# Placating the skipper

Author: Portentous1975
Tags: Alien, Domination/Submission, M/F

  
  
The Skipper had sex with me today.  
  
I keep looking at the sentence and it still looks completely  
unbelievable - wholly bizarre and out of place on the page - but it  
iss true. She did. The Skipper did. The Skipper did have sex with me.  
  
It still looks unbelievable. It's only because I'm sore and that the  
whole thing seems so weird it \_has\_ to be true that I believe it  
myself right now.  
  
The Skipper called me over the intercom, it must have been around noon  
because I was busy with the paperwork (Note: I have to remember to  
tell pvt. Lennart to put in more time in the gym.)  
  
"Lieutenant appointed by unfortunate accident, I make unofficial  
request for your presence on the bridge at close to present time."  
  
I was surprised of course. Not only had I never heard what the  
Skipper's translator called "acting Lieutenant, first class" before  
but I didn't know what on earth she would want me on the bridge  
for. If it was unofficial it couldn't be an incoming transmission from  
HQ and while we're in inter-planetary transit there's not much else it  
can be. So I replied, asking her to acknowledge the message and what  
"close to present time" meant.  
  

  "You have understood impeccably, Lieutenant appointed by unfortunate  
accident. With 'close to present time' was implied that you have the  
leeway of a social call but nevertheless are expected to oblige with  
all due haste as behooves the most senior leader of cargo human  
soldiers."  
  
A social call to a Beta? But a social call as the commanding officer  
of the company. Had I just been commanded to pay this 'social call' or  
were I meant to go when I went off duty?  
  
When in doubt you placate the Skipper. Hell, you \_always\_ placate the  
Skipper. Not only is it the standing order. Nobody wants a major  
diplomatic crisis with an alien species we don't really understand  
just because some grunt waited a minute too long or was a trifle  
abrupt when responding to a Beta. Of course, with the Skippers there's  
more to it. The Skippers put their skin on the line to save ours.  
  
When a team fucks up and gets in over their head, it's the Skipper  
that puts heaven and earth in motion to get them out. It's the Skipper  
that will disregard direct orders from allied command and swoop down  
to make a pick-up in the middle of a fire-fight. It's the Skipper that  
will disregard common sense and do a bombing-run on the Alpha's  
flak-protected mortars. Skippers live by their loyalty to the soldiers  
they carry and they don't hesitate one moment to die for it. We  
couldn't call ourselves soldiers if we didn't give some of that  
loyalty back.  
  

  So I went to the bridge straight away. I only paused for a moment to  
change into a clean uniform and run a comb trough my hair. I hauled  
myself up through the hatch to the bridge perhaps ten minutes after  
I'd gotten the Skipper's call.  
  
She swiveled her chair around when she heard me, and like always when  
I see a Beta face to face, I had to hide a smile. They always remind  
me of Magpies; the fur on their head, chest, back and limbs bluish  
black, and stark white on their stomach and sides, back, arms, legs and  
their head. Sometimes, the metallic translator-necklaces can seem like  
a silver spoon they've stolen somewhere and are fussing over.  
  
Today the image was particularly vivid. The skipper was wearing  
neither a toga nor a utility vest when I entered, and she was holding  
her finger-hand on one of the control-panels at the side of the chair,  
making the black veil-hair of that arm hang down like a wing. She  
wasn't even wearing the blue Skipper's mammeluks, and I could see the  
end of her mane splayed out on the chair between her legs. I was a  
little disappointed (in a bemused way), that it didn't really look  
much like the tail of a bird.  
  

  I suppose the fact that she was sitting there naked should have clued  
me into what was going on, but just don't think about Betas in sexual  
terms. They're aliens. Good aliens, but not human. And besides, I'd  
never paid a social call on a Beta before - maybe they never wore  
mammeluks off duty.  
  
She did that double blink that means sort of the same as an amused  
smile or grin, and whispered into her translator. A second later, it  
started talking. "I am very much obliged that you could respond to my  
call for your service so promptly. I would be closely adhered to if  
you sit down in a chair next to my chair and act in a comforted  
manner."  
  
