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As the Great Freedom War entered its thirty-second year, a high-velocity tungsten-jacketed bullet passed through Corporal Richard Hiccox's abdomen. At first he had no clue what had happened to him. The sensation was like being punched in the stomach, only there was no pain, just an oomph. He didn't feel himself fall, though the next thing he knew he was on the ground; on the dusty, trash-strewn tarmac of a deserted and destroyed urban street, staring up at bullet-pocked apartment buildings all chaotically strung with ad-hoc electricity cables, and sprouting dusty satellite dishes and air-conditioning blocks, and the cloudless blue sky and relentless sun above.

The firm female voice of his combat helmet klaxoned: "YOU HAVE SUSTAINED A NON-LETHAL INJURY, PLEASE REMAIN CALM." She repeated this statement over and over, drowning out all other sound. A bar on his battered, sandy-camouflaged combat-suit sprang up beneath his chin, preventing him from dipping his head and observing his wound.

"Ah shit" Rick grunted. He couldn't hear his own voice due to the klaxoning of his helmet. A strong set of hands took him by the shoulders and dragged him into alleyway, where his view of the sky was letterboxed by walls that were plastered with torn and greying foreign-language flyers. Rick was placed on his back, which he found more irritating than his bullet-wound since it crushed the fin protruding through the rear-plate of his combat armor, between his shoulders. "Watch the fin! The fin!" he complained, he wanted to be rolled onto his side.

His complaining was interrupted by the woman in his combat helmet. "SEDATION PROTOCOL INITIATED" she said. He experienced a sharp pricking sensation in his arm. His vision grew watery and his eyelids became like lead. He blacked out.

***

Rick regained consciousness two days later in a ward in an army hospital, a few hundred miles from the place of his wounding. At first he was baffled, he couldn't understand where he was or why he was there. Then he remembered: oh yeah, I got shot.

The Shark raised himself up on his elbows. His mouth was dry and he had a headache. Looking around Rick became aware that he was the ward's sole patient. It was nighttime and the ward was dark. Through a window he could see palm trees and a harbor with grey ships beneath a bright moon. There was a groove in the mattress for his fin, allowing him to lay comfortably. He had been dressed in a thin hospital gown. There was a saline drip in his arm and a heart monitor beeped steadily, which was reassuring.

There was a nurse's station at the far end of the ward, the on-duty nurse saw Rick was awake and approached. The nurse was a male, a Tiger whose stripy, burly arms curled out from a pale green short-sleeved top. He wore his ID on a lanyard around his neck.

"What happened?" Rick croaked, as the nurse approached his bed.

"In-and-out to the abdomen" he said calmly, as if reading from notes. "You were very lucky: no spinal or respiratory damage; you suffered some hydraulic shock however our scans suggest that's already half-mended. The surgeon a dumped a whole bag of Quick-Heal in you, so one way or another you should be right as rain within a few days."

"What about the patrol?" Rick asked.

"You were the only casualty."

"A sniper..." Rick muttered. His patrol would have pushed out and secured a perimeter, then waited for the medevac chopper-drone while the assault drones zig-zagged over the nearby rooftops. Same as always. He didn't ever bother to ask if they got the sniper. They never did.

"You'll be kept under observation for a few days," the Tiger nurse continued "as a precaution in case you show signs of infection. Then you'll be moved to a recovery ward."

"Sounds like a hoot."

"You can stay awake if you like" said the nurse. "Or we could sedate you, and you can sleep. Ordinarily we prefer to keep patients awake, since it's less work for us, but as you're the only patient we can make an exception."

"Hmm..." Rick pondered his options.

"Oh! And we've informed your parents," said the nurse. "They're aware the wound is neither life-threatening nor life-changing, but I'm sure your mother will want to-"

"Knock me out, please."

***

When Rick next regained consciousness two and half days had passed and he was in a recovery ward. It was a lively place, full of lightly wounded personnel enjoying their holiday in the hospital.

His saline drip and heart monitor were gone. They had dressed him in hospital pajamas; thinly striped trousers with a drawstring waist and a plain tee. When he checked under his shirt he saw that his dressings had been removed. There was a star-like bullet-scar, bisected by the line of a surgeon's incision, located above and a little to the left of his navel, and he imagined a similar situation existed on his back. His first thought was about how badass the scar looked on his bluish-grey abs.

Several messages were waiting for him on his bed's screen, the majority of which were from his mother, also a Shark. She didn't seem very concerned with his health, mostly she complained that he didn't call her more often. Apparently getting shot - and twenty-four years old, and brawny army guy - wasn't going to stop his mom from acting like his mom. He sent her a grudging reply, apologizing for not calling more often, adding that he was in the hospital but he was alright... There was a message from his unit; a short clip showing a dozen muscular dudes, several of whom were in their underwear, whooping and jumping around and wrestling amongst some olive-drab bunks. Their bellowing was so loud the microphone failed and the audio on the clip sounded corrupted. Rick sent them a reply too; he told them they were all products of incest.

Up to date with his correspondence, Rick was free to enjoy the many wonders of the recovery ward. There was a big TV he could watch, a ping-pong table that was in constant use, and each bed's general purpose screen came equipped with a LAN-linked games system on which the recoverees held daily squad-based, first-person shooter tournaments. East side beds vs. west side beds. The real-life soldiers took time out from a real war to play at war. Everybody noticed the irony and nobody thought it was a particularly clever observation.

