worked at all was because we had a very clever way to store that much --"

"A bipolar Minitrox reactor would do it," stated Clank matter-of-factly.

I was surprised at this confidence. "Are you sure? I mean, this is alien technology from your perspective."

"Surely you have seen the biological diversity of species in this galaxy," explained the robot. "They are all 'alien' to one another. But after you've seen enough, would you not find it easier to deal with the next one? Particularly when it's relatively primitive."

I didn't like the word "primitive" applied to some of the most advanced technology on Earth, but I had to admit: compared to sentient robots, it certainly was applicable.

"I suppose," I replied, mulling it over, "but the issue here is less about sophistication, and more about compatibility. Can your -- whatever reactor, feed it power correctly?"

"I don't see why it should not," replied Clank -- with the only tone it seemed he had. "The main issue would be whether we can interface it with the power regulator without causing an overload." He turned to Ratchet. "I think we need a Double-Helix Transfer Coil."

Ratchet seemed surprised. "That's gonna be a lot of bolts."

"How many?" I asked.

"Probably more than a month's rent on your shop," Clank answered.

"I own my shop," I replied. "Barely. Maybe I can afford it."

"We'll see what we can dig up first, okay?" interrupted Ratchet. "Give us a couple days. C'mon clank, let's go." And without another thought, they walked out.

Looking at the tower of parts, I was pretty sure did not resemble the original. That couldn't be right. Yet, I found a knot forming in my stomach. The thought of going home, after almost 8 years, began to seem real. No more stares; no more strange creatures; no more three fingers, green skin, or one-eyed cyclopses. My kind, at last. To see a face I could recognize again...

I closed the shop that day. I don't know what came over me, but I found myself crying, missing home almost more than I had since I arrived here. All the things I could dimly remember -- and how dimly they were remembered seemed to make them ever more distant and precious. What would it be like, when I got back home? Would anyone recognize me? Did they presume I was dead? They must have by now. What about my friends? My family? My possessions? And how many other explorers met similar fates from a shared cause as yet undiscovered?

It took pretty much until sunset before I realized that the transporter was no good until I did the calculations. And that got me to push ahead with the textbook, well into the night.

I woke up the next morning with my nose in it, and drool all over the page. (Fortunately, it wasn't an important page.)

Not long after I woke up, I wandered into the shed, and Ratchet was back, working on it again. "I got it!" he excitedly exclaimed, as he finished attaching a heavy, cylindrical device with a blue glow drifting through a transparent surface to a rather bizarre set of black and grey rails.

"I see," I said, starting to feel something between anticipation and guilt. "What do I owe you for that transfer thing?"

"Don't worry about it," he offered with an easy smile.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Look, when you save the universe, more than once," he added with sarcasm (or was it embarrassment?), "you can afford nice things, okay?" He seemed to have the very opposite of entitlement.

"Well, if you say so," I replied, certainly not one to look a gift reactor in the flow junction.

I watched nervously as he checked that four of the many connectors were plugged into the pipes of the device. Rather ominously, they barely seemed to fit inside. It took a mallet to finalize their interface.

"Well, here goes nothi--"

"Could something bad happen?" I interrupted.

"While the chances are small," Clank stated calmly (what other tone did he have?), "there is a remote possibility that there will be a leak in the transfer coil, and the radiation from the escaping plasma will vaporize us in a fraction of a second."

"Well thank you," I growled, knowing that the moment the device was taken apart, there was a risk of a plasma leak. Talk about violating manufacturers' assumptions...

"Here goes," said Ratchet, his voice and ears rising as he typed on the reactor's control pad.

And then... The plasma circuitry of the transporter came to life. While it glowed blue instead of its usual yellow, it was still was worthy of rejoicing to see it glow at all. The small console attached to it indicated the device was ready.

Just seeing that series of letters on the display gave me a surge of joy; it was something I thought I would never see. "It works!" I cried out jubilantly. "It works!!" I had to even jump up and down three times before I got ahold of myself.

They just stared at me, because I yelled that in my native tongue, rather than in any language they understood.

"Um, it is running," I stated calmly. "But won't know if it will actually function until I do the calculations."

"Calculations?" asked Clank.

"To figure out where it should send me, to get back home."

"If you would allow me to examine those calculations, perhaps I would be able to assist with them," he stated calmly.

