Flight Trajectories
Flight Trajectories
A light, flowery breeze blew. Blue skies. And friendly, curious eyes.
"We rarely get visitors! Bob-white, bob-white ... we are happy to see you! Bob-white ... "
Audrey smiled, unable to hide her amusement. "I, uh, take it you're a bobwhite?" she asked. The squirrel (with several other Solstice crew-furs) was mulling about. In a grassy, tree-lined clearing. Shuttle-Pod One behind them, and the avian settlement ... before them.
"I am!" the bird replied brightly. Eyes shining. Chest puffing out.
The squirrel giggled, her angular ears swiveling.
"What's a bobwhite?" Lipton, the cinnamon-furred rabbit ... whispered to Aria, the snow rabbit.
"Quail," was her quiet, concise reply.
"Oh."
"You sure you don't mind us visiting?" Advance asked, his short-furred tail (not bare, like regular mouses) ... snaking through Audrey's bushy, furrier tail. The action unseen by the birds. But seen by the other member of the away team (Aria and Lipton).
"We do not!" said the quail/bobwhite. He was so chipper! Most of these birds were. No birds-of-prey here. Just song and game-birds. And other birds ... who had left Home-World (where all furry species originated, and where the Furry Council resided ... and where the Furry Federation was based) ... had left to start a colony here, in the uncharted territories. Birds, of course, liked to fly. And, for that, they needed privacy and space. Both were in abundance here.
Not that there was NO space on Home-World (which was home to 7 billion furs), but ... the predators, especially, were very suspicious of ANY flying creatures. Especially bats. Bats had telepathic abilities (and, by some, were wrongly feared for it). And, though most birds did NOT ... it was blindly assumed that they did (simply because they, too, had wings). Besides, many considers birds to be "untrue" furs ... because didn't HAVE fur.
Hence this avian-colonized planet ...
... and, as for Solstice stopping here ... well, she was, primarily, a ship of exploration. Though a well-armed one. A toothy, formidable ship ... Wabash-Class, like Luminous was. But ANY reason for a planet visit was a good one.
Especially the promise of sun and fresh air!
After all, nature was (obviously) very good for (and vital to) furs. It wasn't a good idea to go TOO long without being in a natural atmosphere. A surface. Solid land. Else, depression would set in, and yiff-drives would go out of synch (which was good for NO one ... as disorientation, dizziness, and headaches would set in).
So, planets were ALWAYS welcome, yes. These visits kept up crew morale. And kept minds off of ...
... darker prospects.
"Well, we're grateful," Advance said, nodding his head ... and bowing his body a bit (an avian sign of respect), "for your hospitality."
The bobwhite beak-smiled (which was akin to a snow-fur's eye-smile: that being ... a smile with NO lips ... hard to do, and elusively charming). "It is a pleasure to welcome furs as kind as you. You must tell us of your adventures! Where you have come from ... and where you are going. To fly in the stars! I must admit," the quail said, "to being somewhat jealous."
"Don't you have ships of your own?" Lipton asked.
"Only a few. They are mostly shuttles," explained the quail/bobwhite. "And we use them for ... hopping from settlement to settlement. Or going to different parts of the planet. No, but ... you," he said, eyes wide, "have a STAR-ship! A big, bright star-ship! It must be incredible ... "
"Well, hey," Audrey said, giggling. "We give tours!"
The bobwhite held his breath. "You DO?!"
The squirrel, shaking with mirth, biting her lip (to keep from giggle-squeaking hysterically ... birds were SO comical ... and they didn't even KNOW they were being funny; which made them MORE comical). "Mm ... mm-hmm," she went, shaking. A giggle-squeak slipping out of her throat. She swallowed it down, clearing her throat, then, and ... curling the toes of her foot-paws in the grass. Focusing on that feeling.
Birds didn't wear shoes. Their talons weren't ... suited for it.
So, the Solstice crew-furs had removed their shoes ... before getting off the shuttle-pod. As was custom when among birds. And it felt good! Bare foot-paws in grass. Mm ... wonderful ... not all furs HAD to wear shoes, but ... some had delicate enough foot-paws (most rodents, and rabbits) ... that they chose to, anyway. To keep their sole-pads soft. And keep toes from getting stubbed.
"We'll, uh, arrange a tour," Advance said, taking over the conversation. "How's tonight suit you?" Ship-time, it was mid-morning. Planet-time, it was about the same. A few hours later, but ...
"I look forward to it! I shall bring other birds?"
Advance nodded, bowing again. "Yes. But ... uh ... we might have to send another pod down. Just don't bring TOO big a group." A shuttle-pod comfortably fit six furs. In a crunch, it could fit ten. In a crunch. "We can do another tour tomorrow, but, uh ... heh ... we'll figure something out."
The bobwhite beak-clacked. "Thank you, Captain Mouse!"
"Advance," Advance supplied gently.