Much of the time the guys (the plural guys seemed appropriate despite some of the patients technically being women, they were very guyish) killed time by chatting and gossiping, standing in the rough beige robes they wore over their hospital-issue pajamas. By far the most common topic of discussion was the Coital Recovery Program. Everyone was looking forward to their turn in the CRP.

After two days in the recovery ward Rick's doctor, a female Zebra holding the rank of Major, brought him a CRP form to fill in. It was a checklist of his sexual preferences. The doctor said bluntly: "Remember Corporal, you're describing your ideal lay, not a realistic girlfriend. Don't be chivalrous."

A Bobcat in the engineers occupied the bed beside to Rick. He had been shot through the ass, an accidental discharge, someone had dropped their rifle and it had gone off. 'One bullet, four holes' he had joked to Rick earlier. He was obliged to lay on his front while his butt mended. He was queer, married. He had opted out the CRP and so was living vicariously through his neighbors. He made sure to censure Rick's form once he had filled it in.

"Alright, let's see what you went with..." said the engineer, laying on his front in his bed with Rick's form in his paw-like hand. "Female, OK, I guess there's nothing wrong with that... busty, curvy, submissive, promiscuous, no foreplay... oh my god, is your ideal woman inflatable?"

"That's my ideal lay, not my ideal woman" Rick replied defensively from the edge of his bed, where he sat in his robe.

"Hey, I'm not here to judge!" said the Bobcat, grinning. "All the same you want to check the foreplay option."

"The doc said not to be chivalrous."

"No, I meant because they give you a longer session if you ask for foreplay."

"Shit, really? Give me that back" said Rick, intrigued, thrusting out large a bluish-grey hard.

"Hold on! I haven't finished yet" said the Bobcat. He read on. "Kinks and fetishes; none. Pfft! How disingenuous. And you've ticked the oral, anal, and vaginal boxes, huh, OK..."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," said the Bobcat, "I just didn't realize that you had a vagina."

"Give me the form."

"And..." the Bobcat continued reading, "oh my god, _cheerleader_costume? Are you for real?"

"I didn't like any of the options!" Rick protested. "She'll be taking it off pretty quick anyhow, what difference does it make?"

"Then pick swimsuit, at least that way you can still live near schools and playgrounds."

"OK seriously, give me my form" said Rick.

"Fine, take it, it's none of my business..." said the Bobcat nonchalantly. He held out the form and Rick snatched it back. "Chomo..."

"I'm changing it to swimsuit!" said the Shark, furiously amending his crumpled CRP form with his pencil.

***

Rick returned his form to his doctor, and thirty hours later she returned accompanied by one of the ward's physios. They fetched him away along a corridor, and steadily the hooting of his ward-mates dissipated and all that was left was the sound of his doctor's hooves clacking on the iron floor. They went first to an examination room where they took his temperature and measured his heartrate and blood-pressure. All good. Rick felt fine. Altogether he was in remarkably good shape for someone who'd been hit. There wasn't even any mental trauma, since he had seen or felt anything. His feelings mostly centered on a professional admiration for the sniper. Center of mass, helluva shot...

Then Rick's doctor left and the physio, a diminutive male Otter, had him put on a small pair of running shorts, attached electrodes to his chest, and made him run on a treadmill for ten minutes while his vitals were monitored. Rick passed the test with flying colors. The electrodes were detached and he was allowed to take a shower in an adjoining room, and he emerged in a cloud of steam with a towel around his waist. He tied his towel at the back, to allow his iconic sharktail to protrude where the towel overlapped. The tail dragged constantly along the ground behind him.

"One last thing before you start the CRP..." said his Otter physio as he returned from a medical station carrying a steel tray. On the tray were several transparent plastic swatches. "Bio-monitors," the physio explained. The swatches were adhesive, he stuck a swatch to Rick's chest, to the back of his neck, to the inside of his thigh and his lower back above his kidneys. Then, with Rick naked under his towel, the physio led him through into a clinically austere anteroom.

"Listen," the Otter said, "when you're in there; be vigorous, that's what we're here to test. Be physical, break a sweat. The more vigorous the better. But! And this part is important so remember it: she's not a fleshlight, she's not a toy for you to play with."

"Oh sure thing, doc, don't worry" said Rick.

"Speak up; announce your intentions. If she's not into it then you back off immediately. You got that cowboy?"

"Absolutely" said Rick. The physio was being very stern, though Rick supposed he had to deal with lots of jackasses and meatheads and so didn't take the lecture personally.

"If you have trouble with any of that, just bear in mind that your therapist is a Lieutenant in the Medical Corps."

"The lady I'm going to screw out-ranks me?" Rick asked, surprised but not incredulous.

"Oh yes, she's a trained nurse and a specialist therapist."

"Should I salute when I go in?" Rick half-joked.

"No" said the Otter. "Not while you're in session, but if you see her in the hallway afterwards, then, yes. Standard protocol would apply."

"Huh."

"Well, you're all suited up..." said the physio.

"Oh! Uh, will I need condoms?" Rick interrupted.