"Um, okay," I answered, my heart racing as I went to get the book. I could be getting home practically tomorrow if he could be just as much help as Ratchet was...

"Here you go," I said as I offered it to him. It was only about a third as tall as he was, but he hefted it with ease, and began turning pages.

"Your writing system is not intuitive," he remarked.

"I'm not surprised," was all I could answer, as I waited for a more promising verdict.

"Well Clank? Whaddya think?" asked Ratchet after Clank turned about 20 pages.

"I will need more time to study it."

"You have it," I said without thinking.

"Why don't you go study... somewhere else?" asked Ratchet, tone of voice dropping a little bit. "I'd like to, uh, talk, in private, if you don't mind."

Clank, without replying, got to his feet -- using a helicopter rotor which sprang briefly from his head! -- and walked out.

My joy was still in my breast. It is what mixed my interest, as I looked at Ratchet intently, with a desire to repay him. I knew just how to do that, given the interest in me he had admitted previously.

But I suspected he wished to say something first. When he didn't after several seconds, I tried to prod him. "Thank you for everything you're doing, Ratchet," I said genuinely. "I mean that. It's given me hope that I may yet meet my kind again before I die. ... Are you sure there isn't something I can do for you in return?"

His ears twitched. "Well, yeah, I guess there is," he answered with a smile -- a smile which was contradicted somewhat by his entire face seeming to tense up. "Um... I'd like to know what else those five fingers can do."

My stomach knotted -- in a good way, I was sure. "Okay," I answered calmly, getting back my careful masseuse demeanor to pull over my accelerating pulse. "Let's go back inside. You can wash your hands in the back room."

I walked in, he hustled faster. I didn't see Clank anywhere, but I presumed that he had stayed with Ratchet for long enough, they would be able to find each other again quite easily. That was the last thing I should be thinking about right now

Ratchet was almost done washing his hands by the time I got inside. He quickly laid back down on the massage table, as I washed mine.

"Uh... you'll need to get a robe on," I pointed out. He was wearing his previous clothes. "Otherwise, I can't work on anything."

"Oh! Right." He immediately got up, walked out with a bit of a blush, or so I thought I saw. After a moment, he came back in wearing the same robe as last time, and the blush was gone.

I knew I had to approach this carefully. He seemed a little skittish about this, in spite of his interest. "So... do you want me to start in the same spot I did last time, or somewhere else?" I asked cautiously, trying hard not to make my voice lead toward "somewhere else".

"Um... why don't you go back to the tail, where you were?"

"I can do that," I replied calmly, gently sliding his robe back down to his buttocks.

"Y-y-you can take it... off," he nervously added.

When he said that, I couldn't help myself. I was so excited, I pulled it all the way back past his feet, letting it hang for a brief second before falling off the table completely. Ratchet was naked at last -- and he seemed nervous, but not afraid. The room was warm, so I didn't think it was the temperature.

I gently started massaging in exactly the same spot as last time. He seemed to enjoy it, but rather than relaxed, it was clear from his ears -- and more significantly, his tail -- that he was getting excited.

"Like that?" I asked.

"Mmmm, don't stop," was his only answer.

Once he started shifting a little again, I instinctively -- but gently -- touched the small hairless ring under his tail. He didn't seem to notice, really. And that failure to react put all sorts of ideas in my head.

I resumed rubbing the muscles at the base of his tail with one hand, and with the other, I reached over and put a little bit of oil on my thumb and index finger.

"Ratchet," I asked nervously, "I would like to try something. Tell me if you don't like it, okay?"

"Mmmm, okay," he groaned.

I then took my fingers, and started running them around and around the pink ring.

"Feel good?"

"Yeah," he sighed. But it didn't seem all that good, based on the reaction. However, something did start to change after a couple minutes. I started to feel a weak shifting sensation on the tissue, as if some muscles underneath were twitching in a slow pattern I could barely feel.

Muscles that I wanted to get under my fingers.

Watching his expression, I slowly slid my oiled index finger about a quarter of an inch past the pink ring. The response was a quiet grunt, and his ears shot up, which made my heart skip.

"Is that bad?" I asked nervously.

"No," he sighed, breathing heavier.

