FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 2

Wowzers! This took the better part of three days! But it was worth it to serve up some hot and spicy smut for your viewing pleasure. Unfortunately, I am going to have to go on a short hiatus to catch up on some school work that I missed while writing this, but fret not, for I will return in a week or two or three, with some more lovely story, and even more lovely smut. See you then!

(If you're just looking for the smut, like I know that some of you are, it's about 3/4ths of the way through. You're welcome.)

Remember: feedback is what sustains writers (and money, but that's not really applicable here). It keeps us going and lets us know that people enjoy our work and are taking time to analyze and appreciate it.

And if you're an American, Liberian, or Burmese, a third of a meter is almost thirteen inches.

On to the story!

*Another manual space. Another complaint about formatting.*

It was very quiet when George woke up. All he could hear was the trickle of water somewhere close by; apparently the rain had stopped. He opened his eyes, and saw the dark grey sky above him, framed by the off-white walls of the reservoir. His entire body was one giant ache.

Trying to sit up, George found that he couldn't.

'Oh god, have I been paralyzed?'

Desperately, he tried again, and this time succeeded, coming away from the surface he was lying on with a disgusting *schlop*. Looking down, he realized that he was had been laying half-submerged in thick mud at the far side of the reservoir. The lower section of the wall had collapsed here too, letting in a huge pile of dirt which had combined with the water to make a thick, sticky, but very impact-absorbing goo.

The first thing he did was try to use his comm-link, but all he got was static. He was either too far away from his comrades, or more likely there was too much dirt and metal in the way. Or they might all be dead, a possibility that he refused to consider.

George stood up, and was relived to find that he didn't appear to have broken anything. He also realized that he was still wearing his backpack, which he had entirely forgotten about during the earlier chase with the xenomorph.

'Speaking of...'

The private hurriedly looked around the room, and found the offending creature on the far side, lying on a sheet of heavily corroded metal. It wasn't moving.

His hand crept down to his holster, which was empty.

'Fuck, where is it?'

George frantically looked around and spotted his gun lying in the mud a few meters away. Thanking his lucky stars, he quickly squelched over to it and picked it up, wiping off the grime on the cleaner half of his uniform. He checked the chambers; two bullets left. That was ok, he had two dozen more in his ammunition belt. He hurriedly reloaded, looking up at the xenomorph again as he did.

It hadn't moved.

Separating him from it were a few dozen meters of clean water, where the mud hadn't piled up high enough to break the surface.

George looked down at his now fully-loaded revolver, then back up at the xeno. 'Might as well finish the job.'

He waded into the water, which came up to his neck at one point. That was fine, his ammunition and pack were water-proof. He briefly dipped his head beneath the surface to clean the muck out of his hair and helmet, then continued onward.

Slogging out of the water, he cautiously approached the alien, keeping it's domed head in his iron sights in case it tried something.

It didn't.

As he got closer, George realized why it wasn't moving. There was a huge gash across its belly, which it was fruitlessly trying to hold shut with its hands. The entire metal sheet it was lying on was stained dark green from the blood; which explained the corrosion. Little rivers of acid were running off of it and down through the muck into the water, where it was carried away by a heretofore unnoticed current.

Looking up, George saw a long piece of rebar sticking out of the wall, with a large green stain and considerable corrosion at its tip. The creature must have hit it on its way down.

The private started as the xeno weakly lifted its head and turned to look at him silently. George tightened his grip on the trigger, ready to kill the thing which had tried to do the same to him.

The xeno mewled pathetically, then lay its head back down, apparently accepting its fate.

The gun shook in George's hand. The creature looked so helpless, so alone. Its breathing was light and quick. The mewl still echoed within the cavernous chamber, hammering into his ears. Green blood dripped steadily from the great gash in the thing's midsection.

"Oh... fuck it!" George exclaimed, letting his arm fall to his side. Frustration burned within him. If wasn't able to kill one stupid bug, then how was he going to fare in actual battle?

"Fine." He told the alien pointedly, "I'll leave you here and let you bleed out. Alone. It's what you deserve for trying to kill me earlier, and for taking such joy in it!"

He turned his back on the alien, which was never a good idea, but in that moment the private didn't care. He was too flustered.

Looking around, he spotted a steel ladder which went up a few meters to a catwalk which was built into the side of the reservoir. There was a hatch built into the section of wall that the catwalk protruded from.

'There's my exit.'

Holstering his gun, George walked over to the ladder and clambered up it and onto the catwalk. Facing the hatch, he took a firm hold of the circular handle that protruded from its center and twisted as hard as he could, sighing with relief when it turned and the door swung open, revealing the inside of an airlock. Trying not to look back at the helpless form below, he stepped inside.

There was another door of the same type on the opposite side, which he pried open and stepped through, emerging into a white-tiled hallway, lit by dim yellow emergency lights. He switched on his helmet-mounted flashlight, which thankfully still worked, and slunk down the hall, making as little noise as he could.