"Not today, your therapist has a subdermal implant that will prevent insemination and you've both been blood-tested within the last twenty-four hours. We're satisfied that you're both currently free from infection. You'll be shooting ropes today."

"Great, I just thought I should ask" said Rick.

"Good," said the Otter, and he took a step towards to the double-wide, electrically operated steel door with frosted glass windows. He placed a brown hand on the lock. "You've got a sixty minute session. One 'ding' means you have ten minutes left, two 'dings' mean you have one minute left. I'll expect you to be dressed when I return; I don't care if you're proud of it, I don't need to see it. Do you have any other questions before you go in?"

"No, that's - I'm great, thanks" said Rick. He was moments away from getting laid and so he was flustered and happy.

"Alright Corporal, in that case all that remains is for you to enjoy your time in the CRP" said the Otter. He pushed the button and the doors whooshed aside, and Rick wandered through.

***

Rick had anticipated a room, like a motel room. Something in the vein of the army's brothels. What he walked out onto was, to his surprise, an open-air roof terrace.

Blank, windowless concrete rose up on three sides, snaked with boxy aluminum air ducts that lead to the air conditioning units on the building's roof, with their familiar slow-rotating onion domes. The fourth side was a waist-high glass wall, off in the distance he could see the bay and the warships. The tiled flooring was warm under his bare feet, baked under the relentless sun, however the terrace was refreshed by the cool breeze that blew in off the ocean. Large tropical palms in concrete planters obscured Rick's view of the terrace. He heard trickling water and decided to follow the sound.

With one hand on his towel, which remained his sole apparel, Rick wandered curiously around the planters and swiftly came to a swimming pool. Water poured constantly from a spout at one end. At the pool's edge were several solid whicker sun loungers.

He saw her then, his therapist. She was a Deer, brown furred and with a white belly. Her hips were broad and her thighs were chubby, and her belly was soft and doughy. Her breasts were big and round and natural-looking, they covered and dominated her chest. She wore an undersized pink bikini and the shape of her boobs showed around her bikini-top's small panels, and her bikini-bottoms also left little to the imagination. Her neck was slender and her head was small in comparison to her body, her dish-shaped cervine ears were large, and her eyes were hidden behind a pair of plastic sunglasses that she wore balanced on her snout.

"Howdy" the Deer called in a friendly, casual fashion from across the pool. She had a Southern accent that Rick couldn't quite place.

"Uh, howdy yourself" Rick replied from across the pool.

"Are you my four o'clock?" she asked.

"That's right."

"Well then you'd better come on over."

"Uh, yes ma'am" said Rick. He paced self-consciously around the pool, trailing his tail along the ground behind him.

"Urgh!" she groaned as he approached. Rick could not tell for certain due to her sunglasses, but he sensed her rolling her eyes. "It fuckin' sucks when they tell you I'm an officer, you guys always get freaked out. You think you have to salute and stuff. So you can cut the _ma'am_crap."

"Is that an order?" Rick joked, grinning, as moved to stand beside her lounger.

"It can be" said the Deer, grinning "if you like we could do some kink stuff. Maybe I could tie you up."

"Another time, perhaps" said Rick.

"Are you sure? It's a nylon rope, soft yet strong, 12mmgauge. Are you sure I can't tempt you? And there's a costume I can change into. How do you like black leather?"

"That's OK" said Rick. He chuckled nervously.

"Hey, don't worry, I'm just yankin' your chain" she said, her smile broadened into something less teasing and more friendly. "I'm Celine" she added, extending a hand. Her light fur darkened on her fingers.

"Rick" said Rick, when she shook his hand she placed her fingers inside his palm in a dainty feminine fashion. He stepped back and sat on the edge of the nearest sun lounger.

"Are you going to fuck me from over there?" Celine asked, still smiling.

"No, uh, sorry!" Rick jumped up to his feet. His skin prickled, he raised a hand to scratch the itch and felt the plastic of his 'bio-monitor' on the back of his neck. He flinched and pulled his hand away. He grinned broadly to mask his embarrassment.

"Come sit with me" said Celine. She scooted over and made space on her lounger. Rick sat beside her, sitting up while she reclined. She touched his arm. "Oh, wow!" she gasped, she continued to rub and touch Rick's arm. "It's so..."

"Sandpapery" said Rick, completing her sentiment. His skin was akin to a very fine sandpaper, rough without being harsh.

"Yeah" said Celine. "Sorry, I've never worked with a Shark before. Do you wanna dive in and start, or...? I know you selected the foreplay option, but everybody picks that option so they can have a longer session."

"No, we can do foreplay" said Rick.

"We don't have to," she said "we can go off-playbook if you want. That form they make you fill in is a load of bullshit, nobody actually knows what they want until they're standing at the plate."

"No, I want to" Rick insisted.

"Are you sure?" the Deer asked from behind her sunglasses. "You don't look like the foreplay type."

"I'm sure."

"Alright" said Celine, and looked up at him expectantly. Rick hesitated, he wasn't sure where to begin. "Listen," said Celine "this feels weird because generally when two people get to this stage they've been around each other for a while, they're familiar. We just met, so we aren't familiar. So don't worry if this is strange, it's strange for everybody."

"OK" said Rick. It was a genuine relief to hear that.

"Start out slow, you'll soon get into the swing of things" said Celine.

