One of Our Submarines
One of Our Submarines
Captain Bryce was awakened in the middle of the night by his hand-held radio.
"Cap'n!" called the high-pitched, but friendly voice of Dunn.
But he didn't actually answer it until Jade, laying by his side, also awoke and handed it to him.
"Report," he yawned.
"We've got a ship, cap'n! Small, probably two or three, four at the most!"
"Fine," grumbled the panther, "get an inventory ready, and wake up K.G., make him program the torpedoes."
"But Cap'n, you haven't --"
"I said program them, Dunn, not load them," he growled drowsily.
"Right."
He wrapped his arm back around Jade, and shifted his body closer to him in the warm bed.
"Want help waking up?" saucily asked Jade, his green eyes reflecting back the dim safety lights of their quarters.
"Not that way," sighed Bryce, "I've got too much to do. The list, the tape, the torpedo timing -- I don't know if I can trust K.G. when he's half asleep."
The hyena just petted the panther's furry, black chest, but said nothing. At this invitation, he kept talking, wishing he could just lay in bed, and that he didn't have all these responsibilities.
"Tell me why we're out here, doing this," he asked rhetorically.
"You'd rather be sitting in prison, would you?"
Bryce was disappointed with that answer. "If that's the only reason, why am I dragging you all with me?"
"If you will recall, we all volunteered."
"So I'm abusing your loyalty," he argued.
Jade smiled mischeviously. "If you think this is mere loyalty," he whispered, nuzzling up to the black ear beside him, "then I should kill you in your sleep one of these days, to become --" He had to stop and allow a brief period of laughter. "To become," he chuckled, undoing his mock gravity, "captain of a Sub-marine. And the only pirate ship never to be caught."
That was the answer Bryce was looking for. So, with a smile, a kiss, and a cuddle, he finally got up, to make sure the torpedo calculations were correct, and make a list of needed supplies. They were going to take another hostage.
***
Hans gazed out over the sunrise with the lioness he loved most, Leona.
"This," he explained with a wide gesture, "is why I took you out here. Nothing but the waves in every direction. No cities, no trees, nothing. Just us."
He couldn't help but let out a giddy laugh; the orange sky reflected off the ocean, to form a sea of liquid light, bobbing, churching, and dancing all the way to the horizon.
"It's beautiful," she concurred reverently; though here eyes focused mostly on him, as if he had created it. It wasn't long before he noticed this, and they kissed.
But alas, their kiss was dramatically interrupted. A faint bang was their only warning, before their rented houseboat was rocked by a tremendous wave, emminating from directly beneath them. Though the boat barely failed to capsize, both of them were thrown a good foot off its deck, straight into the freezing cold water.
"Get lifejackets!" shouted Hans in terror, not knowing how well Leona could swim. She could only tread water, leaving it to him.
He got onto the boat, and threw her a life preserver, but was immediately knocked off it by a second wave. This one, the boat rocking more precariously from its own bouyancy, managed to flip it completely over.
Leona waited for a terrifying minute, waiting for Hans to emerge from the upside-down hull, but he did -- with a much larger inflatable raft.
"I knew we should have rented a boat with one of these," he said with a smile. Her love only mangnified her relief into affection, as she climbed awkwardly onto it, freezing in the air that seemed to suddenly take on the temperature of the water.
As the boat sank, and the two of them shivered, having nothing but each other, a third, much smaller wave began to rise from behind them. Hans spotted it first: a large object, rising to the surface, much larger than he could see. A small mast gave way to a large catwalk, and to their astonishment, another small wave came as a multi-dozen-foot black trapezoid rose just above the waves, and seemed to hover at the surface.
Massive grumbling engines soon began kicking up smoke from atop it, and a black cat emerged from a hatch, with a megaphone. "You are now hostages of Captain Bryce," he thundered, walking over to a large turret at the front of the craft, "the last believer in free-enterprise! Get over here, or be blown into a million pieces!"
It was quite surreal to Hans. Aside from the tattered GDF uniform the panther wore, nothing made any sense. The contraption he was riding was certainly larger than what little he had stuided of Human History, and he saw himself as being in no position to negotiate, unsure of what it could do.
He began paddling the raft toward the black terror, despite his emotions telling him to do the opposite. He would have jumped into the ocean and drowned himself if it meant saving Leona, but he would get his chance for heroics soon enough.
"Now," growled the cat, the railing over which he spoke just above sea level, "climb up here."
He didn't carry his weapon, thought Hans; perhaps there was some way to force him to back down. He reached over the raft, grabbed hold of the railing, and climbed on. Leona followed suit.