It was a long hall, and at the end was a pair of grated steel doors. Behind them was a pile of twisted metal and concrete; the remains of an elevator. A few meters away was a metal door labeled "Stairwell". George tried to open the door, but it was wedged shut from the other side. He rammed his shoulder against it several times, but only managed to crack it open wide enough to peer through. The stairwell was like the elevator; filled with debris. He realized that even if he could get the door open, the stairs had collapsed. No escape that way.

The private sighed and leaned against the wall, slowly sliding into a sitting position. He cradled his head between his knees, and let out a strangled sob. He was trapped and alone down here. He could die, and no one would know or care.

'You're not the only one in that position.' A small voice in the back of his head pointed out.

George looked back down the hallway, at the hatch which he had entered through.

'When I became a doctor, I swore an oath to do no harm, even through inaction. And if I'm going to die down here, then I refuse to die alone.'

He got back to his feet, and quickly started exploring the rooms that flanked the hall. The first one he entered confused him. It was a control room looking out on a line of prison cells.

'What the hell did they need this for?'

He didn't have time to investigate further, so he jogged out and went to the next room. As he entered he stopped dead. It was a laboratory. A twisted and disturbing laboratory, but a laboratory none-the-less.

The walls were lined with cabinets, counters, and refrigerators, and in the center of the room, under an array of surgical lights, was a large table that was made from some dull grey metal that George did not recognize. It had restraints built into it, and was stained green with xenomorph blood.

Then all the pieces came together. This wasn't a medical installation; it never was. That was just a cover for Weyland-Yutani's real project: experimentation and weaponization of xenomorphs.

A knot of pity formed in George's gut and he doubled over, feeling sick to his stomach. Apparently some doctors did not take their oath as seriously as he did. No wonder the xenos seemed to hate humans so much.

But if he was going to find medical supplies fit for a xenomorph, then this was the place. Laying on a tray next to the table was a pair of thick black rubber gloves, also stained slightly green. George could only assume that they were acid-proof, so he took them. He rifled around in the cabinets until he found a surgical staple gun and a large pail, and was about to leave when, on a whim, he decided to look through the refrigerators. In the last one, he found an odd looking spray canister. Next to it was a note, which simply said "Anti-acid flexi-plaster".

Hoping it was still good, as the refrigerator wasn't functioning, George shook the canister, and experimentally sprayed it at a wall. Tiny white particulates sprayed from the nozzle, and covered the targeted section of wall with a thin white film, with a flexible, rubbery texture. He pocketed the canister, hoping that it wouldn't hurt the xeno.

George jogged out of the room and back down the hall to the airlock. Stepping back out onto the catwalk, he noticed that it was raining again, albeit gently. He climbed down the ladder and slowly approached the xenomorph again.

It remained motionless, except for its head, which slowly rotated to face him.

Not knowing what else to do, George smiled and waved at it. "Hi. It's me again."

The xeno laid its head back down.

Setting down the rest of his equipment, the young marine squelched down to the pool of water and filled up the pail. Trudging back up, he poured it over the metal slab, cleaning off the acid so he could kneel down on it. He filled the pail from the pool again, and then set it down on the edge of the metal sheet. He fumbled around in his pack, before taking out a package of water sterilization powder and emptying it into the bucket. Putting the empty bag away, he retrieved the gloves from his pocket and started to pull them on.

The xenomorph did not react well to that. Pulling its lips into a snarl, it hissed loudly and angrily, the razor-sharp blade on the end of its tail twitching, warning of the consequences that pissing the creature off would incite. Obviously it had run into people wearing gloves like that before.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." George murmured quickly. He tried to think of what he could do to placate the creature before he started working. Painkillers or not, this was going to hurt a fair bit, and he wasn't even sure if the pain pills he had were compatible with xenomorph biology.

He looked down at the alien's domed head, which was tilted toward him expectantly. The snarl had mostly subsided, but the lips were still pulled back threateningly.

Unable to think of any other solution, George decided to do something that under any other circumstances would have been utterly insane. He smiled the most kind and good-natured smile he could muster, reached out with his ungloved hand, and rested his bare palm on the xeno's dome.

It wasn't cold, per say, but it was definitely cooler than room temperature, and quite smooth. George couldn't resist running his thumb along it to really feel the texture.

The xenomorph's lips and general posture quickly relaxed, and it even pushed up into his hand a bit, which the marine found surprising. It didn't seem to be a stranger to complex emotional displays.

'Perhaps their hive dynamic is more complex than we thought.' George reasoned. Putting that line of inquiry aside for the moment, he decided to do something even more insane to gain the creature's trust as much as he could. After all, he would need its full cooperation if he was going to keep it calm and still enough to operate on.

Taking a deep breath to try and calm his pounding heart, George lowered himself down and lay facing the xenomorph, his face just a few centimeters from his new companion's.

This was it. If the xeno intended to kill him, now was the time. If it wanted to, it could open its jaws and ram its inner mouth through the marine's skull faster than he could blink.