"Okay," I answered, trying to keep my voice reassuring. It was quite hard, as aroused I was getting. The tiny movements turned out to be a soft throbbing on my finger. In fact, as I slid it in a little more, I crossed a boundary point, and all of a sudden, the sensation on my digit became quite extraordinary.

It was a rhythmic, gentle perfectly-spaced squeezing, that if I had to guess was timed to his heartbeat. It was a pair of muscles right past the end of the ring that seemed to do this -- and just the feeling of it on my finger began to get my own blood pumping. It was a most exotic and erotic sensation.

"Tell me, Rachet," I asked, breath accelerating a little bit beyond my control, "have you ever had... this done before?"

"Don't stop," he repeated.

Not caring that he dodged the question, I got my finger in up to my last knuckle, and after another groan, decided that was deep enough. As I enjoyed the amazing throbbing his guts transmitted -- even on my finger, it was marvelous -- I kept sliding my finger in and out, gently. I figured that was the best way to keep this sensation running.

More than that, he seemed to like the resistance -- or maybe it was just the sensation his skin was sending back to him of something completely hairless. I wasn't sure what it was. All I knew was that it was in time to the squeezes also, though it seemed so minor compared to my own experience it barely registered.

More and more, I was sorely tempted to put something else in there -- but that would be over the line.

Or would it?

At the very least, I would have to work up to it. And that meant I had to at least get a lay of the land first.

I withdrew my finger, and asked quietly, "Ratchet, are you excited?"

"Very," he panted eagerly.

"Then would you please roll onto your back?"

It took him a moment to do so, but he slowly got up, and then with his arms, pivoted himself half way around, and landed on his back. His eyes looked up at me with a look either nervous or aroused, I couldn't tell. There was a smile on his face, which clashed with his flat ears.

But more than that, I was looking down at what was between his legs: a fairly small and furry penis of a sheath-like design, whose red skin was now rather strongly sticking out. It was about 3 inches long, two of which were covered with the peach fuzz across the rest of him. At first, I thought it was small, but biology suggested otherwise. I knew that, the closest ancestor of humanity on Earth has a penis roughly that size when erect, so perhaps it was large for a creature only 4 feet high.

I apparently stared at it for longer than I thought, because I heard him ask, "what do you think?" His voice seemed just as confident as before, in spite of his mixed expression.

That snapped me out of it. "It's... good looking," I answered, at a bit of a loss for words. All I knew about it was that the exposed skin on the tip was calling out for an extra special massage.

I turned around, and washed my hands in the sink, and then re-applied the lubricant to my thumb and index finger. I walked back over to him, and all I said was, "I hope you like this."

I gently took the pink tip between my lubed fingers, and slowly started rubbing around and around it.

He gasped and convulsed. Just as I was about to stop, he suddenly relaxed and gasped, "ohyes."

I kept rubbing, and his ears -- and now his tail -- seemed to indicate he was getting more and more -- excited? Nervous? Aroused? It was well beyond anything I had yet seen. His dick stayed the same size, however, even as it continued to gently throb. Since he didn't seem to be levelling out, I just presumed that his arousal response worked differently, and kept rubbing.

Suddenly, he groaned, "faster." So, I rubbed with less pressure and more vigorous strokes, changing from small circles to more of an up-and-down motion familiar to many human males.

That got him panting -- and after a mere 15 seconds, his eyes suddenly snapped open, and his ears twitched as he let out a long groan.

And about three second later, a small dribble of viscous clear fluid squirted out of his tip. It ended up landing on the floor beside me, almost hitting my shirt.

I reacted and stopped a moment, since if his orgasmic response was anything like mine, he didn't want to be stimulated anymore. I just let him catch his breath -- and watched his eyes wander around the ceiling for a moment. I wondered what he was feeling. It certainly seemed to feel good, but was it at all related to what humans feel?

It was a moment of eyes wandering before he leaned up and looked at me, with a rather interesting smile on his face. "Thanks a lot," he sighed.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," I replied, trying to avoid stretching my pants too far with a tremendous hard-on... which I was now ready to get rid of. "So... would you mind if I tried something else? I'd like to feel... that, too." I had no idea what they called an orgasm.

He smiled. "Of course," he answered smoothly, "what do you have in mind?"

I knew exactly what I wanted. Whether he could handle it was another question, but I really, really wanted to try. Since he was only 3 inches long, my nervousness was compounded with my sense of him perceiving mine as a monstrosity.