"You've got a choice, boy," he demanded to the fox 20 years his junior. "I can't afford room for two. Pick."
For Hans, it was simple, both from his affection, and his prediction of what would happen to Leona on a ship full of pirates. "Take me," he stoically commanded.
"Hans, no!" she protested.
But the cat merely smiled. "You seem like a strong young lad," he noted, admiring the general shape of his arms and chest, "this thing has four decks, and all of them could use a good scrubbing."
"Don't let him --"
"If you let her go," he continued over Leona's protests. "I'll do whatever you say."
A bigger smile from the Captain.
"Leona, please," he sighed, "I'll be okay. I promise."
"Certainly," growled the cat, "in a week or two, he will be returned if the GDF gives me what I want. In fact, you will be the one to tell them."
He handed her an audio tape, upon which he had recorded his very modest demands for supplies. She nodded solemnly, accepting that this duty would, hypothetically, ensure that she could see Hans again.
"So, off with you. I believe dry land is that way," he pointed off into the empty ocean.
"Use the sun," added Hans solemnly, "to keep your direction straight."
She nodded again, her eyes tearing up.
"So get going," urged the cat, pushing her toward the railing, and making her jump back into the raft.
"I'll come back!" Hans shouted as she grabbed a built-in ore and began fighting the small echoes of the vessel's ascent, "I promise!"
***
After being escorted quite forcefully down the hatch, which was then sealed, he began to feel a sinking feeling, literally. He guessed their vessel was diving. He nervously walked, at the cat's silent urging, down the tight corridors. He had to duck several times, the narrow corridors running the length of the ship being six feet high, but being suddenly reduced by ductwork or wiring bundles to a sudden five foot six.
"I'm sure you will be familiar with it by the end of the day," announced the voice behind him, "you've almost covered a quarter of my ship."
"Your ship?" repeated Hans.
"Yes," growled the cat, "Captain Bryce is my name, but you'll refer to me by title only."
Hans didn't refer to him at all, but just tried to keep his body in order, feeling quite disorented by the confined space, and annoyed by the continued descent, whose distance he could no longer keep track of.
"How deep are we going?" he asked nervously, trying to obtain this information.
"Deep enough spotter planes won't notice us," Bryce replied with a sinister grin. "The military is quite unhappy with me for 'borrowing' this vehicle of theirs."
Hans, after climbing two decks down a long ladder, finally saw another soul. This was where control of the vessel was maintained, and the under-staffed vessel seemed very busy. He was pushed out of the way quite forcefully by a husky moving quickly past, though he waited for the Captain to step aside for him.
"Our new hostage," called Byrce to the fast-moving dog.
"Wonderful," he called back darkly, without stopping.
"Who was that?" asked the fox.
"K.G., my engineer. Probably the one who'll kill me in my sleep one of these days." He said it with a straight face, but only after Hans gave him a look of mild astonishment did he smile.
"He's probably the only friend you'll get down here," he added, "unless, of course, you can impress me."
As Hans imagined the tremendous amount of water above them all, he felt very trapped indeed. "I'll try," Hans replied.
The next doorway Hans walked past, Bryce stopped at.
"Report," he said to a hyena at a large computer terminal.
"Down to 175 meters," he replied without taking his eyes off the screen, "course set for the nothern tip of the continent."
"Do you think we can make it without fuel?"
"K.G. says we can."
"I asked," growled the Captian with a strange warmth, "whether you think we can."
The hyena flashed his sharp green eyes briefly at Hans, before answering. "I don't know. We needed that fifteen hundred liters a week ago. I'm worried you're going to have to try the reactor."
Bryce gritted his teeth. "I've never had to yet, and I'm going to make sure we don't now. And this," he introduced, as if he had forgotten the fox was standing there, "is Hans, our new captive."
Hans nodded briefly in greeting, not sure what else to do. But the hyena didn't even acknowledge him.
"Does he have quarters?" he asked Bryce sharply.
"Not yet," he answered.
"So where will he sleep?"
"I can find him some quarters, if you will pull a double shift tonight."
This changed the hyena from irritated to furious. "So half the second deck wouldn't cut it!?"
"Since it hasn't been maintained in ten years," replied Bryce calmly, "none of it would, no. Just one night, Jade. Please don't do this to me."
The hyena signed with discontent, but with his eyes staring past the screen in front of him, seemed to be burying his feelings.
"One night. But then, he'd better have quarters."
"He'll have his choice of anyone's quarters," Bryce replied with a smirk.
Jade smiled, but only briefy, before returning to his trace of navigation.