But it didn't. It stared at him eyelessly for a few seconds, then it inched its own head forward and touched its forehead to George's, purring gently.

"Thank you." George murmured quietly, letting out a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding in. The alien continued to purr, nuzzling his forehead with its own.

"I'm going to try and help you, but you have to stay still and calm, okay?" The human said, pulling back from the creature's display of affection.

The xeno stopped purring, but didn't become hostile again. It cocked its head, seeming curious.

"Here." George turned away for a second to dig through his pack, until he pulled out a red and white bottle of pain killers. He unscrewed the cap and took one out, presenting it to the xenomorph in the palm of his hand. "Swallow this."

The xeno looked at the pill, then up at him. It cocked its head again.

George sighed. Of course it wouldn't know what he meant. 'There's only one practical way to communicate...'

Taking the pill between his fingers, the human placed it at the back of his throat, and made a show of swallowing it without chewing.

The xeno observed attentively.

"See that? Now you do it." He fished another pill out of the bottle and presented it to the xenomorph.

In response, the xenomorph angled its head at him and opened its jaws as wide as it could, giving George an unobstructed and quite disturbing view of the inside of its mouth.

If this had been in a laboratory and the creature been restrained, George might have found this display fascinating. As it was, he was really just creeped out. The inside of the xeno's mouth was all black, just like the creature's exterior, except for the long, crystalline, and razor-like teeth that jutted from both of its jaws.

He could see the secondary set of jaws lurking at the back of the creature's mouth, just above and in front of the entrance to its throat. Something squirmed back there, and George blinked in shock as a long, black, and forked tongue emerged from the secondary jaws. That was not a feature that had been mentioned in the textbook. It had long been thought that the secondary jaws were the xenomorphs' tongues, which was now obviously wrong.

A small part of George's mind also noted that, aside from the long, needle-like fangs at the front of the xeno's mouth, the rest of its dental structure was remarkably like that of a human, with canines and molars in approximately the right places.

He stared into the gaping maw for several long moments before he realized what the xeno wanted him to do. "Oh. You want me to... stick my hand back there and put the pill..."

He shivered. "Between all those teeth?"

As though understanding what was putting the human off, the xenomorph retracted the fangs at the front of its mouth back into its gums, doing the same for the little mouth too.

'Oh lovely.' George thought wryly. 'More features that the textbook didn't mention.'

Deciding to bite the bullet, and praying that the xeno wouldn't bite him, he took the pill between his forefinger and thumb, and slowly reached into the creatures mouth. When he was about halfway in, he felt something warm and slimy wriggling across his hand. He realized, with a sickening churn of his stomach, that it was the alien's tongue, probably tasting him and analyzing his scent. He wondered if he tasted and smelled good. He wondered if he didn't. Silently, he pondered which was worse.

Finally, he reached the xeno's throat, and deposited the pill there, quickly pulling his hand back out. When his precious appendage was clear, the alien snapped its jaws shut, turned its head vertical, and loudly swallowed.

Feeling a little more confident, George wiped the alien's saliva off on his pants, and pulled on the other glove.

Smiling at his companion, he gently bumped the xeno's dome with his forehead again, prompting it to purr happily.

"Okay, so, fair warning, this is going to hurt. Possibly a lot." George warned, putting on a serious face.

The xeno stopped purring.

The marine continued, "When it does, please don't, you know... kill me." He couldn't help but glance at the blade at the end of the xenomorph's tail, which glinted wickedly in the glow of the marine's flashlight.

His companion followed his gaze, and promptly tucked its tail underneath itself, as if saying "Don't worry. I won't do anything with it."

George looked at the xenomorph gratefully, and it purred some more. It occurred to him that he was probably the first person in the history of the galaxy to be able to count a xenomorph as a friend. It also occurred to him that it might all be just an act. Xenos were smart, and it was entirely possible that this one was just pretending to be nice hoping that he would heal it, and then when he was done it would just kill him and eat him.

George shivered. He hoped that wasn't true.

Picking up the pail of water, he said "Ok, here we go" and gently poured some onto the gash in the alien's stomach, washing away the acidic green foam that had accumulated there and cleaning out the wound.

The xenomorph tensed and twitched a little, but didn't react violently.

"Ok, that was the easy part." George muttered, more to himself than to his new friend. He set down the pail and gently probed at the wound with the tip of a finger. He had to find out if there were any debris or fragments of metal inside before he could close it up. Thankfully the bleeding appeared to have stopped, which made his task significantly easier.

The xeno made a pained squeak and twitched some more, but appeared to be making an effort to stay still and quiet, which George greatly appreciated. He tried to convey this by smiling gently at the xenomorph again, who let out a strained purr in response.

Finishing his examination and thankfully finding nothing, George moved on to the final stage of the operation: sealing the wound.

He poured some of the water over his gloves to wash off the acid he had gotten on them, then picked up the stapler and grimaced apologetically at his patient. "This is the part that's really going to hurt."