I walked toward his head, eyes tracking me, and then pulled out my shirt tails from my pants. "Well, Ratchet, you have such a wonderful body, particularly on the inside -- there is nothing like it where I come from. I am just dying to try something, if you aren't scared by it, we --"

"C'mon, I'm not scared of anything," he replied with his joviality of several minutes ago.

In a bit of a rush, I unbuttoned my pants, but didn't unzip them. "Well, I'm worried you will be when you see how big it is. Here, let me show you." I gently took his wrist, and once he let me, I put it inside my jeans.

He did a bit of random touching and squeezing before I turned his hand downward, and he found it. When he gripped it twice, it was all I could do to avoid swooning -- and in contrast, his ears quickly flattened.

"Oh, wow..." was all he could say, with a bit of a gulp.

For the first time in my life, I was embarrassed because I was too big. Oh what a mixed up place this was...

"Um, do you think it will work? Or is it too big?" I asked, hoping I wasn't blushing.

"I... I can deal with it," he stated. His ears seemed less sure.

"Really?" I asked, embarrassment twisting into anticipation.

"Yeah. At least, I want to try," he insisted.

My stomach filled with butterflies. "Okay... well, um, spread your legs apart. I guess."

I wasn't sure quite how to proceed, but it at least seemed logical. However, he seemed to have great confidence in me, as he promptly pulled up his knees, and then spread his legs -- even moving his tail out of the way in a motion that seemed entirely thoughtless.

I moved into position, lust drawing me toward that exposed pink tailhole, imagination already priming me for the throbbing sensations to be found therein. But my stomach held me back, once more.

"Look, I don't want to hurt you," I insisted. "So just... tell me if it's too much, okay?"

"Okay," he said. He didn't sound much more relaxed, unfortunately. But I could deal with that.

"You have to relax," I insisted gently, petting his chest. "If you don't, it will be worse. Just relax. Relax..." I repeated.

As I petted, he did seem to relax, slowly. His breathing slowed, then his ears drooped. Once they were finally calm, I got my pants down, and slathered the lube onto my member. I had no idea how much to use, so I put on too much with my left hand, while I kept petting his chest with my right.

"I'll go slow, okay? I want to make sure you're ready."

"I'm ready," he stated calmly. "I wanna try this. See if it's better than -- er, my toys."

I swallowed. If those toys were based on himself, then boy was he in for a surprise...

I walked around behind him, and first touched the ring, letting him react. Then, I slowly started pushing inside of him. Just like before, he didn't really react until I got about a quarter of an inch past the pink ring, and then his ears twitched and he groaned.

I slowed down, but slid in deeper, watching his ears less and feeling what he was doing more. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate as I started to feel sensations transmitted up it most exotic, unlike the guts of my own kind. It was a sort of they were trying to massage it. It was squeezes, but rather than contractions all at once, it seemed more like a corkscrew pattern. And it was much more motion than human guts could muster.

"Wonderful," I panted, and reflexively slid all the way in.

"Unh!" He cried out.

"I'm sorry, too far?!" I gasped.

He breathed too. "N-no," he answered through faster breath.

"Okay... I'll try to slow down," I breathed. And then only withdrew a little before I thrust again -- a withdrawal that felt like it would make me come on the spot, almost, as the rippling winding muscles squeezed me.

"Just a couple more," I sighed, and pushed back in. He groaned.

I pulled out slowly, and the sensation brought me to the brink.

I pushed in one more time, and just the throbbing deep inside him, swirling around in patterns on my hard cock, finally did the trick.

I just sort of leaned forward on him as my orgasm rushed through me, a wave making me almost dizzy practically. When it was over a couple seconds later, I looked down at Ratchet, and though he was still in stress, he was smiling back up at me. He found happiness where I expected him to feel just great discomfort.

It took me a moment of just staring at him, while my mind drifted, before I withdrew, and went over to the sink to clean up. "There is a shower in the corner of the changing room," I stated rather tiredly as I turned the sink on, and stood on my tiptoes. I heard him get up, and say, "right."

***

After I was cleaned up, I headed back out to the shop, and found clank peacefully reading. He was turning pages very fast, one every couple of seconds. I didn't say anything, but he stated without looking up, "I'm making some progress. Perhaps you could explain the form of this equation, just to make sure I understand it?"