"To what?" A quizzical head-tilt.
"No, no ... that's my name. Call me Advance."
"Captain Mouse Advance!"
"No ... no, just Advance. You don't have to call me Captain."
"Advance Mouse!"
"Just Advance," he said again, patiently. Behind him, Audrey descended into hysterical giggle-squeaks. And chitters. She couldn't hold it back anymore!
And it wasn't long before Lipton was giggling, too.
Aria, meanwhile, kept her composure. Simply raising a brow at the two gigglers.
"Advance!" the bobwhite said. Finally getting it.
"Yes," Advance whispered. Taking a breath.
The bobwhite beak-smiled, eying the other crew-furs. "They are so happy! You are such happy furs!"
Audrey cracked up even more ...
"Yes," Advance said, sighing, ribbing his mate in the side. "We are. Very happy ... furs." He was trying SO hard not to giggle-squeak himself. Audrey wasn't making it easy. But, as the Captain, he felt he should maintain SOME kind of composure. Especially in front of such gracious guests. And he was grateful for Aria's cool. Which seemed to help balance things out.
The bobwhite, his small, rather plump, feathery form ... bobbed a bit. Even though he looked a bit chubby, he was still rather light. As his bones weren't as heavy as a mammal's bones would be. His face was battered in black and white feathers.
Other birds could be seen.
"Who's that ... blue bird?"
"Bluebird!" exclaimed the bobwhite. "The bluebirds live outside the settlement! In the country!" The way he spoke, with his voice rising ... at the end of every sentence ... he sounded so excited. Even when he wasn't. It was just how he talked. Did all birds talk like this? "That is an indigo bunting!"
"Ooh," Lipton went. "It's all ... neon-blue."
"Their feathers show neon-blue in the light. In the dimness, they almost appear black!"
"Oh."
"We have many species of birds here!" the bobwhite exclaimed. "As I'm sure you have many species of furs on your ship! Many of us have never been off this world. I have never seen a snow rabbit before!" he said, referring to Aria.
"Many furs haven't," was her quiet response.
"Do you live far away?" the bobwhite asked, tilting his head. Blinking.
"Yes," she replied. "Far away." How long had it been since she'd left home? And ... how long would it be before she ever got back? IF ... she ever got back. She hadn't left on good terms. She'd become disillusioned with her fellow snow rabbits. After the war, they ... after the snow rabbits BEAT the Arctic foxes ... her own species began to think very highly of itself. And the tension, then, should've ended. With victory. But the victory only brought to light ... multiple societal and behavioral problems.
That, and ... what she perceived to be the betrayal committed by her partners. Snow rabbits did not, as a rule, take 'mates' ... only 'partners.' Not CASUAL partners. But ... it was complicated. Snow rabbits were very emotionally controlled. To openly express love and affection, and ... they NEEDED to breed. Just like all furs. But they couldn't emotionally express the desire in the same way, and ... it made taking lifelong mates very difficult.
So, they worked themselves into 'breeding groups' ... between seven and ten rabbits per group. You bred ONLY within that group. With whoever you chose at any given time.
The other snow rabbits in Aria's group had never much cared for her. She was always left out. And with her distaste of how things were done, and ... after having WILLINGLY allowing herself to be tortured and raped by the Arctic foxes (giving the snow rabbits the location of several fox bases, and ... delivering a key victory for her side) ... after sacrificing SO much ...
... she'd come to find she'd only been a pawn for the rest of the snow rabbits.
They hadn't cared.
It had been scary, really. They ... in order to DEFEAT the foxes, to defeat the predators ...
... the snow rabbits had become like predators themselves.
And most of them failed to realize it. Wouldn't admit it.
She would. And ... before she'd been able to voice her opinions, her breeding partners denied her breeding privileges, and ...
... well, she'd left. For MORE reasons than one, and ...
... here she was. Given the special rank of 'sub-commander,' and serving as both the first officer AND tactical officer of Solstice.
And now mated to Ross. Actually taking a true mate. A human turned meadow mouse, no less. An outcast (like her), and ...
... she caught her mind before it went on an unreachable tangent. Just the thought, and just the word of 'home' ... had prompted this! This train of wayward thought!
Control it. Control your mind. Smooth it out, she ordered herself.
By the time she'd blinked back into full focus ...
... the quail had turned his attentions to Advance and Audrey. Was asking them all sorts of questions. Was ...
" ... pillows."
Aria blinked. Blinked. "What?"
Lipton repeated, "Birds remind me ... of pillows. You know, all puffy, fluffy, and ... when you lay your head on them, your mind flies away to dream."
"Mm," the snow rabbit went.
"Just saying."
Aria let out a breath. "More furs should be like them. They sing and speak so brightly. And ask for nothing in return."
"Well, Sub-Commander, if you don't mind me saying ... you, of ALL furs, should know that EVERY fur asks for something. We all have our own agendas. Our own secrets."