He took hold of the skin on either side of the tear and pressed it together, before pressing the stapler to it and pulling the trigger.

There was a loud click and the xeno squealed, tensing heavily and kicking its legs. When it calmed down, George repeated the process. This continued for about five minutes, until he had stapled the entire wound closed.

By the time the deed was done, the xenomorph was panting heavily and twitching erratically. George wasn't sure if the pain medication had worked, but thanked his stars if they had, because he doubted that the xeno would have been able to take it if it hadn't.

"Ok, here's the last step, then we're done." He said soothingly, taking the anti-acid canister out of his pocket. He shook it, then sprayed it over the wound, watching with satisfaction as the spray became cohesive and sealed the gash shut. He waited for it to set and acquire its rubbery texture, then doused the area with sterilized water one last time.

George cleaned his tools and put them away, then stripped off his gloves and cleaned those too, stowing them in a spare pocket in his backpack.

"Ok!" He said, beaming down at his new friend, "You're all set!"

He dumped the contents of the pail out into the pool to be washed downstream, then returned and sat down cross-legged next to the xenomorph. He was beaming with pride. He'd done it! He'd successfully performed surgery on a xeno. He was probably the first person in history to have done that, or at least the first with good intent. And he'd made a new friend! Or, at least, he thought he had. George looked down at his patient, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw it baring its teeth at him.

"What'd I do?" He asked frantically, afraid that his earlier fears about the friendliness being an act were coming true. The creature made no move to attack though, it just sat there baring its teeth at him. Then George noticed that the sides of its mouth were curved upwards, in the rough approximation of... "A smile!" he exclaimed "You're trying to smile at me, like I did at you!"

The xenomorph hissed in affirmation.

"Aww! You're such a cutie!" George cooed, scratching the xeno under its chin. And he meant it too. Behind that murderous demeanor, the creature's body was actually quite pleasing to look it. It had a fascinating biomechanical aesthetic, and the way its exoskeleton components shone in the low light was really quite fetching. In a few ways it was even subtly sexy, but he tried not to think about that.

The xenomorph purred and pushed its dome into his palm.

George leaned down and bumped his forehead against the alien's, prompting it to purr louder.

"And to think we were trying to kill each other just a few hours ago." He reflected out loud.

The xeno playfully bumped his forehead in return, as if to say "The past is the past."

They pressed their foreheads together and George began humming a simple tune.

His companion listened for a moment, then began humming it with him.

This continued until the rain began to really pick up, which brought their intimate interaction to an end. George suggested that they move out of the reservoir and into the interior section that he'd been in before.

The xeno turned him down flat, curling up on the metal sheet and refusing to move.

"You'd rather be out here in the rain?" George asked, surprised.

The alien looked at the entrance to the laboratory and shivered, a primal convulsion of fear and disgust that shot from its head to the tip of its tail.

"Oh. You probably don't like that place, do you? That's where they imprisoned and experimented on you, isn't it?"

The xeno shivered again.

"Ok. Then I have a better idea than just sitting here in the rain."

Delving into his pack again, George pulled out a folded strip of canvas; part of a kit for making a tent. Setting it down, he picked up the pail and filled it with water again. As he was doing that, it occurred to him that his companion might be thirsty. Taking the water back up to their metal sheet, he offered it to the xeno.

The alien immediately sat up and stuck his inner mouth into the water, sucking it up voraciously. It had drunk half the pail before George could even react.

Apparently sated, the xeno laid back down and purred at him affectionately.

The marine smiled, then used the rest of the water to clean the acid off of the rebar which jutted out from the wall. When he had done that, he unfolded the canvas and strung it between that piece of rebar and another a little further along the embankment, creating a makeshift roof over their slab.

The xeno observed all this with piqued interest. When the human was done, it made a cooing noise at him, obviously pleased to be protected from the weather.

"Now that that's done," The George said, looking down at his friend, "I'm going to go explore more of the interior over in there, maybe see if I can find something useful or a way out. You stay here, ok?" Not expecting an answer, he turned and started to walk away.

"Ok." Said a voice behind him.

George stopped dead. That was his voice. Was it an echo?

He looked around and listened, but didn't hear it again. Then something occurred to him. The marine slowly turned around and walked back up to the xeno.

Feeling like an idiot, but having no idea of what else to do, George kneeled down in front of the alien and said "Can you talk?"

"Yes."

This time it was a woman's voice, slow and monotone, like it was answering the most mundane question in the world. It came out of the xeno's mouth, lips moving slowly and deliberately to form the word.

George inhaled sharply. He wasn't sure how to react to this. Dumfounded, and so scatterbrained that he forgot that xenomorphs didn't have reproductive biology, he asked "Are you a girl?"

"NOOOO!!!" This time the voice was male; high and fearful, as if from a desperate man pleading for his life. George tumbled backwards in surprise, catching himself on his hands as he landed in the mud.

Despite having screamed so loudly that the entire base probably could have heard it, the xenomorph hadn't moved.