I took a look at it. It seemed to be much further along than I was, but I did recognize the general form. "That is what we call 'partial differential'. The, uh..." It took me a moment to come up with words I knew in that language. "The slope, .... and slope-of-slope, and the value on the curve are bounded by the same equation." I pointed out the various marks indicating what each term was.

"I see. In that case, I believe I understand the notation well enough to do a calculation for you. But I would need to know where your home planet is, exactly."

That, at least, was easy. "If the computer core wasn't damaged, then it should have pre-programmed coordinates for a factory return. I have no idea where that is, but it will certainly be on Earth, at least. If we create a path with that as the end point, then all we need to do is determine where we are right now. I still don't really know where this galaxy is relative to mine."

"Nothing I have seen in this book suggests a location. However, I would like to examine the contents of the device memory. Perhaps the algorithm it uses can provide a hypothesis."

"Sure," I said with a shrug.

Ratchet emerged shortly after that, so I brought him up to speed. "Clank says he can do the calculation, but only if he knows where we are compared to Earth. Do you have any idea where that might be?"

"No... but maybe I know someone who does."

"Who?" I asked.

"We don't need him," interrupted Clank after typing at the console for a moment, "because this device seems to have tracked part of your path."

I gasped. "What!? Impossible! I searched through device memory"

"It is not enough to construct a path on its own, but it is information which may help."

He froze for a moment, completely. I presumed he was doing a calculation.

"Unfortunately, it seems that the last transport was far its range. I see no possible way to return." His voice was flat, but his metal eyelids seemed sympathetic.

"Hang on, Clank," interrupted Ratchet, "how far short is it?"

Clank seemed to freeze for about 10 seconds that time. "Approximately twenty two million light years," he finally answered.

I was shocked, but only for a moment. "Wait, you mean I'm in another galaxy entirely?"

"That is correct."

"Well that's impossible to make up," I sighed. It seemed I was not going home after all.

"Not even my hyperdrive can jump that, I'm afraid," Ratchet added with a bit of a weak smile.

Silence fell, as my risen hopes slowly floated down to the ground, and a quiet melancholy set in. It was back to where I started before I met these two: trapped here for the rest of my life, as a masseuse.

As I was about to thank them for helping me, and Ratchet for all his kindness, Clank suddenly stated out of the blue, "that is odd."

"What?" Ratchet asked.

"That distance is so vast, I don't see how it is possible for any teleportation device of this design to traverse it, no matter what sort of accident or miscalculation may have occurred."

"Well I know it's possible," I grumbled. "I'm definitely here."

"I don't understand how," insisted Clank, calm as always. "The calculation I have done suggests that constructing such a path through space would require millions of times more energy than any device with this type of power source could produce. There must have been some sort of anomaly that gave you additional energy. Ratchet, could I look at your star map?"

The two of them walked toward the lombax's ship. While my level of dismay was still rising, I followed nonetheless. By now it was not an expectation of being able to get home that brought me to my feet, but rather a morbid curiosity about the sort of accident that might have brought me here. How difficult would it be for the next xenobiologist to avoid?

Ratchet opened the door to his ship -- which seemed like the space-faring equivalent of a junk car on the outside, but had a simple and clean interior. It was only six feet tall, and the monitor was so close to his face, I couldn't see anything anyway. I just stood and listened.

"Where exactly did you land?" Clank asked, probably to me. "It wasn't on this planet, I take it."

"No, it was some world called... Veldin. 8 cycles of this planet ago."

"I grew up there. Do you remember the time of year?" Ratchet asked.

Of course Clank would need to know that; he needed to know exactly where that planet was, which included where in its orbit. I thought hard, but had trouble. "Uh... not exactly. I've never quite gotten around to keeping time, or understanding seasons, except here."

"What was the weather like?"

"Um... it was rather hot, I think. And it was very cloudy with purple clouds, but no rain."

"If we presume it was in the very middle of the season," continued Clank, ".... zoom out... okay, how far will it go?"

"I don't know..."

"Let's try... that will do. So the path would look something like... this."

"Hang on," blurted Ratchet, "that goes right through the center of this other galaxy!"

They said it at the same time: "a black hole!"

The thought astonished me. It made perfect sense.