Hans had no idea what to think of it. He would have thought it love, did he know such things were rare. He also suspected there was more to he pather's statement of quarters than first apperent, but wasn't sure what it was. All he knew was that he expected not to like it.
"The rest of the introductions can wait," Bryce commanded, turning suddenly into another doorway, "you're going straight to work."
After going into a tiny nearby closet for a mop and bucket, and filling the latter with water from a shower in the head across the deck, he handed them both to Hans. "Report to my quarters when you're done," he instructed.
Hans wanted to ask when that was, but didn't have the willpower to do so before the Captain walked quickly by three more doorways, and entered a fourth.
For the full minute Hans stood there, he didn't come out. Deciding that this is what work meant, he started mopping. He didn't make excellent progress, the heavy cloth mop requiring more strength than it first appeared to. The side-to-side swiveling pattern also was not expiditions for covering distance in a long, narrow hall such as the one he found himself in.
As a result, it took nearly an hour to get all the way back to the room where Jade was still watching the helm. He glared momentarily at Hans, but didn't say anything.
This hostility he didn't understand finally made the fox stand up for himself. "What is it?" he asked sharply.
"You," snapped Jade.
"And just what did I do?" replied Hans, continuing to mop.
But when he dipped the mop in the bucket one more time, Jade suddenly lept toward him, and kicked the bucket over.
"You miserable slut!" Hans dodged a kick to his shin, but not a punch to his gut immediately after. With the wind knocked out of him, Jade met no resistance when he shoved the fox into the steel wall, smashing his entire body into it, and knocking him to his knees after he bounced.
"What are you talking about!" whined Hans.
"You stole his heart. I'm supposed to own that," growled the hyena, looming over him.
"What!? I hate him!"
"That makes no difference," sternly snarled Jade, "he's attached to you now. He's going to mate with you every chance he gets."
"I don't want him! Leona is the only one I love! Males are disgusting!" Hans repeated weakly staggering to his feet.
"But he wants you!" Jade snarled, flexing his hands in preparation for another blow.
But before more damage could be done, Hans' beating was interrupted by a tall hare.
"Hey, hey, hey!" he shouted angrily, his voice sharp and shrill, despite his tall, lanky frame. He pushed the hyena back into the console, and this time, it was Jade who very slowly got up.
"I can deal with the cap'n," he snapped, "back off!"
Jade returned to the helm, giving the computer a few more orders.
"You'd better, Dunn," he growled.
"It'll be expensive, though," he added, turning his gaze to Hans.
"What can be harder than cleaning all four decks?" he asked, more to himself than the hare.
With his buck-toothed smile, Dunn replied, "guess."
Hans, however, was too sore and tired for games. "Tell me," he answered, recovering his assertiveness.
"Follow me," he directed.
"No cleaning?" asked Hans.
"No cleaning," answered Dunn, "at least not of decks."
Once again, Hans knew he wasn't going to like it, but at least he wouldn't have to clean the ship with several brusies forming.
He followed Dunn down the hall, down one more deck to the very bottom. Even as he descended the five feet, he began to hear a hum. When he jumped awkwardly down into the floorboards, he felt it in his feet.
Based on the way Dunn walked effortlessly around, dodging barrels, wires hanging down, and several free-standing consoles, this was clearly his domain. All the supplies they had, it seemed, were kept in this room whose length looked to be that of the whole ship. And as he walked further back, the few dim bulbs hanging from thickly-rubberized wires gave less and less light.
"Almost there," added Dunn, Hans beginning to feel he had made a bad trade.
It was only when he banged his knee on a large drum of fuel, starting to yell, but hushing it up, that the hare stopped. "Alright, easy, just have a seat." Assuming he meant on the drum, Hans sat. To his great dismay, he immediately felt the hare sit next to him.
"Easy," he advised, wrapped his arm around the fox, more of an entrapment than a comfort, "just take it easy," he whispered, his voice no less sharp without its high pitch.
But Hans was growing more and more uncomfortable, certain that what was about to happen to him would be no different from the Captain's plans.
"It's alright," continued to reassure Dunn, "I'm not going to hurt you. Do you like fish?"
"I won't be baited," growled the fox.
"I'm asking for a different reason. Do you like fish? Particularly raw fish?"
"Somtimes," he replied, not wanting to admit that certain kinds of trout were high on the list of his favorite foods.
"Then you will probably like this. Now, just kneel down."
It tastes like raw fish, he concluded, as he knelt and knew what he was about to be forced to do. For Leona, he might have done this, but certainly not for anyone else, and most certainly not for a male.