I gave a small nod, said "Certainly, Skipper." and eased myself  
carefully into the co-skipper's seat. (Not that there's ever any  
co-skippers aboard these ships, but the seat's still there). I smiled,  
and pretended to be comfortable, although the seat is really too  
narrow and tight for a human frame.  
  
I almost fell out of the chair, when Skipper swiveled it around  
without a warning towards the port view-screen. She'd swiveled herself  
around too, and looked over at me . She raised her cheek-fur in a  
"grin", as I gave a sheepish smile back, and sat up straight in the  
seat again.  
  

  Then she bristled the fur on her cheek in a pattern I didn't  
recognize, and told me "I found a recording of video media of such a  
nature that I think it might hold amusing interest for this audience  
of us both two."  
  
The only place she could have found a video here, in transit, were of  
course in the men's lockers. In addition to looking like a magpie, our  
particular Skipper was as curious (and thieving) as one as well; and  
often pawed through our personals when we were elsewhere. But, she's  
the Skipper and she's a Beta, and the men keep their complaints down.  
  
She turned on the video, and I could only blink. "Most interesting, do  
you agree?" she asked, watching the video with one eye and me with the  
other.  
  
"Err, yes." I managed to reply. On the large screen in front of us, a  
large-breasted woman was busy sucking a man's cock, and making a lot  
of noise about it. The Skipper had put on a hard-core pornographic  
movie.  
  
The skipper made the sound of an MP5 with a silencer being fired, and  
the translator turned it into a staccato, metallic  
"Hah. Hah. Hah. Hah. Hah." The fur over the bridge of her snout  
bristled in a gesture I'd never seen before. "I am carefully precise  
in ascertaining that this is human-species playful mating-behavior  
being conducted?"  
  

  "It's ... sex. Yes." I managed to stutter, still rather stunned. I was  
still not realizing she was seducing me. After all, she was a  
different species - a video of Betas having at it would probably  
strike me as curious and fascinating too, without necessarily being  
erotic.  
  
"The human-species individual wearing the thick, yellowish veil-hair  
on its head is of the child-bearing phenotype, is that a correct  
assumption?"  
  
"Yes." I replied, and cleared my throat. I was starting to get over  
the shock now. "Yes, she is a female. One can tell by her breasts. The  
spheres positioned on the upper front of her torso."  
  
The camera-angle changed to a close-up of the most mechanical part of  
the sex-act. Skipper bristled her cheek-fur in amusement, and said  
"And as well by her not being in possession of a piston-like,  
insert-able drill-bit." (The translators aren't calibrated for  
anatomical studies.)  
  
I think I blushed then, but I managed to clear my throat and answer  
that, yes, that was also a way to tell that she was indeed a female.  
  

  "My opposite number." Skipper said, and turned both eyes on me. "Are  
you already in possession of the awareness that I myself am of an  
analogous non-grammatical gender as that female individual?"  
  
Now I was starting to get an inkling of what was going on - but I  
chided myself as being foolish and reading things into the  
translator-confusion. "Yes, to a certain degree." I told her, "I've  
been told that male Betas have yellowish ridges on their ridge-hand,  
while females have ivory-colored ones."  
  
She made another sound than the MP5 with silencer one, but the  
translator still made it into the staccato "Hah. Hah. Hah." "Is that  
which visual sign you use for non-grammatical gender-separation?" she  
queried when she was through laughing, looking quite bemused.  
  
"It's the one I know how to see." I admitted. On the screen the movie  
had changed to another couple, humping away doggie-style.  
  
"See this carefully, human-soldier." she said, the fur on her snout  
bristling again, and she swiveled her chair towards me. She spread her  
legs as wide as the chair allowed her and used her ridge and her  
fingers to spread the fur away from her ... well, whatever Betas call  
what's analogous to the vagina. "No insert-able piston-plunger here."  
  