"True. But ... birds are not true furs."
"Mm ... maybe," the cinnamon-furred rabbit replied. "But I think," he said lightly, "that you're losing your edge."
"My edge?"
"Your icy, detached edge. Mm ... being mated to Ross, I think, is what's doing it. And being on Solstice. You're not as ... tough and suspicious, maybe, as you were."
"I will take that," Aria said smartly, honestly, "as a compliment."
Lipton smiled at her. "It was meant as one."
Aria gave a slight nod at her fellow rabbit. No, he wasn't a snow rabbit, but ... still, it was nice to be around other rabbits.
"Bunnies!" the bobwhite whistled, gesturing eagerly with his wings. A 'follow me' gesture.
Aria and Lipton blinked. Seeing ... the bird and the two rodents had gotten several paces ahead of them. So, the two rabbits quickened their pace.
"We are not," Aria said, under her breath, sounding (through her emotional freeze) a bit annoyed. "We are not ... 'bunnies'."
"The nerve!" Lipton whispered back. "We're rabbits! Proper rabbits!"
"Indeed," Aria replied. "Should we forgive him?"
"Mm ... this time," Lipton said, with mock-seriousness. "This time." And he soon giggled. As they caught up to the rest of the group.
Audrey, leaning back, asked Aria, "What's he laughing about?"
"It is a rabbit thing," Aria replied neutrally.
"Oh."
And the away team continued for the settlement ... and, as a momentary quiet settled upon them (mostly for the bobwhite to catch his breath ... from so much chattering) ... Aria thought of her mate. Of Ross. She didn't like leaving him on the ship. She wished ... not to have to be apart from him like this. She was very protective of him (though she might not openly show it). And ... she sighed very lightly (almost inaudibly).
She valued his presence. They had similar, low-key, quiet personalities. And ... being around such talkative, outgoing creatures as these birds!
It was enough to make her ears waggle! Constantly!
But ... they were interesting. And the other members of the away team seemed to be really enjoying themselves. And enjoying the nature, too. Though, to Aria, it was FAR too warm. Her natural habitat was the snow and ice, and ... at least the temperature on Solstice was kept at a constant. It was warmer here, in the air, that it was on the ship, so ...
"Cheer up, Aria."
She looked to Audrey again ... who'd now slowed her pace to walk by the snow rabbit's side. As Lipton quickened his pace to walk by the Captain and the bobwhite.
"You okay?"
"I am fine."
"You look so ... stoic. We're on an away mission. It's ... friendly birds! Lovely nature! No danger. So ... relax?"
"I am trying."
"It's hard to tell, sometimes." A friendly smile. And a pause. "He'll be okay," she said, of Ross.
"He is the first fur I ... have truly loved," the snow rabbit admitted. "He is fragile. He ... needs me. I do not like leaving him on the ship alone." A pause. "Mm ... plus," she added, "he'll have to paw today. Instead of ... " She trailed. Not saying it, but ... implying what her mate (and herself) would miss. For the away team wouldn't go back to the ship until tonight.
"I'm sure his paw will hold up."
A head-tilt. "But will mine?" she asked. Making a rare (though toneless) joke.
The squirrel giggle-squeaked. "Huh ... um ... hadn't thought of that." And she winked at the snow rabbit. "You need one now? You should've had one," Audrey whispered, of an 'orgasm', "before we left the ship." Another giggle. "How long can you last?"
A sigh. "Three hours. Give or take a few minutes."
"Mm ... " Giggle-squeak. "Well, you can find a bathroom before then. And, uh ... do your stuff in there. Now, join the rest of us? And try and ... converse?"
"I will TRY," Aria said, "but I cannot promise."
"That's good enough." Audrey slipped her paw into Aria's. And squeezed it. And pulled her friend along.
The doors swished open.
And the jaguar walked in, squinting a bit (the lights a bit too bright ... for her still-itchy eyes). She squinted. Paused. And ... padded ... to the counter between the mess hall and kitchen. She sniffed. Sniffed.
Soup. She wanted more of that soup. That vegetable soup.
It had been surprisingly ... satisfying.
So, she slipped back into the kitchen. Got herself a bowl, and found the pot. Apparently, Ross was making soup during all his kitchen stints. At least one kind of soup. And, yes, he did have vegetable ... so, she ladled herself some. And got a plate to put her bowl on. Retrieved a spoon, and clearing her throat, went back into the eating area.
Where she lingered uncertainly. Before going ...
... to a table. Pausing again. "I wish to sit."
Ross, looking up, blinked. "Um ... "
And, Handel, the porcupine ... who was sitting with the vole, squinted (as the jaguar was doing), and asked, "Why?"
"It is hard to eat soup while standing," was her response.
"Oh."
"Um ... sure," said Ross, gesturing at an available chair.