From what little I had done with general relativity, working my way through the book, that would certainly do it. The event horizon of a black hole was so distorted by the central mass, all sorts of shapes, folds, and patterns were created by the gravitational field, which would extend for hundreds or thousands of light years.

When considering the black holes at the center of galaxies, millions of times the mass of any of their stars, their distortions could easily make a simple transporter path of warped space turn a wide arc-- even wide enough to add 22 million light years to the trip!

"So that's it, huh?" I asked in mild awe.

"It would appear so. Which means all you need to do in order to get home is hit that same spot, at the same velocity you used to get here."

"But that information was lost, wasn't it?"

"True. However, I may be able to estimate a return path. It will require some time, however -- and for us to visit Veldin."

Ratchet's ears perked. "No objection here," he said with a smile, turning to me.

"And I take it that trip is not a big deal because of your hyper drive?" I confirmed.

"Not at all!" he replied cheerfully.

My hopes, having just been dashed, still hesitated to rise. Whatever chance I had was not in my gut, but straight, rational mathematical odds in my brain. They didn't feel good, but they did feel better than zero, and that was all I needed.

"I hope I'll fit," I was all I said, as I went to lock up the shop. I figured I had made enough money this month to afford a closing of a couple days, even if this didn't work out.

I turned off the transporter, and hefted it toward his ship. Ratchet ran over and helped me when he saw me lift it, but it didn't help all that much. At least the thought counted. I decided that I should probably take my books along with me too, just in case they would be needed.

"I'm ready -- but see if you can keep the trip short, okay? I don't want to leave too many customers stuck."

Ratchet smiled. "Don't worry about that. You'll be out of here in no time, if Clank has an idea."

I still couldn't believe in it, but I could at least smile as I squeezed into his ship.

***

It turned out that we didn't land on Veldin, after the several hour flight. Instead, Clank just told Ratchet to orbit it.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Ratchet asked.

I wasn't sure. The planet seemed like it was mostly sand and rock, based on the surprisingly high amount of oranges and golds in addition to the significant areas green.

"I'm afraid I'd like to see more blue in it," I replied.

"Blue?!" Ratchet exclaimed, quite perplexed. "What the heck rock is blue?"

"Water makes an oxygen atmosphere blue," I replied, "when there's a lot of it."

He gave me a quizzical look, and then shrugged it off. "Clank, what do we need to be here for?"

"I am here in order to look up the weather, in order to pin the date down more precisely."

"Fine. So I guess we'll just leave you to it?"

Clank took over the computer without another word, so I presumed that was a yes.

Ratchet slid off the back bench, and joined me in the small cargo area, which I could comfortably sit in, but not stand in. "I guess we just wait for him to finish," he stated calmly.

"Any ideas while I wait?" I asked. I meant nothing by it when I said it, but 5 seconds later, I couldn't help but smile at how it sounded.

He smiled back. "I don't have any -- except some that are a bad idea."

"Well I wasn't thinking that," I answered. "But... how about just a little work on your ears?"

Ratchet's ears responded -- perhaps liking the idea. "Well, if you want to. I mean, you were good with my back."

I had him lay down, and put his head in my lap, and so I started rubbing, petting, brushing, and similar motions on his ears. I don't know why, but I just found them to be the most adorable things about him -- as opposed to the most intriguing thing, which continued to be the down-like fur that covered him.

Since I didn't use a lot of pressure, I didn't think of it as work. It was sort of like molding clay: even if you don't mean to make something out of it, just the act of semi-conscious manipulation of something is relaxing, and makes the time go by.

"How many of your kind are there?" I asked.

"Just me, I'm afraid," he answered.

That surprised me. He had to have come from somewhere...

"I'm sorry," I said, not sure what to say.

"Don't worry about it. I get by. Courtney Gears... you... knowing that no one else in the entire universe is like you is simply an invitation to try things. Maybe even ones that aren't a girl, once in a while."

I smiled. "I never really thought about how humans being the only species might cause us to be more... straight laced, about such matters. But I suppose I could see tha--"

The thought was stomped on by the door sliding open. "I have the answer," stated a voice -- and when I looked up, Clank was looking at me, eye to eye. Ratchet opened his eyes.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I believe I have found the day, but there is a 7% chance I am wrong."