"What the fuck was that for?" George demanded, eyes wide and heart pounding.

The xeno didn't move or speak.

"Are you a boy then?" He asked, still too scatterbrained to remember.

"Yes." The same drawling women's monotone.

Something clicked in George's head. "You can copy people's voices, can't you?"

The same female monotone "Yes."

"You copied my voice." George said, mostly to himself as he began thinking about this new development, the gender questions totally forgotten, "So it seems that you have to hear a voice to mimic it. Which means... where did those other voices come from?"

The marine looked up at the xenomorph, horror draining the color from his face. "Where did the over voices come from?" He asked again, now addressing the alien.

The creature opened its mouth as if to say something, then closed it again.

"Dead." George supplied.

"Dead." The xeno confirmed, mimicking him perfectly.

"Are you going to kill me?" George asked forlornly, feeling his heart sink. "Have you done this to other people? Manipulated them into helping you and then killing them and using their voices to kill others?" He didn't bother reaching for his pistol; the will to live had left him. He felt betrayed, and that very nearly killed his soul.

The xenomorph tried to say something, choked, and then tried again.

"No." It said, in a voice that seemed wobbly and unstable. It was a man's voice, but a very young man, perhaps in his late teens or early twenties. It didn't sound like it was a mimicked voice clip, but rather like it had been tailored to answer this particular question.

Relief swamped George, and through that relief he realized that that voice wasn't mimicked. Pulling himself out of the mud, he walked back up to the xeno and kneeled in front of it again. "Was that your own voice, that you answered 'no' in?"

"Yes." Same young male voice, now a little steadier, as if the xenomorph was getting the hang of using it.

"Why did you stop copying?"

"Copying... Was... Upsetting... You..."

Full sentences were obviously a new experience.

"Where did you get this voice?"

"Made... It."

"Like, how? By listening to other people's voices, and then learning how to speak and synthesizing a voice that you like?"

"What... Synthesizing?" The xeno asked.

"It means 'making'."

"I... Make... Voice... For... I." The alien said, seeming proud of itself.

"'Myself'. 'I made a voice for myself.'" George corrected. "You need to work on your grammar."

The absurdity of having a conversation with a xenomorph about proper grammar usage was not lost on George, and he couldn't help but grin at it.

"Well," He said, standing up and wiping the mud from his hands off on his trousers, "this has been quite interesting, but I really need to go exploring. Don't worry, I'll be back."

He slogged through the mud to the ladder again, and then entered the hallway through the hatch. Searching around, he found a walk-in freezer with a sickening display of various eviscerated internal organs, both human and xenomorph. He closed the door to that room and vowed never to enter it again.

Exploring some more, he found a broom closet, which was very boring, a bathroom, which he used, and an office space, where it looked like several scientists had dedicated desks. Computers and piles of paper were scattered around the room and on the desks. A cursory search yielded nothing of interest, except for a large floppy disk, which George took, intending to wipe whatever was on it and replace it with a video game for his collection.

After ransacking the office, there were only two rooms left. He entered and found a break room, with some tables, chairs, and a refrigerator. Most of the food in it was beginning to rot or mold, but he did find a vacuum sealed package of jerky, which would make a nice supplement to his bland nutrient bar rations.

The final room really got George excited though. It was a security room, with a bank of monitors that could be hooked up to cameras all over the facility.

'Someone must really be a control freak if they're so determined to keep watching the staff all the time.' George thought. The cameras and security suite were functioning on emergency power, probably from a clunky old emergency RTG somewhere close by. He sat down at the desk and started flipping through the cameras, looking for his squad mates.

He was just about to give up when he found them. Or, at least, a few of them. Meyers, Barns, a female marine who George barely knew and whose name he had forgotten, and another man in a civilian outfit. Meyers and the civilian appeared to be deep in conversation. The female marine was sitting on a chair in the corner, fingering her pistol nervously, and Barns was messing with what looked like a radio on a table in the middle of the room..

The scene continued uninterrupted for a few seconds, before Barnes, appearing fed up with the radio, slammed his fist down on the table and swore very loudly, which was when George realized that he had an audio feed along with the video. He quickly slipped on a pair of headphones so that he could hear better.

It was also at this moment that Barnes looked up at the camera and froze.

'There must be a light on it that turns on when it's in use.' George reasoned.

Barns blinked, then turned his head and said "Hey corporal! The camera's on!"

Meyers walked over and looked into the camera. "Who's there?" He demanded gruffly, as was his usual tone with strangers.

George frantically looked around for a button or switch that would allow him to talk to the people in the feed, but couldn't find one. His headphones also didn't have a microphone, so he assumed that they didn't have that functionality. What he did find was a little joystick that he could move the camera with.

Meyers squinted at the security device, "Private Canner, is that you?"

George used the joystick to move the camera up and down, in imitation of a nod.

Barnes whooped, and the female marine in the chair smiled. Meyer broke out into a huge grin. "It's good to hear from you again my boy! Are you hurt?"

George made the camera shake "No".