"Right" said Rick. He bit his lower lip as he surveyed her curvy body and thought about where to begin. "Could I touch your boobs?" he asked.

"Be my guest" said Celine, and she relaxed back against her sun lounger and puffed out her chest prominently, causing her large breasts to rise and strain her tiny pink bikini-top. Rick, who was sitting side-on, on the side of the lounger, was twisting to face her, extended a large sausage-fingered hand and groped one of Celine's boobs. Her off-white fur was short and soft, and super-heated under the lamp of the sun. His fingers sank into the malleable, yielding flesh of her breast.

"Mmmm... you've got big hands..." Celine murmured.

"You know what they say about guys with big hands" said Rick, grinning, confidence growing.

"That their parents are cousins?"

"I remember ticking a box that said 'submissive'" Rick riposted back, grin widening.

"In that case, you can untie my bikini-top for me" she suggested.

"Righty-o" said Rick. The pink panels of her bikini-top were tied in the middle by a bow-knot, Rick pulled a thread and her top came loose. One panel slipped and uncovered part of her pink nipple, which was small in comparison with the rest of her bust.

"Do you like them?" Celine asked. She wiggled her chest from side to side, her heavy naturals sloshed and further dislodged her bikini-top.

"Yeah, uh, they're pretty swell" said Rick. He reached out again, with both hands this time, and he felt her bare nipple under his palm. He kneaded her breasts in his hands, he dragged them upwards towards her throat and experienced their weight. Rick's heartrate was rising steadily, and he experienced the swarming sensation of an on-rushing erection. He was exhilarated by desire. He wanted to move things forward. "Would it be alright if I used my mouth?" he asked.

"Sure thing, stud" said Celine. "And, you know, in future, you don't need to ask me for every new thing."

"OK" said Rick. He began to dip his head towards her chest.

"So!" Celine interrupted him, and he looked up, "if... hypothetically speaking, if you were to start kissing along my stomach, I would assume you were going to go down on me. So, in that scenario, you wouldn't need to ask to go down on me. Because I'd be expecting it. If that were to happen..."

Rick smirked. "Message received." The Shark shifted so he wouldn't have to twist, placing one knee on the lounger to face her. He bent over her, gathered her breasts in both hands and pressed them together, and, breathing heavily, dove in and kissed the hot fur of her chest. He lightly flicked her nipples with his thumbs until they grew hard and erect, and then he kissed them too. He formed an air-tight seal with his lips around her nipples and sucked, and drew back his head until the seal broke with a pop and her boobs jiggled back into their former condition. Celine writhed and hummed with pleasure.

"You can be rougher if you like" said Celine. No sooner had the words passed from her mouth than Rick crushed her boobs within a strong grip. "Mmm, that's right, keep going" she hummed. She placed a hand on Rick's scalp by a stubby ear-fin. She gazed at him, at his square jaw, and his broad, heavy shoulders rolling with muscle, his absence of tattoos. She was surprised, most army guys were inked, often substantially. When Rick pushed his snout into her cleavage she glimpsed ink on his back.

"Hey, what's that tattoo?" she asked.

"Hmm?" Rick looked up at her from under his hairless, bluish, aquiline brow.

"On your back."

"Oh, this?" Rick sat up and twisted, and showed her his tattoo. Covering one shoulder-blade, beside his iconic dorsal fin, he had a tatt of a shark-skull with 'x's in the eye sockets and a lit cigar between its teeth, and a set of crossbones below. "I guess it's pretty dumb" said Rick, "sometimes I think it's dumb in a good way and other times I think it's dumb in a bad way."

"I think it's the good kind," said Celine "I see a lot of tattoos, and I've seen stuff way dumber than that. Like, bad dumb. And I mean really bad, dumb."

"Thanks."

"OK, you can get back to work now" she said playfully.

"Let the healing begin" said Rick, and he ducked in and resumed sucking and groping Celine's boobs. He kneaded, kissed, pressed, rolled; and she enjoyed it tremendously. Celine's breasts were, as luck would have it, one of her favorite erogenous zones.

"Ah! That's fucking goo-ood!" Celine groaned, arching her spine off the lounger. Rick moved lower. He planted kiss after kiss on her chubby belly, and when he had gone too far south to maintain his grasp he slid his palms over her ribs. Soon he was past her navel and on course for her nadir.

As Rick arrived at the sloping foot of the lounger, Celine raised a leg up by his face and kicked a cloven-hoofed foot over his shoulder, and spread her legs provocatively. "Keep going" she said.

Rick loosened the threads that held her bikini-bottoms together. He glanced up at her, caught her eye, and then playfully grabbed the bottoms and whipped them off, denuding her in the style of a waiter whipping a tablecloth out from under a dinner set. Celine laughed yelpingly in surprise and delight at the abrupt action, while Rick tossed the bottoms over his shoulder, they sailed through the air, strings trailing, and landed on the surface of the pool.

He laid bare Celine's cervine pussy; her tidy pink labia and the fleshy ridge of her clitoris, all surrounded by the white fur of her crotch and the brown of her thighs. A glistening smear of liquid anticipation laced her vertical slit. A moment after the sight of her sex met his eyes the scent of her aroused sex met his nostrils. Driven by desire, without hesitation Rick plunged his face into her groin. He buried his snout in her crotch, drove his tongue inside her cooze.