  I don't know if I said anything, I was too shocked at this lewd  
intimacy she was showing me. I did look, though - partly by reflex  
and partly because she'd requested me to. It didn't look like a vagina  
- it looked more like some weird, dark-brown rubber-seal. One  
triangular lip below, and two smaller triangular lips above, folding  
together in a slight bulge.  
  
As I watched, the triangular lips retracted, or flattened - pulling  
back from the origo to reveal a salmon-red funnel or grotto  
underneath. She made some untranslated sound, and I startled to -  
looking up from her privates to her face. The fur across her snout  
was bristled up high, and the fur on her cheek was pulsing softly,  
bristling up and down a millimeter or so. For a long moment we crossed  
eyes, and I just stared, trying to read something out of the  
glimmering grey eyes of hers.  
  
She made some more sounds, and the translator started. "The details of  
such a lack, or no such lack, could also additionally serve as a sign  
of distinction."  
  
I think I licked my lips, and glanced back down at her sex. She was  
still holding the fur away, but the opening had closed - the  
three-pronged star snugly shut. "Yes, I guess it could. But you wear  
mammeluks on most occasions." I stuttered quite a bit saying that.  
  

  "In the present I am without opaque, covering items of clothing over  
my bareness, and in conclusion this visual sign is available to the  
human-species company I am present in. This state of affairs can not  
be said to hold for you, Lieutenant appointed by unfortunate  
accident. And this I strictly find to my dislike."  
  
I had to think that through three-four times before I reached an  
understanding of what she had said. "Are you asking me to take my  
clothes off?" I asked, baffled and certain I must have misread the  
Skipper somehow.  
  
The fur on her nose and cheeks lay itself down tightly to her skin. "A  
great terminological distance away from polite request,  
human-soldier. I demand with expectation of being obeyed."  
  
The translators they use to speak to us troops are calibrated by human  
diplomats, so when the translator say "demands" you can be pretty sure  
that the Beta said something a lot stronger. And, well, you always  
placate the Skipper. So I took my clothes off.  
  
I don't know if she'd turned off the movie already or not, but I can't  
remember any scenes from when I stood up of the chair and started  
undressing. I paused a few times, and looked over at her to see that I  
really had understood her right. She was sitting with her arms on the  
arm-rests, her legs still spread apart, but the star of her sex hidden  
under her fur now.  
  

  She bristled the fur across her snout again, and was watching me with  
that spooky disjointed stare the Betas have - each eye looking at  
different places, moving independently. She didn't tell me to stop.  
  
I wasn't embarrassed when I stood there naked, nor excited in any  
way. I had been embarrassed earlier, but the whole situation now seemed  
so bizarre that I was in deep alien territory. And there you keep your  
mouth shut, do as you're told and try to figure it all out later. So  
when she told me to walk over to her chair and stand there, I just  
did.  
  
She looked at my face with one eye, and at my genitalia with the  
other. "And this unassembled piston serves as visual confirmation that  
this soldier-human male is of exclusive non-grammatical gender that is  
not child-bearing." The metallic voice of the translator droned, and  
she brought her finger-hand up to my crotch and used her fingers to  
caress my cock and scrotum.  
  
To begin with her touch was very gentle - cool, and tickling with the  
short, thick fur on the slender fingers. It wasn't erotic, not to me  
at least - more like a doctor cupping your balls and telling you to  
cough. Then she started tugging harder - small testing yanks. I let  
out an involuntary yelp when she tugged my balls a little too rough.  
  

  She blinked twice so quickly in succession I barely registered it;  
cheek-fur bristling in amusement. "An Achilles' heel, is that what I  
have located through searching?" she wondered, and made another rough  
tug at my balls.  
  
I stumbled, and in reflex caught myself on her shoulder with my  
hand. She startled, both eyes turning quickly up to look at my face,  
her fingers freezing. For a moment she looked at me and I looked at  
her, my hand resting some of my weight on her soft, black-furred  
shoulder. She made a soft sound, that sounded like a squirrel  
chattering, and the translator turned on. "Hmmmm... So now."  
  