He winced as he arranged himself on the cold, hard, steel floor. But he just sat, looking up in the dim light at the outline of a rabbit fiddling with his uniform, obviously preapring for Hans' imminient humiliation.
But when he was done, and pushed the fox's head toward him, Hans just sat back up when he was released. "I'm sorry," he answered, "I can't do it."
"Sure you can," encouraged Dunn saucily, "there's nothing to it at all."
"I'd rather clean all the decks," admitted Hans, waiting to be compelled as his stomach knotted.
"Silly boy, why would you do that? You would rather wear yourself out than do nothing more than suffer the taste of raw fish for a few minutes?"
When described like that, it would be appealing; but Hans couldn't think of it like that.
In fact, there were no words for the primal revulsion that had grabbed hold of him. Some tiny part of him liked the idea, but only the part that would like it done to him. Being on the receiving end was an entirely different matter. But before long, he was pulled forward again, this time bumping into the head of the rabbit cock before him; obviously it had swollen quite incredibly. It bounced twice off his nose, before the rabbit gingerly pried open his willing muzzle, and slid it in.
Hans wanted to bite, but knew that would surely be the end of him. Instead, he just sat there, while the meat inside his mouth -- which, he had to admit, did taste vaguely like fish -- went in and out, seeming to get a little bigger and a little firmer each time. He decided after a few minutes that the taste was one wich he could imagine was fish, so decided to start licking when it was inside him.
Immediately, with a grunt, the pattern changed. He was thrusting faster and faster, and started leaking a much more bitter liquid into Hans' muzzle.
The fox did his best to put up with it, but it soon turned into what Dunn had been waiting for. It seemed as if he could feel the very stroke that caused it; after that, the thrusts became shallow and irradic, accompanying a groan from the hare, and then, the mouth of Hons quickly filled with fish paste.
He was utterly revolted, and almost choked, but his breathing decided for him that there was only one direction for it to go, and that was down. He swallowed before his brain could process what he was doing, and only after the meat was spit from his muzzle did his brain make him feel sick.
"That was practice," advised Dunn, "to avoid the Cap'n doing something far worse to you. If you're smart, you'll volunteer."
The only thing worse was the decision to use his rear instead of his mouth, and so with a shiver and silent tears, told himself he would have to volunteer.
***
However, the first thing he volunteered to do was clean the ship. Dunn did help with half a deck, but still lefn too much to him. He was no more efficient than before, but it was work really to keep his mind off of what he had just done.
It took him hours to clean the second deck, all the bedrooms, all the consoles, and all while very narrowly avoiding the jealous Jade. He ached, knowing that this was the life of a slave. He should expect nothing, except to be kept alive. His shoulders hurt, his back was in excruciating pain, and his banged-up knees had to bend again and again to put the mop head back into the bucket one more time.
As soon as Hans reached the second-to-last room, the Captain's Quarters, he decided he'd had enough, and put the mop down. The panther was sitting at a desk, writing in a very large, hand-bound volume, Hans guessed a log or journal.
He was at a large desk, across from a tightly-packed bookshelf, table and chair, all the ordinary things in the room. But then, but quite incredibly, there were two lamps and a bed bolted to the ceiling. The bed appeared so tightly made, that the sheets only sagged under the weight of gravity.
"This is your office, Captain?" asked Hans nervously.
Bryce's eyes raised from the page as he finished making the last few marks upon it with an ink pen. "Not quite," he replied, "it's both an office and quarters." He took a handheld radio off the desk, and ordered it, "helm, roll 180 degrees."
He waited, expecting an answer, but only silence came. "Helm!" Still no answer. "Jade, don't do this to me. We had a deal."
"Deal's off, Captain," replied the voice of Dunn, "I took over Jade's shift. When he arrives, I will obey the order."
Right on cue, Jade appeared, giving Hans a dirty look before ignoring him. Captain Bryce was quite surprised.
"You're supposed to be at the helm," he growled, seeming too tired to be angry.
"Dunn volunteered to take my shift. Besides, I thought you might want help."
"Help?"
"Help in teaching this young fox of yours how to appreciate males," he replied with a smile.
Captain Bryce pondered the notio for a moment, before telling the radio, "alright, he's here. Roll 180 degrees."
Immediately, everything began to tilt. Bryce and Jade walked over to a railing, which seemed insignificnat before, and stood on it, holding a higher pipe running along the wall.
"I'd suggest you do this before you fall," he advised Hans, as the angle of the floor approached 30 degrees.
Hans did, but with the understanding the large bed was his final destination, he began to be gripped by a different fear entirely.
"This won't be too bad," advised Bryce, reacting to his expression, "just climb it like I do."