"I'm willing to take that," I stated somewhat boldly.

"In that case, I will calculate the new trajectory."

I decided to make myself busy by getting the machine set up in the cargo bay. Ratchet followed me, but seemed hesitant about it.

As I got the machine started up, and was about to ask for the coordinates from Clank, Ratchet stopped me. "Uh, before you go," he stated nervously, "um, would you consider... giving me something to remember you by?"

I couldn't help but smile, feeling a surge of warm affection. "Uh... I don't know what I would give you, but I would like the idea."

"Well, um, how about a scan... of... you know what."

That thought made me feel suddenly naked. "Scan?" I repeated.

"All you have to do is just ... make it big again," he whispered.

"Well hang on, what are you going to do with it?"

Now he got quiet and shy. He gave a smile that one would expect from a perverted teenager. "Just... use it as a mold. I swear, no one will know about it."

I didn't like it... but just looking at him reminded me why it was that I got into the position of letting him see -- and more -- that particularly private piece of me anyway. His eyes, just like his hand, seemed to radiate familiarity. He was no more exotic than the cartoon characters a human would draw, really. Compared to the strange life forms I had seen in this part of the galaxy, that was quite a statement.

That warmth toward him took a rather dramatic turn, when he gave me that smile. And before I knew what I was thinking, my emotions got ahold of me, and I whispered back, "I'll scan it, if you help me make it big."

"Are you two ready back there?" called Clank.

"Uh, Clank?" I called back, "I'm not quite sure if I want to do this yet." I tried to signal Ratchet to follow along.

But he didn't seem to get it. The result was a long enough silence for Clank to ask, "whatever are you talking about?"

"Uh, let me just talk to him Clank," Ratchet finally said, "you can stay up there."

"Why? So he can give you another massage?"

I glared at Ratchet. "Did you tell him!?" I whispered.

"No!" he whispered back in a stage whisper. "He can't possibly know."

Clank walked back toward us. "I don't know anything," he stated with his standard robotic tone of voice, "but I can make deductions and observations. And I have noticed that Ratchet is in one of those moods lately, around you. I don't believe I have seen Ratchet react that way to anyone since Miss Courtney Gears blew up."

"Hey!" Ratchet snapped, "not true!"

"It's not true that you had the best massage of your life and it seems to have rubbed off on your heart?"

Ratchet sighed, and gave clank a glare with his hands on his hips. But didn't answer the question.

"I'll just leave you two alone for a while to talk, if that is what you want. Just don't break anything."

"Very funny," I snapped, his comment making me feel a little embarrassed about it.

Clank, however, did close the cargo bay doors completely.

"I suppose you trust him, huh?" I asked rather blandly, to avoid venting my embarrassment and frustration on the lombax.

"I trust him with my life. He's saved it more than once."

"But do you trust him with your secrets?" I asked rather pointedly.

"I don't like to tell him, but if he finds out, then yeah, I guess."

"Just remember: you're the one who will have to keep this thing a secret after I'm gone. If I did tell anyone about you, they would never believe me." I couldn't help but smile at the thought of trying to explain where I was, without sounding like I was pitching a Sci-Fi short story.

"Then let me worry about that. I'd really like to have this."

"Well then," I replied with a little anticipation, "are you willing to work for it?"

He nodded his head, with that look in his eyes. It was a look of interest.

"Okay then. The fastest way is... lick it for a while." I nervously unzipped the fly of my pants, and pulled it out. It was part way erect already, and my excitement was not tempered by a nagging feeling that Clank would re-open that door.

Ratchet sat down, while I got on my knees, as high as the low ceiling would let me comfortably. Ratchet just looked at the piece of flesh before him. He brought his head close, and sniffed it.

I presumed that was hesitation; I had no idea how it would smell to him, given the strange things in this galaxy. "You don't have to do it very long," I encouraged, heart racing with anticipation. "Just squeeze gently, and pull the skin back."

Ratchet took it, and squeezed -- not hard, but definitely more force than was necessary -- and slid back the skin to reveal the pink flesh at the tip. The squeeze was not at all unpleasant.

"Stop," I blurted just in time, as he was about to stretch it too far. He barely stopped in time.

"Okay, now, just give it a lick," I said nervously, already gaining length just from the handling.

He sniffed it again -- more curiosity than distaste -- closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and gave me a single stroke with his tongue.