"That's it! Yes!" Celine shrieked in a fit a passion as he ate her out.

Soon her writhing became erratic, uncontrolled. She threw back her head and her sunglasses fell off, bouncing and clattering onto the tile. Rick went down on her enthusiastically. She squirmed and he had to chase her.

Rick thought he might ramp things up further. He slung her thighs over his shoulders, took an encompassing hold around Celine's waist, and, without taking his mouth from her pussy, he lifted her hips and folded her. He rolled her onto her shoulders. Gravity compelled her boobs towards her neck, her chin was pressed against her collar and he supported her substantial butt against his chest. Out of provocativeness she straightened out her legs, and so it appeared as though she was performing a handstand, or trapped part-way through a cartwheel, while Rick buried his face between her thighs.

He crushed Celine's pussy. His chin was pressed against her butthole. He brushed his lips and explored her body with his tongue, he paid attention to her clitoris. He showed-off all his best moves. Under this pressure it wasn't very long before she was brought to climax.

"Aieeeee!" she squealed. Her thighs shook and her knees bent, her pose collapsed. She shook bodily and her stomach muscles crunched. Rick removed his mouth and unfurled her, letting her lay flat on the lounger. She lay there, limp and panting and twitching. Rick sat up on the foot of the lounger, and mentally congratulated himself on the efficacy of his oral talent.

***

Moments after her climax had abated, Celine swept her fur with her hands and threw her arms up in the air. "Woo!" she exclaimed. "That was some good fuckin' foreplay I don't mind telling you, now how's about you and I move on to the main event. What do you say?" She was full of energy. Her smile was bigger than ever.

"Sure, let's do it" said Rick, while wiping his pussy-juice and saliva coated chin and lips on the back of his hand.

"In that case, I've got one more question for you" said Celine. She rolled onto her front and got on her hands and knees, and then, with her back turned, she reached back and spread herself, stretching and opening her pussy and distorting her tailstar with her fingers. Her intimate parts were in no way covered by her small Deer tail. And she asked casually: "So, what'll it be, tailhole or pussy? Take your pick."

Rick smirked. He stood up, loosened his towel and let it drop, and let his tumescent genitalia spring free. And he answered, in the timeless fashion: "Yes."

"What do you mean 'yes'?" said Celine. "What kind of answer is that?"

Rick sighed. "Look over your shoulder."

"What the fuck are... oh" said Celine as she turned and looked, and a pair of fat, heavy, seven and a half inch cocks stared back at her. They were bluish, veiny, ridged on the underside and smooth on the top, and tapered to a pair of crowns. They were perfectly symmetrical, and emerged side-by-side over his heavy-hanging nuts like the twin prongs of a tuning fork. "Oh wow" she said "you got a double-dinger."

"Yep" said Rick. "The guys in my unit call me Rick Hardcocks". Celine looked at him blankly. "Because my last name is Hiccox. Hiccox - Hardcocks."

"Right" said Celine. "So, the guys in your unit, do you show them your dicks... often?"

"Well no..." said Rick pensively, standing nude before her, his hands on his hips. "Just because they've seen them that doesn't mean I'm showing them off. When you're in a unit together you don't really get to keep secrets."

"OK, that's fine, I wasn't trying to imply anything."

"It's not weird, if that's what you're thinking."

"No, of course not."

"So... do you wanna give these bad boys a whirl?" Rick asked.

"Hell yeah, put 'em in me" she said enthusiastically and resumed her previous position, while once again reaching back and splaying her holes. She was excited and couldn't repress a slight shimmy in her pose.

"It would be better if you were on your side" said Rick. "Since your ass and pussy are vertical and my dicks are side-by-side, so I don't have to twist 'em."

"A fine point!" said Celine. She flipped over and lay on her back, and twisted in the middle so she lay on one side of her hips and her legs extended off to the side.

Rick stroked his Sharkdicks, handling both in a single broad, encompassing grasp. "Are you ready?" he inquired as a clear strand of pre-seed descended from each of his straining tips.

"More than ready" she said hungrily, now that she had seen them she couldn't tear her eyes off them. She wanted them inside of her. Their ridges, their size. Her desire was intense and urgent.

"Both holes?" he asked.

"Fuck yeah! Do it!"

"Alright" said Rick. He knelt over her and aligned his twin cocks with their intended orifices. He nudged against her tailhole and slipped his other cock just inside her pussy, and pushed them both gently inside, going careful and slow to start with.

"Oh fuck!" Celine gasped as Rick carefully pushed into her with his pair of surging Sharkcocks, simultaneously penetrating her pussy and asshole. The tandem sensation was no less intense for Rick. Double the cocks meant double the nerve endings, and thus twice the sensation. Her supple interiors caressed him; the smooth tunnel of her pussy and the rippling, soft-walled cavern of her tailstar. He had done this before, with other women, but it was still pretty great doing it again. It was very much the type of pleasure that could withstand repetition.

He hilted his cocks inside Celine, causing a moan to escape her thin lips and sending her blue eyes rolling in their sockets. Then Rick began to hump, thrusting forwards and pulling the Doe towards him simultaneously.

"Yes! Yes! Fuck me good!" Celine cried out. Rick soon gained speed, depth and rhythm.