"Reflex." I excused myself, and started to take my hand away. A sharp  
tug at my balls made me flinch and reconsider. "Your finger-appendage  
can remain." she told me (which really amounted to an order with the  
way she tugged my pouch), so I let my hand rest back against her  
shoulder. Her fingers started kneading gently then, rolling my  
testicles around in her palm, stroking and warming my scrotum and my  
cock.  
  

  I think it was that moment of startlement when I touched her that  
yanked me out of alien-land, and now her touch \_was\_ erotic and I  
could feel myself growing hard; furry fingers stroking, tickling,  
brushing and fondling. The fur on her snout bristled fully, and the  
fur on her cheek started pulsing in a slow, simply rhythm.  
  
"I am a very proficient mechanical engineer." she said, and I could  
feel my mouth go dry as she teased my cock towards full erection with  
that incredibly soft touch. "Repairing the sleeping piston and  
bringing it back fully on-line with the systems where it can be put to  
constructive use, plunging my personal hollow and tool-box."  
  
I swallowed, and then I startled as she brought her ridge hand up  
between my legs, pressing her back-edge ridge up between my buttocks,  
while her fingers still teased my full-grown cock. I'm lucky those  
ridges aren't as sharp as they seem - it felt like a ceramic tile  
pressing against my skin, and not a knife's edge. But she pressed it  
against me rather hard, and I almost had to go up on my toes.  
  

  "You like to be in control, don't you?" I asked her. It just slipped  
out of me, like something I would say to a very direct woman back in a  
pub on Earth. The sort of thing you say while you wait for your mind  
to catch up with the situation, I guess.  
  
She looked up at my face with one eye, and blinked twice in a grin. "I  
do sustain enjoyment from leadership, yes. Yes in the most  
affirmative. In the present place a bodily caress to my second  
shoulder." she said, and wriggled her ridge-hand slightly from side to  
side, making the ridge dig even harder in between my buttocks.  
  
I placed my other hand on her shoulder as she'd told me to, and when  
she wriggled the ridge-hand some more I did have to go up on my toes,  
involuntarily forced to put weight on both her shoulders. My situation  
seemed to amuse her. She gave my glans a squeeze with two furred  
fingers, and seemed to be delighted by the drop of pre-cum she managed  
to tease forth.  
  
She finally eased off with the ridge, stroking the ridge-hand down my  
inner thigh to my knee, before moving it behind me, pressing the  
palm-ridge into the small of my back in a tight grip. She grasped  
lightly around the base of my scrotum with her fingers and made a  
trying tug that brought me back down on the soles of my feet.  
  

  Using the ridge-hand at my back for support, she started to climb to  
her feet - still holding my balls in a secure grip. She hadn't told me  
to take my hands away, so I let them lie on her shoulders as she rose;  
having to take a step back in the process.  
  
Then the next I know she was pressing her body up against me; I was  
still holding onto her shoulders, on height with the top of my head or  
so; and my face was pressing against the black fur just below the  
translator-unit at her neck. One of her lanky legs had wrapped itself  
around me, and was pressing her tighter against me. My cock was  
trapped between my stomach and a furry hip. She had fortunately let go  
of my balls, as her arm wasn't quite that long.  
  
"Is this not truly a cozy pleasant sensation? You human-soldier gives  
off scents of exotic illegality in the context of personal  
play-behavior. These I find much exciting enjoyment from."  
  
She felt good. Not human-good, but she was warm and soft and safe. And  
my cock was almost painfully erect, and very hot against her hip. I  
let one of my hands slide down along her back, brushing the side of  
her mane on the way down. They have a slight bump, or ridge of some  
sort, about an inch above their hips, and I let it rest there.  
  

  She made a loud, sudden sound that reminded me of the starting engine  
in Uncle Lliam's John Deere. The translator turned it into "Suddenly",  
which I don't think could have been translated right.  
  