The fox did his best, trying to ignore the occasional bang or scrambling sound in the hallways.
"It saves quite a bit of space," Jade remarked, apparently referring to the bed, as they climbed the last two steps, and gravity passed 135 degrees from its original position. "I can't believe the humans never thought of this."
In a minute or two more, all 180 degrees were completed, and the fox struggled to mentally righted himself to a room which had been so different only a minute or two before. Most of all, he would have climb at least four feet to get to the doorway and escape the fate he could see coming; and even then, there was nowhere to go.
"Captain," he asked nervously, "is this really necessary?"
"Remember what I said about impressing me?" he purred. "It's either this, or you work an extra shift, starting right now. 8 hours of hard labor, or 15 minutes of discomfort. Which would you choose?"
Hans decided to risk angering the captain, in the hopes he would be let go. "Your helmsman seemed to have an opinion," he pointed out.
"But I changed it," Jade answered calmly, "don't keep the Captain waiting."
That was what Hans was hoping to do, but based upon the building anst in their faces, his decision was clear.
"Alright, then," demanded Jade, "take off your shirt."
Feeling suddenly very self-conscious, Hans slowly took off his shirt, enduring the pain of his shoulders. Several bruises were revealed, which shocked the Captain.
"Did he do this to you?" he sharply asked the fox.
Hans couldn't answer, only looking from the Captain's concerned gaze to Jade's stoic countenence. He didn't know whom he feared more, but took a guess at who could most make his life miserable. Still unable to speak, he just glowered at the hyena, and nodded.
"Double shift tomorrow," he told Jade coldly, "no deals this time. But for now, I'm not in the mood for pain. Hold him down."
The fox backed away without thinking, not wanting to be touched by those rough hands again. The hyena advanced, a look describable only as sadism on his face. Hans started walking toward the wall below the doorframe, but turned left at the corner. Jade easily cut him off, and grapped his wrists.
"No!" Hans yelled, like a child, "let me go! Let go!"
He tried to kick the hyena, but this resulted only in his fingers being squeezed in his palms. In the pain, he cried out, tears springing to his eyes, and knelt.
"Please don't," he cried, as he was dragged limply over to the bed, and then held against it face down. "I'll do anything but this, anything!" he begged, "I'll -- I'll --"
Hans could feel the eyes of the Captain focused on him intently. "I'll even -- lick you," he whimpered.
This had the effect Dunn predicted. The cat suddenly eased his grip, and changed his voice.
"Well," purred the Captain, "that's quite different. How nice to catch a willing one."
"Perhaps you'd be willing to share?" asked Jade, tongue hanging out.
"You can make sure he won't bite," wryly noted the captain, as he pulled the fox back to his feet, and threw his body at the hyena.
Hans couldn't hide his distaste, but Jade seemed to ignore it. Gently pushing the fox to his knees, he held out his pink flesh expectantly, pulling back his sheath a little. Hans tried to think of the fishiness of the smell, managing to put it slowly into his mouth.
He licked it, just as he had Dunn, and while less subdued, the hyena's reaction was certainly positive. Panting, grunting, and throbbing with energy Hans could feel, the fox compelled hismelf to lick the cock very similar to the one of Dunn, perhaps a bit wider.
What he didn't expect, however, was that it grew more. The piece of meat grew far more than that of the hare, and Jade made him take the entire thing into his muzzle. He almost felt the risk of choking, trying to breathe through his nose as his cheeks began to do most of the work. But Jade seemed only to enjoy it more, and Hans could even faintly hear Captain Bryce purring in vicarious pleasure. Seeming to react just as much to Bryce as Hans, Jade started dribbling precum before long, the thinner and saltier of the two fish juices.
The cock in his mouth seemed to stand as tall as it would, but now Jade began more heavily manipulating Hans' head, seeming to want still more pleasure than he was currently getting. The fox went along with whatever his head made him do, even voluntarily reaching up with his tongue when the foreskin moved from the bottom to the roof of his mouth. This tiny gesture seemed to be just enough; when Hans' sikly tongue stroked Jade's flesh one time too many, he panted and groaned woudly. Thrusting forward, and pushing Hans' head back against the bed, he moaned and spewed out his fish juice.
It was only by thinking of the white goo as such that Hans managed to swallow, waiting for the pumping to stop, and at last, for the hyena to withdraw. His eyes gazed off into the distance as he announced his verdict. "He's wonderful," he sighed wistfully.
But Bryce, quite suddenly, grabbed not Hans, but Jade. Driven by the angry cock hanging out of his fallen uniform, Jade seemed to know exactly what to do. Ignoring his drooling cock, he bent straight over the bed, and spread his legs, tail starting to move wildly.