He humped and humped, pounding and pleasuring her holes with his double endowment. The minutes passed, he worked up a sweat. As his confidence grew so too did the strength of his thrusting. He slammed her. Her breasts wobbled and sloshed while the sound of his heavy, dangly nuts slapping against her echoed around the terrace. Each impact sent drops of pussy-juice flying everywhere. The sun beat down on his back and shoulders and his skin blazed. The earthy odor of their laboring bodies saturated the dry desert air.

Rick was approaching a climax and so was Celine. Though Rick was delaying his orgasm, since he wished to impress her. He thought hard about baseball statistics.

"YES! YES! FUCK! ME! HARDER!" Celine screamed. Her demand summoned a recent memory; the Otter physio guy, 'the more vigorous the better'. And Rick recalled the pieces of plastic, the bio-monitors, stuck to his chest and thigh and neck and elsewhere. An ordinary fuck wouldn't cut it. More vigor would be required. This was being recorded.

"Put your arms round me" said Rick suddenly, pausing his thrusting.

"What?"

"Put your arms round me" he repeated, and this time she got the message.

They embraced mutually. Chest-to-chest, Celine's boobs were crushed against Rick's chiseled pectorals. He leaned back and leveraged her up off the lounger, and then, lifting with his legs instead of his back, he rose to his feet. His dicks remained inside her throughout the maneuver. Rick turned and took a couple of steps away from the lounger, and adopted a reclining, bent at the knees stance, supporting her body on his hips and her weight on his thighs. Celine didn't face him head-on, instead her body was twisted at the hip and both her legs projected out at the same side, as though she were riding him side-saddle.

Rick humped upwardly, bouncing the slutty Deer on his hips, slamming his pricks up into her sloppy pussy and her sucking tailstar. Celine gasped with delight, and when Rick bounced her again her gasp was punctuated by the impact. He bounced her in his lap at a steady pace. He could not go as fast but now with gravity on his side he impacted her more resolutely and thrust his cocks deeper, and so pleasured her more intensely.

He grunted and she moaned. His hips rhythmically impacted her ass, and his heavy nuts swung freely between his muscular thighs, unimpeded due to his broad stance. Her cunny-juice dripped over his balls and ran in fingers down his thighs before evaporating.

"I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum!" Celine yelled, eyes closed in ecstasy.

"Should I slow down?" Rick grunted.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!"

Celine experienced yet another body-wracking climax, shuddering so violently that Rick found it impossible to hold onto her. His cocks slipped from her clenching pussy and her twitching asshole. Her legs dropped and she stood, with knees turned inward and ankles turned outward, and continued to climax as she stood. Many drops of water fell from her pussy in rapid succession, and she held onto Rick's shoulder to keep from falling. She shook all over, and snaked a dainty hand down between her thighs and rubbed compulsively at her rhythmically clenching crotch.

"Oh my," she said shakily, delicately "those double-dicks of yours really did a number on me. They're really somethin'."

"They'll do that" said Rick. He was breathing heavily, hard chest rising and falling, stomach heaving. His rock-hard dicks were covered in her juices.

"Shit... were you close?" she asked faintly.

Rick shrugged. "Not really." He was lying. Much longer and he would have climaxed with her.

"Don't brag" said Celine. "Oof!" the Deer shook her head like a sports player trying to get back into the game. "Alright, I got at least one more left in me. So tell me jarhead, how do you want to finish this?"

"How about... against the wall" said Rick, proffering the statement with a conscious swagger.

"Aw yeah! Back-alley style, that's perfect, let's do it!" Celine enthused. Her eyes were bright and wild. She stumbled on cloven hooves, heavy boobs bounding on her chest, over to the toughened-glass wall that edged the terrace. The terrace overlooked a dusty concrete lot, a derelict garage and a high-voltage transformer. She bent forwards and placed her hands on the aluminum top rail, where she locked elbows and widely parted her ankles. Rick followed, hot on her heels.

"Do you want it in both, like before?" he inquired, impatient for an answer.

"No," said Celine, looking back over her shoulder "I want you in my pussy. Both of your cocks. Double-stuff me!"

"Are you sure? I don't mean to blow smoke or anything but you were plenty tight when there was only one..."

"I know what my pussy can handle" she rebuked him. There was a beat silence. "Do it!" she demanded breathlessly. She turned her head and looked forward, at the garages and the transformer. Her pussy was dripping, puffy, rosy, and her labia was parted by itself.

"Alright, here goes" said the hunky Shark. He stepped up behind her, holding his pair of cocks together with one hand while resting his other hand on her hip. He nudged his tips against her pussy. It was difficult to see how this was going to work, but he was willing to try. Rick had to twist his dicks as there was no chance of fitting them in side-by-side. He turned them so one was slightly above the other, almost stacking them, and somewhat gingerly eased them inside.

"Oh fuck!" Celine gasped as her pussy was stretched. She was an incredibly tight fit, and his cocks rubbed against and stimulated one another in a way that could be accurately described as self-frottage. Rick had never double-stuffed anybody before. She felt great, better even than her tailhole and pussy had been. However he couldn't shake the idea that he was causing her pain.

"Are you sure this is alright?" he asked.

"Yes, you big wuss, keep going!" she yelled. It was obvious that she was in some discomfort, and was nonetheless determined to power through. He deferred to her judgement.