Advent set her plate and bowl down. And pulled a chair out. And sat. Sighing heavily. She still felt ill. A LOT better than before, but ... still with some lingering effects. Welly assured her she should be all better in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. So, just another day or two.
"How are you holding up?" asked Handel. As a porcupine, and loaded with the quills that adorned his body ... he really wasn't afraid of the jaguar (as Ross seemed to be).
"I should be healed soon. It has been a great inconvenience."
"I see ... "
"It is unfair," she said, gritting her teeth, "that I should get sick." She gripped her spoon with more force than was necessary. Never mind that it was her OWN fault this had happened. It was ... it was ... unbefitting!
"Well, none of us are perfect."
"Some of us," Advent told the porcupine, countering him perfectly, "are." She dipped her spoon into her soup. Stirred it. Blew at it. And brought a spoonful up and to her muzzle. And sipped it quietly. The warm, tasty liquid ran across her tongue. All in her mouth. And she swallowed. Closing her eyes. "Mm."
"You ... you like my soup?" Ross stammered. Surprised.
The jaguar opened her eyes. "Yes," she admitted, after a pause.
"Really?"
She gritted her teeth. "Yes," she said again. Why was he forcing her to say it AGAIN? Hadn't he heard her the first time?
"Your, uh, flu isn't contagious is it?" Handel asked, sniffing the air a bit.
She looked at him. Was about to snap, 'Not unless you BREED with me ... ' ... but she held it back. No way she was letting that secret loose. The embarrassment it would cause her ... instead, she paused, swallowed, and replied, "I think the contagion stage has passed. You will not catch it."
A little nod from the porcupine.
"So, you're gonna be okay?"
"Why do you CARE?" Advent growled.
Handel and Ross tensed. Both quiet. A few furs at surrounding tables ... also went quiet.
Advent flushed with anger. And continued partaking of her soup. Spoonful after spoonful. What did the prey want from her? Why were they always so demanding?
"Sorry," Handel whispered, with a bit of an edge in his voice.
"I WILL," Advent assured, with arrogance in her voice, "be okay. I will be fine! I am a predator. It will take more than a ... microscopic bug," she said, "to defeat me."
"Alright," said the porcupine, voice still quiet. Voice still guarded.
The jaguar growled lightly, and shook her head. And sighed. "It is frustrating. A great inconvenience," she repeated. And she stared at her soup. "I was in heat ... when I got sick."
"Oh."
Ross blinked, eyes darting a bit. Not understanding.
Handel explained to him, "A fur's yiff drive goes into dormancy during any sickness ... it's about the ONLY time it goes naturally quiet."
"Oh." The vole blinked. Hadn't known that.
"As a result," Advent continued, "my heat will resume upon the sickness's departure." She gritted her teeth. "I was only a day in ... I'll have six days left." Her paws gripped the table-top. Her claws dug it. "It is intolerable that I should have to spend it with holograms!"
The vole and porcupine kept quiet. Handel finally saying, "You, uh ... you're gonna scratch the table."
"I do not care!" Advent snapped. She squirmed in her seat. "You prey," she said, her tone clearly meant as insulting. "You and your rules. You and your ... 'morals.' You PURPOSELY move through life ... with the sole goal of denying us our rights!"
"What?" Ross asked, blinking.
"I am a predator. You are prey. Natural law dictates ... that you are MINE."
"Excuse me?" the vole stammered.
"Ignore her," Handel said calmly. "She's a sick, sick cat. In more ways than one ... "
"I am not a CAT," she hissed. "I am a feline. A jaguar," she emphasized.
"Sorry," was Handel's response. Clearly, though, he was not.
"Look ... just ... just, let's all calm down. And eat our meals," pleaded Ross.
"You have no meals before you," the jaguar retorted.
"Well, we, uh ... we were just relaxing. Sitting ... "
The feline sniffed the air. "You were pawing." Another sniff. "Together."
Ross flushed hard. His ears turning rosy-pink. "Our ... our mates weren't available." Aria was on the planet. And Tess was on the bridge, on-duty. At the helm. "We needed to ... "
Advent opened her muzzle to say something else to the meadow mouse, but ...
... Handel spoke first, saying, "All furry friends paw together when they need to, Advent. You know that ... anyway, since when did YOU have a problem with orgasms?"
"Meaning?" Her eyes squinted dangerously.
The porcupine gave a bit of a shrug. "Meaning ... " He trailed. Thinking twice about saying it.
"Go on," Advent whispered. Very, very lowly. "Say," she whispered, "it."
The porcupine squinted at her. "Your legs aren't very hard to open."
"Meaning WHAT?!" Her claws fully extended from their pads. "Say it, pincushion!" A species-related slur ... aimed to provoke him.
"Furs ... p-please!" Ross stammered, in a high-pitched, airy squeak. "Please ... stop," he begged. "Stop it!" A breath. "Please," he whispered. He hated this tension! Did it ever stop?