As Hans looked on, compelled to watch this visceral train wreck, Bryce did the very thing that he himself had so dreaded. With the hyena in a state of bizzare arousal -- far too distant to be called excitement -- Bryce penetrated the only orafice Jade had below his waist.
Jade emitted a loud, staggered groan, his hips taking the weight of the cat's chest, and legs supporting the powerful forced entry into his bowels. Hans shiverred, clenching his own anus reflexively; his fear was now competing with a strange sense of wonder. To watch the hyena react, it was impossible to guess the thoughts going through his mind at the moment.
As the performance continued, Bryce deriving clear, controlled gratification, and Jade deriving a set of feelings no words Hans knew could encompass, the fox found himself inexplicably aroused by the entire thing. Like a horror movie, the terror inspiring his adrenaline made him anxious, and desire to burn off the feelings of energy that his nervous system was giving him in sympathy.
The more he thought about it, the more he thought not of Jade's sensations, but of Bryce's. And as his cock got harder, it was those nerves not being satisifed that he continued to focus on.
Soon enough, the panther groaned, and with a few more ragged thrusts, exploded. He could see the progress the sticky goo made into Jade's body written on the hyena's face, every pump or squirt appearing in a twitch, wiggle, flinch, or batt of his eye. The tension soon faded, just as Bryce's did, and he rolled off to grab a bucket, and expel the contents into it.
Hans waited for the disgusting sight to be over, and then watched Jade climb slowly into the bed. "Come in, Hans," purred Bryce once they were mostly settled, "I won't bite."
The fox, however, was more skeptical. He walked slowly toward the bed, feeling almost slimy as he drew close to them. It was suddenly Jade who seemed more appealing, if forced to choose, and so he picked the left side of the bed. The hyena's teeth glinted at him, as Hans tried not to think of the mess that surely the sheets must be.
But he was suddenly advised to take leave of his worries, by a paw, which slid under the covers and took a gentle hold of his slightly erect cock.
"He seems quite uncomfortable," teased Jade to the Captain, "can't I give him something?"
"Just don't make any noise," grumbled Bryce, "I need to get some sleep."
Hans didn't resist, as the hyena folded himself under the covers, and took the tender flesh gently into his muzzle. He groaned at first, but managed to stifle it, remembering the Captain's request. He'd had enough practice himself that he knew how to enjoy sexual pleasure quietly, though this was much stronger than that granted by his own hand.
The way the inside of his cheeks teased the skin, and the velvety tongue stroked it, made him start dribbling precum in no time. All thoughts of anything else were banished from his mind; only the sensations he was feeling were mattered, not even where they were coming from. They were so exquisite, that before long they overpowered him, and he came.
As he felt his cum rising up, the tongue and mouth dutifully sucked it all away. The pumping muscles eventually slowed, as the afterglow washed slowly over Hans. He was too happy for any of this to seem wrong. It didn't matter that it was a male who had done this to him, and the taste in his mouth was merely fish.
Under such influences, sleep came quickly, and he succeeded easily in putting out of his mind the idea that there were two strange, dangerous males beside him.
***
It took several weeks before the Captain arrived at his destination. Each time they came up to run the engines and recharge the electric batteries, Hans silently wished the military would spot them, even if it meant dropping a torpedo and destroying them. But every time, Jade's sensors were correct: no one was in sight, in the sea, or above the waves.
The result was a daily dilemma: help the crew with hard labor during the day, or help the Captain and Jade in the bedroom late at night. More and more adjusting to the taste of fish, he chose the latter, and became more and more lazy.
Finally, the day Hans had been waiting for came after six weeks. As he heard the engines start, drawing in the air they could now get at the surface to run, he was pushed up the hatch, and out into the dim morning haze of the bay.
He swam the 25 feet to the pier, getting soaked and his clothes quite ruined in the process. THere was very little outside; a few rusty anchors, some gasoline, and a few sheds. Nothing seemed capable of containing the supplies the Captain had demanded.
Only one of the several rotting sheds was of any size, so Hans quietly entered it. Sure enough, there were massive drums of fuel, hull struts, half a dozen torpoedoes nearly his height, and several large iron rods, which the Captain said the reactor required.
But his plans to simply return these things to his Captain and be free was interrupted by those with other plans. "Psst!" whispered a voice from behind a reserve of fuel drums, "are you Hans?" "Yes," he answered, not whispering. Another cat, this one an orange tabby, came out from behind it in full military uniform, sidearm included.