"Alright..." said Rick. He kept on pushing and to his amazement her pussy accommodated him and he slipped deeper inside. He pushed himself within her until the whitish fur of her round jiggling butt touched his firm groin. Her tailstar was stretched and deformed by the huge penetration taking place nearby.

"Oh fuck..." Rick muttered, the pleasure was affecting him as well.

"That's it, fuck me... fuck me good..." Celine moaned incoherently as her front gate was bent off its hinges.

Rick thought it would be better if he stopped talking and focused on fucking. He pulled back, then thrust forward and hilted inside her once more. He went slowly. He thrust a third time, a fourth, a fifth. With each successive push his motions became easier for him and less discomforting for her, as her body became accustomed to the challenge it had been tasked with.

After a dozen or so further over-considered thrusts Rick found he was gliding, and he realized that he didn't need be so cautious. He planted his feet more firmly and sank his fingers into her soft flanks, and thrust with a sudden vigor. Rick's groin slapped her rear audibly, a tremor-wave of impact rippled over her furry ass, jiggled her hanging breasts into motion, and seemingly impacted her lungs causing her to cry out in a gratified groan. His experiment was successful, and Rick powered forward with several strong arrhythmic thrusts. Celine's cries of ecstasy echoed across the vacant lot below.

Speed and a steady rhythm was impossible, and Rick's humping was lethargic. His movements were heavy and strong. Each thrust existed on its own. His nuts jangled between his thighs, and would occasionally swing up and clap Celine's hyper-sensitive clitoris, and in those moments her cries would punctuate the stream of mumbled, barely coherent, expletive-laden demands that flowed constantly from her open-hanging mouth.

Rick sweated and grimaced, he thrust and fucked and pounded for all he was worth, he kept his mouth shut and focused on his task and the pleasure it brought him. He worked hard, they sweated noticeably and Celine's fur darkened and clumped where it was dampened. Consequently his pleasure developed and gathered, plunging onward to an inevitable finish.

Rick felt his peak approaching. "Almost there!" he grunted.

"Wait!" Celine called out. "On my chest!" she pulled off, Rick's cocks popped from her gaped pussy. She spun around and dropped quickly into a sitting position, facing Rick with her back against the glass. Rick stepped in and she stroked him to his climax; one fat, slippery, seven-and-a-half inch cock in each hand.

Seconds later Rick shot a massive load, shooting rope from both of his dicks. He hadn't beaten off for at least a week and as such his balls were overflowing. Celine angled his cocks downwards and he fire-hosed her breasts. Cloudy semen entirely saturated her fur, and before he was done shooting the watery part of his seed was running into the gap between her breasts and trickling over her belly. The orgasm hit Rick hard. The pleasure was almost overwhelming. His thigh muscles spasmed and his toes curled, and his whole body tensed in time with the pulses of his climax. It was as though he was ejaculating with every muscle in his body.

When he was finally done he stepped away from Celine, turned and dropped heavily onto the sun-warmed tile. He dropped more heavily than he intended, and rolled sideways as though he was drunk. He was light-headed and dreamy. His softening cocks wilted between his thighs and his balls rested in the tile. He heard another moan and turned his head, and noticed Celine rubbing between her thighs, masturbating with his cum. She brought herself off quickly, then fell over on her side, her sweaty shoulder smearing the glass, and lay panting, all fucked-out.

***

After a few minutes Celine stood up and wandered off. She vanished behind the broad leaves of some tropical palms, then Rick heard a shower running. A minute or so later he too got to his feet and followed. He found her in the shade, beneath a showerhead that protruded from the wall. Nearby there was a blank door, a cooler, and a table with fresh towels and clothes.

"There's a bathroom through there if you need it" said Celine, in reference to the door "and there's snacks and sodas in the cooler."

Rick went over to the cooler and flipped the lid. "Aww tight, there are sandwiches in here!" he exclaimed and began enthusiastically pawing through the cooler's contents. He selected a breaded chicken, BBQ sauce and coleslaw sandwich, tore off the wrapping and started eating. Celine shut off her shower, took a towel and set about roughly drying herself. Since he was feeling pretty grimy Rick took her place under the showerhead. He punched the dial to start the water running. The water was cool; refreshing and welcome after the heat of the sun.

Celine was staring at him.

"What?" Rick asked.

"Nothing," said Celine" it's just... I never saw anybody eat a sandwich in the shower before."

While she had been talking Rick bitten into his sandwich, which he was holding out the stream of the shower to keep it from disintegrating. "Isha' a' prob'bum?" he mumbled, mouth full.

"I feel that it should be" said Celine wryly.

Once washed they returned to the loungers beside the pool, to sunbathe nude. Rick lay partly on his side, of course, due to his fin. "So uh..." said Rick, making small-talk, "how long have you been doing this type of thing?"

"Almost eighteen months now..." said Celine cheerfully, and she launched effortlessly into an enthusiastic expounding on her current occupation. She explained, with obvious delight, that she had been having sex anywhere up to four times a day, four days a week, for a year and half. She bragged that she had lost track of the number of times she'd been laid, but calculated it was over a thousand times, and with a thousand different people.