The jaguar glared at the porcupine. And vice versa. It was a standoff. But ... she wouldn't dare challenge him. She'd never been stuck with a porcupine's quills, but ... she could see, even now, with her tired eyes ... that the erector muscles at the bases of his quills were tightening. She saw some of them raise up above the fur layer.
No ... porcupines were dangerous. Very dangerous.
Like skunks, in a way. Skunks could spray you. Porcupines could stab you.
One of those mutant prey species ... that was untouchable by all. It was ... unfair! That he should have that advantage. That she, as a predator, should be kept from making ANY sort of move against him ...
... simply because of his biology!
Why couldn't all prey be easy targets? Like mice?
Advent turned her attentions to Ross.
The vole's whiskers twitched. Nose sniffed. Ears swivelled. He was a bundle of nervous energy. And he wanted, now, his mate. Badly. She knew how to deal with furs like Advent. She would keep him safe. But she was on the planet, and ...
" ... don't lay a PAW," Handel whispered, "on him."
"You his guard, then?" she asked, with a bite.
"I'm his friend. Now ... eat your soup, and have a civil conversation." A shrug. "Or leave."
The jaguar's eyes darted. And she held her breath. And let it out. And nodded. Relenting. Backing down. She was too ill to ... fight them. And too outnumbered. And, plus, outgunned. With Handel and his ... built-in weapons.
There was a moment of silence.
And Advent resumed sipping her soup. Trying to calm down. Trying. Those prey couldn't realize ... how her instinct worked. She was quick to temper. She was ... built to ... mm ... calm down. Calm down. Eat your soup.
"You ... you looking forward to being back on duty?" Ross asked, trying to make friendly conversation. His voice was ... wispy. Was a bit afraid. Male mice ...
... male mice, she thought to herself. Remembering Herkimer. And ... pushing him out of her mind. Don't think of him! He got away. He got away, and ... he disgraced you. Betrayed, she emphasized, you. You did NOTHING wrong. It was him ...
"Um ... I mean, like ... "
"I know what you mean." A breath. A sip of soup. "Yes, I am. I ... enjoy piloting. It is a great method of release," she admitted, "for me."
"Why'd you become a pilot?" Ross wondered.
She paused. Blinked. Hadn't ever really thought about it, but ... knew it the answer: it helped her get away. Fly away. From what? From ... didn't matter.
It was motion.
And motion was a LOT better than standing still. Predators were ... taught to constantly be alert. Constantly be moving.
It kept your prey off-balance. And it kept you sharp.
Ross waited for an answer, swallowing.
Advent eventually replied, "I was suited for it."
"Oh."
"Well, you must be feeling better," Handel remarked, "for you to make it all the way to the mess hall. Be eating soup."
"I already told you," Advent replied, more calmly than before. "I should be fully healed soon."
"That's good to know."
Advent squinted. Wondering if he was being sarcastic, or ... but, no. He ... was being genuine. Why? Why was he suddenly trying to be kind to her? What was the porcupine trying to prove?
"I think, uh ... Tess," Handel said, "doesn't like piloting the ship. It's ... too big. She likes small, maneuverable vessels. Like shuttles."
"Tess. The squirrel," Advent realized. "Your mate."
A quiet nod.
"Solstice," Advent defended, "is PLENTY maneuverable. She can run rings around any predatory ... " She stopped flat. And quietly finished ... " ... predatory vessel ... in the fleet." She flushed. Swallowed. Why'd she say that? SHE was a predator. Why was she proudly defending a prey ship? The Wabash-Class vessels were DESIGNED by prey. Why was she defending this ship ...
"Well, uh ... it'll be nice to have you back at the helm. And have my squirrel back in the shuttle-bay," Handel admitted.
Advent, squinting, rubbing the side of her head, nodded quietly.
"Are you okay?" Ross asked shyly.
"I ... am still sick," was the jaguar's weak, pitiful response. She was nearly finished with her soup. And she picked up her bowl and ... finished it off. And sighed. "I am going to go back to my quarters." She sighed again, sadly.
"Well, get some rest, then ... okay?" Handel asked. Suddenly feeling quite sorry for her. Just a bit ...
Again, Advent squinted at him with heated suspicion ... but detected no negativity in his eyes. And ... she said nothing back to him. Simply swallowed. Simply stood, and ... for a moment, appeared woozy. Liable to collapse. Damn flu.
And she padded away, her golden, black-spotted fur ... matted. From lack of grooming. And her lazy-day tail all limp. She didn't look at her best, but ... she was still impressive. Still beautiful. No one could deny that.
And maybe she was being humbled just a BIT ... by all this. By what had happened to her.
"It'll take a bit more than a flu," Handel said aloud, voicing his thoughts, "to truly change her."
"Mm?" went Ross.