"Lt. Robinson," he introduced, "I've been sent to capture Captain Bryce," he stated matter-of-factly. "Will you help me, or get in my way?"
"I'd love to help," answered Hans, "but Bryce says he'll blow this place up if I don't start appearing outside with supplies right away."
"Don't worry, I've got a plan. Just start bringing whatever it is out like you're supposed to." That Hans was certainly willing to do.
Grabbing a hand truck from the corner, he started with the large drums of fuel. Every time he wheeled one out onto the rickety dock, he searched for the submarine's shadow beneath the waves. Even though he was certain it was there, he still couldn't see it from all the reflections. This only made him more nervous, and speedy in doing what he had been told.
Four barrels were out in no time, and he was just starting on the large rods when he heard a shout he had only dreamed of: "Hans!" He turned to see Leona hiding behind the corner of a smaller shed.
Forgetting everything, he immediately ran to embrace her. And as he did, he heard heavy footsteps of Lt. Robinson and several others running past them. Hans embraced his mate, and she seemed almost as glad to see him -- he was certain he was more glad, after what he'd been through.
"Oh your clothes!" she suddenly exclaimed, breaking out of her hug, "what happened!?"
"You don't want to know," he answered truthfully, as he saw two helecopters approach from far inland and fly over where Bryce should have been.
Seeming to have become invisible, Hans and Leona ran inland, not even wishing to see the gunfire and explosions which followed. He didn't know whether Bryce would survive, but he didn't really care either.
***
Hans thought that was the end of the story. Aside from an occasional nightmare about a hyena he felt unable to tell his mate about, he would occasionally get strange cravings for the taste he had learned so well. "Let's have fish for dinner," he would immediately say to satiate them. Leona humored him, but he could tell she knew there was more going on than he admitted.
But merely a month after returning to his normal life, and job in the library to which he had once again become accustomed, it seemed that fish was more and more on his mind. When he was about to ask for it the third day in a row, the most frequent yet, he decided he had to tell her about this. Perhaps, he thought, it would make the feelings go away.
That was the very day, on his way back home, he walked a different route, and stumbled into some new construction. It seemed that an old tavern, closed down due to its content, had been re-opened with a much thicker atmosphere. It was called the U-boat, and populated mostly by military types; Hans could tell their temperment, their eyes, and their builds, even without a GDF uniform.
He was so transfixed by his prior experiences, in addition to the fact that not two females walked in, that he had to see what was behind those dimly tinted windows.
The lights were dim, and the music was loud. It seemed to be quite a throwback to the way humans of this sort were compelled to socialize: quietly in a loud enviornment, with fear of being overheard. But what surprised him was the bar tender: a slightly greyer black panther, with a familiar eye, and new scar on his cheek.
There was not a single doubt in his mind, as he stared nervously from the doorway, that it was none other than Captain Bryce.
The cat was too busy occasionally yelling to a kitchen, talking to a hare at the bar -- who was also familiar -- or managing a set of bottles and liquids behind it to notice him. His ability to split attention made him seem quite different than the captor who had only eyes for the fox the last time they met. His smile also seemed indescribably different; the way he flashed his teeth seemed not menacing, but wry, as if his days of taking captives and cargo were over.
Hans had no idea what he had been through since being captured, but knew the law would have dealt with him heavily. Then again, it did also heavily reward good behavior.
Perhaps it was becaue of Bryce's fatherly aura, or perhaps the taste which now rose to his tongue once again; but either way, he stepped in, and nervously sat down on the far end of the bar. The brand new stool's swish of air, as the foam adjusted to his weight, brought the cat walking toward him, even without looking.
When his eyes did finally turn to meet those of Hans, they glimmered. Despite the flash of recognition he was certain he saw, his voice showed none. "Hello there," he asked kindly, "what can I get you?"
It took Hans a moment realize he had been asked a question, his eyes still obsessively reading Bryce's face. "I'm not sure," he answered truthfully, adding a note of irritation he couldn't control, "what have you got?"
"That depends on what you're looking for," he answered, leaning over more and swishing his tail lazily. "Most who walk through those doors want to carouse, but I don't think you're the carousing type."
Hans knew there was a double meaning in his words, but didn't know what it was. He decided that exploring that was the best way to learn about this new Bryce.
"You know me well," he replied, adding his own double meaning, memories flooding back as he kept looking at that all-too-familiar face, "what do you think I am here for?"
He stood back up, and started to shuffle things behind the bar.
"I'm not sure," he replied, beginning to concentrate on writing something down, which he put back to the kitchen over his next sentence. "I'm assuming it's not to see me."