She told him about the biggest cock she ever encountered, which belonged to a near-on seven foot tall, shaggy-haired Draft Horse, who happened to be a cook in the Corps of Caterers. How he'd gotten injured she did not say, but apparently he was a really nice guy who was entirely embarrassed by his mammoth endowment. In the end she'd given him an exhausting two-handed handjob, for lack of an alternative.

She talked complainingly about working with women. That got Rick's attention. Up until then he had been only half-listening, the mention of girl-girl stuff piqued his interest. She complained that women were far harder to satisfy. Even the most energetic guy, she said with authority, was finished in fifteen minutes, and then would need a twenty minute break. By comparison, the average lesbian would be more or less active for the full hour. She complained that women were exhausting.

Celine's description of exhaustive lesbian intercourse caused Rick to become sexually aroused again, and since he was nude and stretched out near her, it was not a thing Celine could fail to notice or let go unmentioned.

"Do you want to go again?" Celine asked. "We've got time."

"Sure" he replied. So she sucked him off, at her request. She was enamored by his double-dicks and wanted to explore them. She stroked him, first taking one in each hand, then by pressing them together. She attempted to fit both inside her mouth.

After a short while Rick decided he wanted to return the favor, and he had Celine swing her leg over his head, and they _sixty-nined_into a mutual albeit non-simultaneous climax. When Rick blew one cock exploded in her mouth while the other splattered his cum across her cheek, and then she needed to wash up again.

Rick wiped his mouth and lazed on the lounger while his pair of spent cocks gradually returned to flaccidity. Idly he scratched the back of his neck, and his fingernail caught the plastic 'bio-monitor' and he accidentally peeled it off. "Ah shit..." he muttered.

When Celine returned she found Rick holding the swatch. "It fell off" he said, then he grinned and joked ironically "I hope this doesn't mean we have to start over."

Celine responded indifferently. "Eh it doesn't matter" the Deer said, shrugging, before taking a gulp from a can of cream soda that she had picked out from the cooler.

"I thought these things were monitoring something?" Rick asked, puzzled.

"OK, shit, uh..." she had let slip information that she ought to have kept secret. "OK so maybe I shouldn't have told you that. Right, so, those aren't real 'bio-monitors', they're just bits of plastic."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she said "it turns out you guys fuck harder and longer when you think someone's recording you. Like, you're going to be afraid whoever's putting the data into the computer will see your numbers and be like 'woah, this guy doesn't know how to fuck'. And then the other white-coats will gather round and be like 'holy shit, I didn't realize numbers went that low', or... whatever."

"OK." said Rick. "I guess that makes sense."

"It's still measured" said Celine. "It's still a test."

"So there's a score after all?"

Celine sighed. She really shouldn't be telling him this stuff. "You get a score out of eighty. There are eight categories; stamina, vigor, enthusiasm, and so on, and I score you out of ten in each category. Forty is a pass. The bits of plastic makes the whole arrangement feel more... clinical, and less personal. Basically it helps stop guys from falling in love with their therapist."

"Huh" said Rick, "well I hope I passed."

"Yeah you'll pass don't worry." Then interrupting them was a subtle, muted 'ding!', sounding like a soft hammer striking a metal sheet. Rick looked around for the source of the noise while Celine did not. "That's the ten minute ding" she said.

"Yeah, no, I remember" said Rick.

Celine fished her bikini-bottoms from the pool where they were floating, and the two of them retired to the table containing the fresh clothes. Rick redressed in the hospital-issue gear while Celine reapplied her bikini, and put on a terrycloth robe on top. To fill the idle minutes, Celine remarked that there weren't very many Sharks in the Army. Rick replied: Yeah, we're all in the Navy. He went on to add that the only reason he wasn't in the Navy himself was because he couldn't stand seafood, which he (still) assumed was what sailors ate when they were at sea. Celine chose not to correct him.

The last few minutes were pretty awkward. It was tough starting a conversation, or any other activity, when they knew it would be interrupted soon anyway.

Two dings! sounded, and precisely a minute afterwards the double-doors whooshed aside and the Otter physio returned. "You're wearing pants, congratulations, that's better than most" he said, and he took the slips of plastic, his so-called bio-monitors.

"Well Corporal, it was fun working with" said Celine, holding out a dainty hand to Rick.

"Likewise" said Rick and they shook, and he turned and allowed himself to be led back inside.

***

Rick remained another day in the recovery ward before his Doctor declared him able to return to duty. He was sent to the armory, where he was equipped with a brand new auto-rifle and a pristine sandy-camo combat suit, which Rick loathed as the new suit was not heavily scuffed and sun-whitened like his old suit. He boarded a massive two hundred-seat, dual-rotor transport helicopter along with about a dozen other people, and after a three hour flight he was reunited with the rest of his unit.

Three days later he was back on the line. Leaving base, heading out to towards the smashed and burning city where he had been wounded, Rick and the troops of his unit passed a bullet-riddled, half-destroyed, fire-charred road sign that read:

Welcome to Texas, Drive Friendly - The Texas Way.

*****

That's it, that's the story, hope you had a good cum. What's up with that last bit, huh? What's happening there? What's the context to that? Has America been invaded? Which side are Rick and Celine on? Are they the good guys? Is America the bad guy? Do good guys and bad guys even exist in this timeline, is it that clear-cut? Does America even exist? Damn. Pretty trippy stuff. Certainly not stupid or anything.