"Well ... she's not about to admit she's done anything wrong. I mean, with Herkimer and everything, and ... her attitudes, and ... " A sigh. "She's a TOTAL predator. And, you know, I TRY to be tolerant. We all do. But ... she takes it TOO far." The porcupine leaned back in his chair. And shook his head. "You know, maybe we don't ... 'get' her, but ... we're prey. This is a PREY ship. We fought long and hard to get our own ships, Ross," the porcupine explained for him. "We were suppressed and abused for ... thousands of years. And yet she goes around acting like she and her ... toothy friends," Handel whispered, "are the real victims! I don't know. Just ... she really needs a wake-up call, you know? Her and ALL the other predators." There was a note of disdain in his voice. "If they got smacked around a bit, I wouldn't mind at all." And he lowered his voice. "I really wish I could sink my quills into one ... really, really hurt one," the porcupine whispered painfully. Eyes watering. "Let them KNOW how it feels ... " Porcupines weren't the most widely-accepted of furry species. They were neither predators OR prey.
But the prey had embraced the porcupines into their 'fold,' as it were.
The predators, when the prey had done so ... had been furious. Claiming porcupines were only joining the 'prey side' ... so that the prey could 'strengthen their arsenal' ...
"A predator? Like ... quill a predator?"
"I wish I could. But ... that's an awful thing to say. Not very Christian of me." He drooped. "I'm ... sorry. I just ... you didn't grow up on Home-world. Before we got our own ships? It was ... very hard. I'm trying to forgive them." A sigh. "Anyway, if I was foolish enough to try and quill a predator ... they're still too powerful. The retribution when other predators found out," he whispered, "wouldn't be worth my life. I wouldn't be able to leave Solstice without ... fear of being stalked and hunted down. I ... " Handel stopped. "I was SO glad when the snow rabbits beat the Arctic foxes in their war, though," he whispered. "I was SO glad ... I kept hoping it would make the predators rethink their methods." His eyes burned. And he looked to the vole. "Don't you wish Advent could FEEL what she did to Herkimer? How she beat him, abused him ... basically raped him? USED him? Don't you wish she could FEEL his pain ... he was a gentle, caring mouse, Ross! Just like you ... she used him like a sex toy ... and she doesn't even feel REMORSE. Don't you wish she could feel what she did to him?"
Ross swallowed ... heart pounding. Eyes watered. Herkimer was his best friend (aside from Aria, his best friend AND mate ... but furs like Herkimer and Handel were his friends). And ... yes ... the vole nodded quietly. Saying nothing. But nodding at the porcupine. Yes.
Handel swallowed, clearing his throat. "Good," he whispered. "I'm glad you ... you're one of us, Ross," he said quietly. And he reached for the vole's paw. And squeezed.
Ross flushed, nodding warmly. Handel was not at all like he would've thought a porcupine fur would be ... his body may have been prickly, but ... his personality really wasn't. It had felt really good to paw with him ... and to talk to him. Made him feel less lonely while his mate was on the surface. And while all his other friends were on duty.
But ... Ross knew, now, what it was like. To be distrusted and almost hated, really, because of being different. He used to be human. And some furs on this ship ... resented him for it. Was resenting Advent simply because she was a predator ...
... any different?
By holding an emotional grudge against Advent, was Ross any better than the wolf who'd insulted him in the mess hall the other day? The wolf who'd made him sob alone in the kitchen ...
The vole's whiskers twitched. He sighed. He ... didn't understand all these feelings. And ... and, anyway, it didn't MATTER whether or not Advent was a predator OR prey. Her actions, no matter what, had been WRONG. Right? She'd ... done hurtful things to furs. Had discovered, at some point, that it was very easy for her to use lesser furs. Like prey. And had slipped into a pattern of emotional/physical abuse of them ... simply as a quick way to self-gratification.
That was wrong!
And it was HER choice to do it all. And she was just ONE predator. MOST predators did the same things! Acted the same way. At least, that's what Ross had come to know (through Aria's stories about the war with the foxes, and ... through what other prey crew-furs told him).
No, the animosity geared toward her (and the other predators) was justified.
Right? Or ... were prey so set against the predators (and vice versa) that there was NO objective side to any of this?
But ... from what Ross had been told, and what he'd observed ...
... the predators weren't misunderstood. No, no ... no, the prey understood them PERFECTLY. (Especially Aria ... and the snow rabbit had confided to Ross that ... the jaguar hated her so much BECAUSE the snow rabbit understood her better than anyone. And that scared the jaguar. Being pegged like that. But Aria's dealings with foxes had given her a keen insight into the predatory mind.) But ...
... the predator/prey rift ran very deep, clearly ... and was very divisive.
It was an instinctual problem. And a very real one.
Oh, being a fur gave SO much pleasure! But SO much confusion!
The mind reeled.