"Good. Can you see where we are?"

George quickly consulted a directory of the cameras, and found that his comrades were in a room situated in a secure building at the far eastern side of the compound. He was at the far western side. He nodded the camera.

"Can you get to us?"

He shook the camera.

"Why not? Are you trapped somewhere?"

He nodded.

"Shit." Meyers scratched his chin. "Are you in any danger?"

George shook the camera "No".

"Do you think that you'll be able to rendezvous with us at the landing pad in forty hours? That's when the evac shuttle is coming. We've tried sending a radio signal to the Hermes," Meyers gestured at the radio on the table "but even after boosting its broadcasting power we can't break through the storm. For all they know the mission went perfectly, so they're sticking to the plan and waiting for the evac shuttle."

George thought for a moment. On one hand, he definitely wasn't getting out through the stairwell or elevator. On the other, he still hadn't tried ascending the steep slope that formed the side of the reservoir where the wall had collapsed inward. And with a xenomorph on his side, they might be able work together to get out.

With a hint of trepidation, he nodded "Yes".

With all of his most burning questions answered, George turned the camera towards the civilian, trying to prompt Meyers to explain his presence.

The corporal picked up on the question and said "This is Doctor Harry Calegary. He's one of the head researchers here. He got us into this building, which is a secure site for DNA and pathogen storage. The bugs can't get to us in here."

Dr. Calegary put on a smile and waved at the camera.

In response, George slammed the table with his fist and screamed "SHOOT HIM IN THE FUCKING FACE!!!" as loud as he could. He mashed the joystick, causing the camera to go all over the place, trying to express his agitation to Meyers.

"What's wrong?" Meyers asked, concern clouding his face, "Are you being attacked?"

George growled with frustration and shook the camera "No", deciding to put off trying to communicate that Calegary was the bad guy until a more appropriate time. Then he and his new xeno friend could beat the stuffing out of the doctor personally.

'Shit, what about the xenomorph?' George thought, leaning back in his chair. 'How do I tell Meyers about it? If he sees it without me being present he and the others are liable to just blow the xeno away. And they'll probably do the same even if I'm present and try to stop it. A marine trying to protect a xenomorph? I'll be put away in an insane asylum for the rest of my life. And leaving the alien here isn't an option either. We'll probably have to nuke this place from orbit when we leave to purge the infestation, and then it'll die with all the rest of them. What to do...?'

"Private!" Meyers said, bringing George out of his thoughts. "We're going to stay put here until it's time to move. I suggest you do the same. Sign off the cams and go take care of yourself until a few hours before the shuttle arrives, then book it to the landing pad. Understand?'

George nodded the camera.

"Good. Meyers signing off." The corporal saluted, then walked back over to Calegary and resumed talking with him. Barns and the female marine saluted too, and George saluted back. Then he turned off the camera, removed his headphones, and walked out of the security room.

Stepping out of the hallway onto the catwalk, George looked up at the sky, letting a few drops of rain roll down his face. Looking over at his little makeshift tent, he saw that the xenomorph had curled up and apparently gone to sleep. It actually looked kinda adorable, dome tucked between its legs, tail wrapped around itself.

Climbing down the ladder, George remembered what the corporal had said about taking care of himself. Mostly he was fine; he had food, water, shelter, and even a friend, but there was just one thing...

Looking over again to make sure the xeno was asleep, George quietly took off his backpack, hanging it on one of the rungs. Then he walked over to where the water gently flowed into a small cave in the side of the reservoir and unzipped his pants.

It was tacky, yes, but at least it was somewhat private. Over the past few days George had been much too busy to take a second and let off some steam, but now he was finally done with everything he needed to do for the moment, and he was all alone. Well, except for one person, but they were currently curled into a ball and fast asleep.

With that comforting thought in mind, he tried to summon up an image of the last guy he had slept with. His name was Konrad Wu, an excitable and free-spirited fellow of mixed Austrian-Chinese descent who ran a noodle shop on Steele. They had had a relationship, but it hadn't worked out, so they agreed to just be friends right before George had shipped out, and parted on good terms.. That didn't mean that he had agreed to stop fantasizing about Konrad though.

Konrad had a very agreeable complexion; a mix of European and Asian skin tones, with blue eyes and curly blond hair that made him look like some Greek statue come to life. His body had been wonderful too, covered in smooth skin that was a joy to run his hands over.

George had been pretty pent-up, so with these thoughts running through his head it didn't take long for him to climax. Several large white drops landed in the water, with the rest running down his shaft and over his fingers.

He quickly washed himself off and got presentable again, before zipping his pants back up and turning around to go get his pack. It was then he discovered the xenomorph was not in fact asleep, but was watching him with interest. Considerable interest too, as was evidenced by the oblong object bobbing between its legs.

George's blood simultaneously rushed to his face and to his dick, leaving his brain without enough to really function. "How much of that did you see?" he spluttered.