She sent the chair away, and gave me a small squeeze with the ridge  
against my back. "Human-species inherent inventiveness." she said, and  
gave a small double-blink "grin". "Stand without walking in any  
direction along the plane of the floor." she instructed, and kneeled  
down. I let her, holding my hand still so that she brushed herself  
against it on the way down. I think she liked that.  
  
She licked me. Her maw parted just slightly, and that long, slender  
tongue slowly extended and wrapped itself around my glans; wiping off  
the drop of pre-cum. She managed to wrap the tongue more than one full  
turn around my cock, and brought her fingers up to brush against my  
pubic hairs. She just tickled - touched only the hairs, not my  
skin. She kept unwrapping and re-wrapping her tongue around my cock,  
at a new position every time without any pattern to it.  
  

  The sensations - not to say the whole situation - was so downright  
strange that I came very suddenly. One moment I was standing there,  
watching her apply her tongue to my cock - I think I was even brushing  
the top of her mane with my hand, and in the next moment I was  
spurting.  
  
If it took me by surprise, it took her doubly so. It hit her in the  
mouth, and across her snout, and throughout the whole ejaculation and  
a long moment afterwards she sat there frozen, her tongue literally  
half-extended and in the process of wrapping itself around my cock,  
just behind the head. The fur on her back was completely flat in shock.  
  
Then she very slowly pulled her tongue back, and laughed - the fur on  
her cheeks rippling in amusement. "You perform stratagem-ambush upon  
helpless from lack of fortification-work personal I. Human  
soldier-male is very adept at success."  
  
When she had said that (even before the translator was through) she  
started licking at my cock again, much in the same manner as she had  
before, even if it now had gone limp. I was just standing there  
speechless, watching her pulling her tongue slowly back from my cock,  
flip it onto her snout to lap up some of the sperm in her fur, pulling  
her tongue fully into her maw and then extending it again to wrap  
around my cock once again.  
  

  She must have kept it up for several minutes, because I had managed to  
start thinking again, and somehow she'd managed to groom her fur into  
an almost pristine condition. It was bristling rather high over her  
snout.  
  
I cleared my throat, and tried to find my voice again. "Skipper - are  
my actions cause for apologies?" Straight out of the book - the first  
thing we learnt in Beta-relations was that question. The second thing  
we learnt was that if we asked that, the Beta would give us a straight  
yes/no answer - part of the official inter-species protocol. Skipper  
ignored it..  
  
"Remain in unwalking locked spatial circumstances." she instructed me  
and stood up before me. She ruffled my hair, using her  
ridge-hand. "Hunt-exciting veil-hair." she complimented (I think it  
was a compliment) and walked off the bridge into her quarters.  
  
She was gone for maybe a quarter of an hour, during which I was just  
standing there, in the draft from the ventilation, fidgeting and  
shifting my weight from leg to leg. I grew hard again. I don't know if  
that was because I was standing in the chill wind, or because I was  
thinking back on what had just happened. It was weird - my cock was  
very hard, and my balls had that needy feeling, but my mind was  
detached from it, in a way.  
  

  When she finally came back, she flustered the fur on her cheeks when  
she saw my hard-on. "Human-species resilience would seem to have turned  
efforts towards quite personal grooming-behavior null and void. I  
will in close future take second multiple enjoyment use from  
Lieutenant appointed by unfortunate accident's personal enthusiastic  
constructed piston."  
  
What could I say? You always placate the Skipper. "Yes Skipper."  
  
She lined up her main ridge with a line from her eyes to the floor at  
my feet. "Endure physical weight on human-species analogous shoulders  
and at opposite end-point of abstract line on human-male's two feet  
both." She commanded, and made that impatient gesture with her fingers  
where they seem to weave together.  
  
I lay down on the floor - I was thinking that I hadn't realized the  
floor on the bridge was plastic before. She walked up to me, and  
towered over me - more than seven feet tall, even taller than average  
for a Beta. She looked down at me, one eye on my cock, one on my face,  
and slowly raised the fur across her snout.  
  