Ross's whiskers twitched. His ears swiveling. He was quiet for a bit before saying, "Mm ... well ... she likes my soup." A small, weary smile. "Maybe that's a start." A pause. "Plus, she doesn't care that I used to be human. It doesn't bother her ... anymore. At least, she doesn't mention it. Maybe she's more accepting than we think," he said, trying to be optimistic. And think the best.
Handel giggled. "Heh ... mm ... well," he relented, shrugging his shoulders.
After a moment, the vole said, "I'm, uh, drawing up my menu for day after tomorrow ... "
The porcupine perked. "Yeah?"
"Yeah, and ... you wanna help? I need some suggestions? I mean, I'm still not tuned to what each species like to eat. Mice like cheese. Rabbits like carrots, but ... like, you ... porcupines, and squirrels, and ... give me some pointers?" he asked quietly. "What meals should I make?"
"Hmm ... " Handel smiled.
Food was ALWAYS a pleasant, uncomplicated topic of conversation!
"Oh ... " Bell-Bell, panting hard, sucked on his cheek. Welly's white-furred cheek. Suck-suck, and ... push!
"Mmf!" The skunk's back was pinned to the wall.
"You, uh ... you ... "
" ... mm ... mm?" He pulled at her shirt.
She raised her arms.
Shirt off, he tossed it aside.
" ... you locked the door, right?"
"Oh ... " His pants being undone. Being pulled down by her hoof-like hands. "Course. Course, sweetie," he huffed, paws round her back. Unhooking her bra, and ...
... his briefs were round his ankles.
They were in sickbay. In the back corner. The two mates.
"My ... my tail's ... "
" ... caught in your underwear. Heh ... maybe ... uhn. Uh, maybe I should leave it there ... "
Huffing, tweaking her hardened nipples, and then licking at the fur of her breasts (oh, breasts were awesome!) ... the skunk giggled. "Hmm ... mm ... " Mouthing, mouthing wetly, and panting moistly. "Mm ... " Suckling, now, her left nipple. Suck, suck ... with eyes closed.
The deer rose to the tips of her hooves, her white-tail flagging behind her (out of his view). "Ohh ... oh, I ... oh ... "
He slobbered over to her other nipple. Sucked ... all while groping her beautiful backside. Gripping her lower back. Massaging, and ... straying to her white-furred rump-cheeks (which contrasted with the tan that covered her back, neck, and legs.
"Hmm ... hmm," she moaned, nose flaring, and her hoof-like hands worked to free the skunk's tail. Luxurious, silky, black tail. With the white stripe down it.
Welly stepped out of his clothes. Both of them fully naked. In the fur. Warm, furry bodies meshed together, worming, writhing in mutual want and need. A lusty love. Oh, love ...
The doe, flushed, swallowing ... held to her male's back ... as he rose up. To a full stand. Still to the wall, and ...
... kissing her. Muzzle sucking muzzle. Loose, wet lips to lips, and ... panting, hot breaths. Saliva. Sweetness.
"Oh ... oh, um ... y-you ready?" Welly whispered into her ear.
A weak nod from her. Panting. "Oh ... mm ... " A nod. A nod. A deep sigh. She was ready.
"Hold on, hun," he purred gently, wrapping her in the warmest safest hug. And lifting his fluffy tail fully up.
She waited, swallowing, body flushed and pulsing.
With a pleasure-moaning, tiny grunt ... Welly squirted from the gland at his tail-base. Another grunt ... another squirt. Squirting from his gland felt like a weaker, voluntary ejaculation. Which made it hard to retain any of the 'perfume' ... nature WANTED him to use it all. To fully hook his mate. The pleasure was there to make him do just that. And ... he strained and tried to fight the instinct, so he could save some of it for later, but the ejaculatory feeling felt TOO good ... so, despite himself, he grunted and squirted his full tank (as it were). His silky tail wavering instinctively ... to stir the air and waft the pheromones to Bell-Bell's nose.
She sucked air greedily, wanting it, and ... getting it! One whiff after another, and ... her heart hammered! Her pupils dilated. Her pussy tingled. Suddenly very wet. Oh, her mind went hazy ... almost like she were drunk. And yet ... not. The pleasure was SO warm ... so unbelievably good. Like ... so, so nice. Her knees buckled, and she draped over his shoulders. Panting. " ... oh ... ohhh," she breathed. Eyes watering shut. Her nose flaring. She sucked in breath after breath ... with the pheromones, even BREATHING felt pleasurable! Oh, breathe!
" ... h-hun, slow down. Don't ... breathe too fast."
She nodded. Holding her breath. Moaning from the throat. And exhaling. Inhaling. Holding it. Oh, it was even better when you held it! The pheromones stayed inside, and did such things to her body!
Her body was now loose. Was now ... very hot, very ready. The doe's body was PRIMED for yiff. And ... for him.