"All." The xeno said simply in its, no, his new voice. There was an extra tone of sultriness that hadn't been present before, showing that he had at least listened in on some dirty words during his lifetime. George couldn't help but picture him peering out of a vent at two of the former staff going at it, observing and learning.

The marine shuddered. That couldn't have ended well for the staffers.

With that train of thought having reached its conclusion, he couldn't help but let his gaze be dragged to the xenomorph's member. Curiosity overcoming his embarrassment, he stepped closer to get a better look. This was yet another feature that no other xeno he knew of had. It certainly hadn't been mentioned in the textbooks. Stepping up onto the sheet of metal that he co-inhabited with his new friend, he kneeled down and examined the impressive length.

It was long, perhaps approaching a third of a meter, and very ornately textured. The bottom side was covered in biomechanical designs reminiscent of the ones on the creature's head and body, while the top was smoother, the only texture there being raised ridges that circumnavigated the shaft, distributed every few centimeters along its length. At its base was a smooth, rounded knot which was about as thick as George's fist, and the member was crowned by a large, human-like glans.

George's arousal combined with that of the creature's caused his hormones to go wild, and he couldn't help but think how good it must feel to be bred with a tool like this. His own member was standing up like a flagpole, but he hardly noticed.

He looked up at the xeno's head, and found that despite not having face in the human sense, it was still quite capable of speaking through expressions alone. The one it was currently wearing said "Like what you see?"

"It's impressive, I'll give you that." George conceded, feeling slightly insecure. His dick was tiny and boring by comparison. "Now put it away."

"No." The creature said. It tilted its dome to point at George's hands, then at its penis, then back at his hands.

"What, you want me to... No!"

"Yes." His companion insisted.

George inhaled sharply, preparing to argue, and got a snootful of the horny xeno's pheromones for his effort.

He was perfectly aware of them as they took effect, breaking down his inhibitions and counter-arguments systematically before his very eyes. He gave the xenomorph a look of pure loathing. "That's cheating..."

The xeno smirked and spread his legs further apart, giving George better access.

'I suppose I should think of it as a science experiment.' He thought, rationalizing what he was about to do in his mind. 'A very hands-on science experiment.' Now that he thought about it, he really was curious. The alien's dome had had a fascinating texture, and now he had a chance to examine something which probably no one else had. A small part of him was even thankful for the pheromones, since now he had the perfect excuse to get up close and personal.

'I didn't have a choice.' He imagined himself explaining to someone, 'He drugged me and forced me to do it. And what was I going to go? Say no to a xenomorph? Yeah right. Let's see you go up to one of those things and try to deny it something it wants.'

The xeno's shaft pulsed slightly in the cool, moist air, precum leaking for its tip like a faucet. It was covered in a thin layer of clear slime, which George reasoned to be natural lubricant. Gingerly, he reached out a hand and closed his fist around the alien member.

The xenomorph let a long, drawn out hiss of pleasure slip through its teeth. He began to gently thrust into George's fist, sliding his member across the man's fingers.

George closed his eyes, feeling the cock's exquisite texture as it was forced through his hand. It was warm, like a human's, and the slime layer really was an excellent lubricant. He began to move his fist in conjunction with the member, trying to help the xeno.

The alien quickly reached out and grabbed his wrist, preventing him from moving. The message was very clear: "I'm in control here, not you."

"Oh, so you're that kind of lover, are you?" George said judgmentally, more of a statement than a question.

The xeno made a chuffing noise that could have been interpreted as a laugh.

It didn't take long for the xenomorph to climax, spraying white all over the metal sheet and even onto the mud beyond. George quietly marveled at how much of it there was; probably more than he had pumped out in the entire past month at least. It smelled quite strongly too, virile and masculine, but also subtly sweet.

Trying to ignore the intoxicating scent, George said "That's quite impressive, especially considering you don't even have any balls so far as I can see." He stood up, letting go of the xeno's member, although his hands were still smeared with its juices. "We're done now." He said firmly.

The xeno seemed disappointed, but complied, retracting his cock up into the slit between his legs.

Sighing heavily, George stood up and walked down to the water to scrub his hands off. Then he retrieved the pail and filled it full of water, pouring it on the steel sheet to clean away the sticky semen. Then he filled it up again and dumped it all over the xenomorph, washing him off and sending a very clear message that he was not pleased with him.

The xeno shrieked and thrashed around, obviously not happy about suddenly being doused.

Taking a cautious sniff, George was pleased to find that all of the pheromones had been cleared out, and the air was clean again.

"Don't ever do that to me again." He said crossly, sitting down next to his companion and staring at the roof of their tent.

The xenomorph didn't have the excuse of not being able to understand him, since it had understood words and hand gestures perfectly before, so it made George all the madder when he felt one of the xeno's hands gently pawing at his crotch.

"I said enough!" He yelled, slapping the appendage away.

The xeno made a small whimper and looked down, ashamed.

"Oh for the love of..." George muttered, a small knot of pity tying itself in his heart. He sighed and looked at the xenomorph, which was still staring at his feet.