  She swiveled her left leg over me, so she was standing with a leg on  
either side of my shoulders, took a step back so she was standing just  
over my crotch and knelt down. She stopped herself when the fur of her  
crotch brushed against the head of my cock.  
  
I instinctively thrust up against her at the stimulation; an action  
that seemed to take her with amused surprise, and she made that  
silenced MP5 laugh. "Watch carefully visually at inter-species docking  
rendezvous unrelated to space-ships." she told me, and used her  
fingers to pull the fur away from her sealed opening.  
  
She adjusted herself so that her seal was just above the head of my  
cock. I groaned when she sank down a little, pressing that soft,  
three-pronged cover very lightly against it. It felt cool - not quite  
as warm as human skin, but warmer than room-temperature, and it was  
quite dry.  
  
Then she opened up, slowly pulling the three seals back - I couldn't  
see it this time, but I could certainly feel it; as her muscles were  
working skin-on-skin against my glans. Before I realized it, she had  
sunk down over my cock and taken it completely inside her.  
  

  The first feeling was one of warmth - as the depth of her was much  
warmer than her skin - even warmer than a woman, almost unpleasantly  
warm. Then one of cold, as a length of her about halfway down my cock  
was quite chill - like running water behind a layer of plastic.  
  
She bristled the fur across her snout at me, and made a ripple across  
the fur of her cheeks. And she clenched. She must have been wider than  
my cock when she sat down, because I hadn't noticed her  
tightness. Also, her inside is entirely dry, and so it couldn't have  
slipped in at all if she hadn't been wider. And now she tightened up  
around my cock, strange muscles playing across the length of it in  
ripples and waves.  
  
If you can think of a human vagina as the analogue of a suction pump,  
the skipper's was like one of those conveyor belts that transports the  
goods by shaking and rattling. My cock was simultaneously tugged and  
pulled at in several places by the muscles of her "cunt", and separate  
sections of it would clench on my cock, tug and let go and then clench  
again. It was all ruled by some alien, unfathomable rhythm.  
  

  She put her ridge-hand to her chest, extended the arm with her  
finger-hand straight out from her shoulder, so that the long, black  
veil-hair hang down like the veil it's named for. It still reminded me  
of wings. And she worked on my cock with her cunt, sitting very still  
- only the fur across her snout shivering a little at full bristle.  
  
Then she made a sudden throw of her head as her cunt went into  
turbo-charge on my cock for an instant. She unclenched it, and started  
to rise up off it.  
  
I must have said something, because she stopped half-way off it, made  
a slow double-blink "grin" and told me "Your suggestion has been parsed  
in context of a request. I comply from a position of controlled  
amusement." She sank back down, enveloping me fully again and started  
clenching on my cock once more.  
  
I came very hard - but I don't think I surprised either of us this  
time. She clenched hard as I spurted, double-blinking in amusement, a  
soft shivering crossed the fur of her snout. Then, when I was through,  
she slipped off me.  
  

  She stood up, and used both of her hands to pull away the fur from her  
sex again, letting me study that rubber-sealed opening again. There  
was a faint smudge of wetness at the origo of it, and one of the  
prongs were glistening slightly. All the rest of my load must have  
been kept safely behind that seal.  
  
She let me gaze on it for a while, studying my messy and now rather  
sorry-looking cock in return. Then she let the fur drop back to cover  
her star and double-winked at me.  
  
Later, when I had dressed again, and she'd sat back in her chair, she  
pointed at me with her ridge-hand, and dismissed me from the the  
bridge: "Abandon without undue haste the bridge of starship 'Nansen',  
human-soldier-male. Await that I will in intermediate to close future  
terms make second and multiple more firm demands of your personal  
amusing services."  
  
You always placate the skipper. "Yes Skipper." I said, stood to  
attention and disbarked from the bridge.

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/Oe5yqAMe