Him. She needed him. Wanted him. Him, him! She could ONLY think of her skunk ... his silky fur. The blacks and whites of him. The tail, and ... the smell! Oh! Mm!
"Hun ... mm ... h-honey," the skunk panted. He was erect now. His skunk-hood poking inch by inch ... out of his sheath. He needed it. "Honey," he moaned. His balls swollen, and sac tightening in anticipation.
"Mm," she went, grasping at his fur, sucking on his fur, breathing of his fur. Completely lost in his body. Kiss, kiss ... mouth ...
"You ... your turn," he panted. "Please? Mm ... we ... we agreed ... "
She huffed. Huffed, and nodded, and ... " ... oh ... o-okay," she whispered, still feeling WONDERFULLY dazed. She turned around, and ... wobbled to a med bed, and ... draped over it. Putting her belly and breasts on the med bed, and leaving her hooves on the floor. Leaving her legs still standing. So he could breed her from behind.
The skunk swallowed and licked his lips. She was lovely. She was beautiful. Oh, he loved her ... her sense of play! Her enthusiasm, and her confidence. A strong femme. In so many ways. He loved that about her ...
The doe's tail was lowered. He saw more of the tan upside ... than the pure-white underside. But that was about to change.
As luck would have it, both furs had a distinct yiffy advantage. The skunk had his pheromones. And the doe had her tail-signal. They didn't USE these things during EVERY yiff, but ... they used them often enough. And, today, they were using them.
It enhanced the pleasure and the feverish frenzy of ... of everything, and ...
... and ...
... she raised her white-tail. And, giggling, wriggling her rump teasingly, she flickered it! Flicker-flag! It resembled a wavering, white, furry flame. And the motion, in most furry males, triggered an irresistible urge to mount. Including skunks.
Welly, yipping, growling lightly, lost in the pleasured, needy urge ... huffed, huffed, belly now on her back. Roughly humping at her rump, trying to get between her legs ...
Bell-Bell panted, shifting to help him out, and ...
... he was in! Oh, oh! "Uhh! Huh ... huh," the skunk huffed, and now that he was IN ... the urge melted away. No longer needed. The wet, warm friction of her vagina was insurance he wouldn't pull out.
Bell-Bell, still drunk on his scent, giggled, wriggling her rump. Steering his penis like a joystick.
Gurgle!
"Heh ... heh," the doe huffed. "I love it ... when you ... heh, when you get tail-flagged, you're like ... mm ... so eager!"
The skunk panted. The thrill of being under her body's spell ... of being LOST in her. Oh, was thrilling!
"Mm ... W-welly ... mm ... "
"Y-yeah?"
"Are we ... crazy? Or just in love? Or both?"
"Mm ... crazy," he answered, "in love." He kissed her furry back, and slid himself forward, to a hilt. "Uhn ... "
She panted.
Hump, hump ... into her feminine pouch. Her smooth, slick, steamy sheath. That heaven between her legs. "Ohh ... ohhnn." Hump softly, softly ... a bit harder. And softly, softly ... his own special rhythm. Angling in slightly different ways, and ...
... her, panting, sniffing, huffing. "Oh ... oh, I'm ... " Sweat dripped from her nose to the med bed. "Uhhhnn," she moaned. As the skunk buried sensuously, deeply, and briskly pulled back. And plunged in again. He was going, going ... starting to ...
... lose cohesion. His humps grew unsteady. The pleasure was too much, and, and ... " ... ohhh! Uhm, uh!" A skunk-bark, possessively hugging her from behind. Nipping at her neck. Cock going spurt, spurt ... oh, spurt! Jerking skunk semen at her womb. The seeds could never take root, but it felt SO right to sow them! A shiver, and such a heat. And ...
... she came, too. After. Pussy in quivering, quaking spasms. Milking the spent cock, and ... causing the doe to writhe and scruff her hooves on the carpet. "Uhh ... uh, ohh ... " Deep breath! And weakly going limp. "Oh, Welly ... ohhh ... W-welly ... "
He hugged her tightly, warmly. Stroked her. Chest to her back.
"Mm," she whimpered, swallowing.
And he purred. Held. "Bell-Bell ... " He breathed her name.
They panted quietly.
Recovering.
Breathing.
He kissed her neck, gently, whispering, "Thank you ... " And how he loved her.
She breathed back the same, and ...
... the skunk pulled out, and took a breath. And flushed. "Darling," he whispered.
"Mm?" She turned to him, putting her arms around him. "Mm?"
"I really do," he insisted, "love you."
"I know," she whispered warmly. And she nuzzled his neck. "Mm ... we gotta shower now, don't we?"
"Mm-hmm." He nosed her back.
And the two mates went to the back of sickbay, into a shower stall. And washed the physical evidence of their love away. Sneakily storing the mental and emotional evidence away ... in their hearts and minds!
Furry love didn't wash off that easily! And thank goodness for that.