"You showed me, I guess, so now I show you. But be careful, and no claws."

The xenomorph looked up excitedly, his talons long since retracted into its fingers.

Rolling his eyes, George unzipped his pants and pulled his penis out to show the curious creature.

The alien immediately reached up and started touching it gently, fascinated by this new appendage. He looked down between his legs, then back up at George. He smirked.

"Yeah, I know yours is bigger and cooler than mine. Don't rub it in." The marine huffed, feeling slightly insecure that a bug was better equipped than him.

The xeno made another amused chuff. Continuing to gently fondle the human's genitals, he seemed to focus on in the foreskin, a feature which he did not have. He rolled the flap of skin back, curious, and sniffed at the moist red head that was revealed.

His curiosity there apparently sated, he moved on to the balls, rolling them around between his fingers.

George couldn't help but become erect when subjected to this treatment, which interested the xeno even more. Apparently taking that as a sign that the human was ready to play again, the alien opened his mouth and slid out the inner jaw, retracting its teeth. Offering it to the human, the xeno looked up at George expectantly.

"Nope. Not doing that." The marine said flatly, putting his dick away and zipping up his pants again.

The xenomorph whined, but George refused to budge, so he tried to break out his secret weapon.

Cautiously sniffing at the air, George found that it was once again filled with pheromones. "Oi! You aren't pulling that one on me again you horny little monster!" He grabbed the pail and proceeded to douse the creature's head and groin with more water, temporarily removing his ability to deploy the airborne weapon.

The xeno growled, but accepted the answer. Rejection was obviously a new experience, but at least he appeared to understand and respect consent.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the patter of rain against the tent.

Finally, the human sighed and said "I'm sorry for yelling at you. You were just curious, and that's a good quality to have. It's just that humans have certain boundaries and expectations when it comes to sex, and going at it with a xenomorph is a very new and frightening thing that doesn't really fit within those boundaries and expectations. I appreciate your interest and willingness, it's flattering."

The xeno looked up at him hopefully.

"I'm still not going to screw your mouth though." George concluded firmly.

The xeno made a shrugging motion, apparently coming down from his sex-high. "Not mates. Just friends?" He asked, his voice getting faster and steadier as he used it more.

The marine smiled down at him. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

The xenomorph looked out at the pool of water. "Sorry for..." He appeared to be at a loss for words, so he made a fist with one hand and thrust his hips a little.

"Making me jack you off?" George supplied.

"If that what named; yes." The alien stuttered, still learning how to make complex sentences.

"It is also called masturbation, but jacking-off is a commonly used term."

"Sorry about it." The xeno said again.

"That's okay." George said, resting his palm on the creature's dome. "Everyone needs an intimate touch sometimes; humans and xenos." Feeling curious, he asked "Do you mate with other males often?"

"Yes. And females. Very often. Makes bonds and trust in hive. Also feels good."

"That it does."

They sat in silence some more, before George stood up and retrieved his backpack. Reaching into it, he pulled out the jerky he had found earlier. Tearing the package open, he took a few slabs and offered them to his friend. "Want some food?"

The xeno snatched the meat from his hands and devoured it voraciously. Licking his fingers clean, he asked "More?"

The marine scooped out half the package and fed it to the hungry alien, before eating the rest himself.

Licking his chops, the xeno looked at George expectantly. "More?"

"Good lord, is sleeping, eating, and fucking all you do?"

"And getting attacked by marines." The creature snarked.

'Oh good, he's developing a sense of humor.' George thought sarcastically. He reached into his pack again and pulled out a nutrient bar. Unwrapping it revealed an off-white rectangle about as thick as his thumb.

Offering it to the xenomorph he said "Here. They're all I have, but they don't taste good."

The alien took an experimental bite, then screwed up his face in an expression of profound distaste.

"Told you so."

The xenomorph continued chewing and eventually swallowed, then ate the rest of the bar, apparently hungry enough to brave its horrifically bland flavor. When he was done, he curled up into a ball and prepared to go to sleep.

"I have something for that too." George said, delving into his pack once again and pulling out a large space blanket, which he unfolded and proceeded to spread over himself and the xeno.

The alien, for his part, was now looking at the backpack as if it was some well of infinite wonders.

"Tired?" George asked.

"Yes."

"Me too. Let's hit the sack." He shucked off his jacket and folded it up into a makeshift pillow, laying his head on it and closing his eyes. He felt a puff of warm, jerky-smelling air hit him the face, ruffling his dark brown hair. Opening his eyes, George asked "What is it?"

The xenomorph was lying down on the metal facing him, getting himself comfortable under the blanket. He gently moved his dome forward and pressed it against George's forehead, carefully wrapping his tail and limbs around the man's midsection protectively, as if to say "I won't let anything happen to you."

George smiled and began to hum a simple tune, an ancient lullaby from the twentieth century.

The xeno listened for a moment, then joined in.

They sang softly together as the rain pattered against the roof, drifting off to sleep in each other's arms.