I almost shivered at the sensation. His tongue was unlike any texture I had even felt, and it made me groan without thinking. "Good," I gasped. "More, please."

Another lick followed. And then another. The smooth and ribbed tongue of the lombax gave my sensitive tip many, many caresses. I felt like I could feel all of the tiny ridges and ripples on its surface, so high was the sensory experience I was receiving.

"Keep going," I just repeated. "Keep going... keep going..." And lick, after lick, after wonderful lick, he did.

I felt myself get to the base of Mount Orgasm. It wouldn't take much to push me up and over. Unless he wanted to measure it while I deflated quickly after, I decided that was about enough.

"Okay, there," I sighed, "measure it."

Ratchet stopped, and reached back behind him to get what looked like a wrench with a six inch span and electronics all over the sides. Though I was nervous looking at it, I felt better 2 seconds later when he swiped my private parts through the middle of it without touching them, and then pressed a couple buttons.

"Got it," he said with a smile -- and perhaps a hint of a blush.

"Um, Ratchet, would you mind --"

I didn't even finish. He got back down and started licking again, just as fast as before.

"Oh-thank-you," I gasped.

He seemed to enjoy doing it, and that made me enjoy it all the more. As a result, as hard as I already was, and as wonderful as that was, it wasn't a minute later that I climaxed. I felt the rush through me, and savored it with a groan.

Because it wasn't in his mouth, when my cum came out, it just squirted out onto the floor. I felt his tongue lap at the first squirt, but then back up and let the rest of my load land on the padded floor. I squeezed myself couple more times when he backed away to finish.

"Thank you," I repeated rather dumbly, when I was satisfied.

He beamed up at me. "Happy to do it," he answered. His ears were in a rather odd position; perhaps it was genuine happiness.

"And I hope you enjoy... your new toy," I added with a genuine smile of my own.

"You really don't mind?" he asked again.

"I expect it will never come back to haunt me from the other side of the galaxy," I replied with a smile. "And it's... sort of an honor, in a way. I mean, winning the contest for the biggest --" I suddenly lost the word in their language. I just continued on "-- thing, is something that many of my kind would envy."

He gave a rather nervous laugh. "I'm glad. I think I will be very happy with it."

I knew it was time. I went over to the console of the running transporter, and called, "Clank? We're ready for the coordinates!"

The door opened instantly. "Your starting location is: 5-6-3--"

I wasn't even at the keypad yet. "Hang on!... Okay, now I'm ready." "5-6-3-0-4 ... 5-9-8-2-1 ... 4-6-6-1-8 ... 1-1-3-2-3 ... 1-1-2-8-7."

I typed in all those numbers. "Okay... looks like... well, it looks weird."

"Now just tell it the destination is for a factory repair."

I chose that, and it painted a path that went past half the galaxy, and stopped in the middle of the outer rim -- just like the original calculation probably looked starting from Earth.

"Okay, it's set," I confirmed.

I turned around, and without thinking, gave Ratchet a hug. He apparently, was unaccustomed, but smiled and tolerated it well, with a little bracing.

"I thank you both incredibly... and I will miss this place. If it matters any, you may have the deed to my shop. It's in a vault on the bottom floor. The code is 46264338."

"Digits of Pi?" asked Clank.

I smiled. "Starting at the 20th. At least he gets the joke. Anyway, I will miss you both... and thank you."

And with my heart racing, I picked up my textbook, turned my back on them, and pressed the big orange button.

The field took about 10 seconds to form, a large shimmering hole about a meter across. It was a funhouse mirror of bright light, but it didn't feel hot or cold relative to this ship, so that was a good sign. It was at least temperate wherever I was about to go.

"Good luck!" called Ratchet. They both waved.

I took a deep breath, crouched like a runner, closed my eyes -- and jumped into it like a diver.

An instant later, the wind was promptly knocked out of me, as I skidded a stop on a hard floor, sending the book across that surface, and giving me bruises on my arms.

"Hey!" yelled a voice from 20 feet away, in a wonderfully authentic New Jersey accent, "you damn numskull! Why can't you ever just program those damn things the way we tell you to!?"

A strong arm momentarily yanked me to my feet. An arm that was a wondrous sight to behold, because the hand attached had five fingers.

The End.