Hans was equally unsure why he was still sitting there, but was willing to believe that. "No, it's not," he answered sternly.
"And I suppose you didn't know about this place, since it's been open for a month."
"No," answered Hans, as his voice trembled.
The anger, the pain, the pleasure, the confusion -- all of it seemed to be draw up by Bryce, just like the submarine first did when it surfaced upon his capsized boat.
"Perhaps," he suggested, "you want companionship."
Hans' teeth clenched at the suggestion.
"I have Leona," he snarled, changing his stare into a glower.
"Well, then, I'm out of guesses," sighed the cat, once again returning to the fox's end of the bar, and leaning on it, "why are you here?"
When the cat leaned over and stared at Hans, the compassion in his eyes was so different from the lustful gaze he had come to expect that the fox wanted to punch him. He knew he was failing to hide the anger which suddenly made him clench his fists hidden under his elbows. But Bryce did not react -- until the kitchen tossed a plate of something up on the counter behind with a loud clank.
Bryce calmly took it down, and served it to the fox with a tightly-wrapped bundle of silverware in a blue napkin. "On the house," he said, and walked back toward the hare, next to whom a much taller bear had seated himself.
Hans could tell it was a plate of fish, but it seemed very dry and salty. He dared carve out a small piece and taste it, only to find it was just the flavor he was looking for. The saltiness made him salivate heavily, and as he took more bites, it seemed to melt, the nearest approximation of the liquid for which he occasionally craved.
Almost as he began to enjoy it, however, it was gone; the fish steak was only 6 ounces. And, as if on a cue, a rather heavy-set tiger with a particularly long tail sat down next to him, and glaced at him with a knowing smile.
Hans tried to ignore him for a moment, but with his first glance to simply make out his form, he spoke. "Hi there," he offered in a gruff voice, "what's your name?"
"Hans," he answered, realizing now what must surely be on his breath.
"Seymore," he purred, eyes glinting in the dimmed lights.
Like his capture by Bryce, Hans began to feel himself getting carried along by fate toward an end he could see from here.
"Nice ears," he next growled, licking his chops quickly.
But Hans wanted more control of his fate this time. "Can you see them in this light?" he asked, his heart accelerating, "or do you need better?"
"Hmm," contemplated the striped face with a toothy grin, "I might need better light. Any suggestions?" Hans just got up and walked toward the back of the room where the restrooms were, and the tiger followed. Before he knew it, the two of them were sharing a room clearly designed for one, and as his ears were being felt over by the groping hands of a speechless tiger.
Hans was trying out that strange skill he had learned all too quickly for fear of bodily harm. He was concentrating on getting his tongue to extract from the tiger's most tender flesh the flavor which Bryce had done nothing but briefly scratch his itch for.
And once the head far above him groaned one last time, and the flavor came, Hans enjoyed it -- but was also glad when it was over. Quite to his companion's surprise, he then immediately left both the confined, tile room, and the restaraunt. Bryce barely seemed to notice his exit, to his great relief.
Walking around the corner, and wiping any last trace from his muzzle of his adventure, he headed home in an extreme state indeed: confused, upset, and aroused. He had no idea what he would do, but assumed whatever it was, he could do it with Leona.
The moment he walked in the house, he could smell that she had cooked dinner: fish. However, he was no longer hungry. He marched in, slammed the door, and headed straight into the apartment to meet her. She wore a smile, but the moment she saw him, it turned to surprise and fear.
"Hans!" she gasped, as he sat down to the food he had no intention to eat, no longer aware of what expression he had fixed to his face. "What is it?"
He didn't answer, just staring at the fish, trying to convince himself that he should eat it, and forget what he had just done.
"Don't shut me out," she demanded again with sympathy, "what's wrong!?"
The sound of her voice made his mask crack. "I did it," he choked, tears rushing to his eyes, "I finally did it."
"Did what?" she asked inevitably. He couldn't answer, but just let the tears run from his eyes as he held back sobs.
She wrapped her hands around his shoulders, and the familiar touch -- and scent, from her close presence -- overwhelmed him with guilt. He brushed the food away from him, and buried his head in his hands.
"I licked him," he sobbed, "Bryce made me lick him."
He felt her arms lay across his neck and chest, as her head leaned on his shoulder sympathetically. He knew in the back of his mind he wasn't making much sense to her without an explaination, but just kept going.
"And Jade too," he cried, "and now, I don't even know who he was... They all tasted like fish, all of them... They all were so happy... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."
He began to wish Bryce had run out of fuel, and all of them suffocated; or that Bryce had discovered his tretchery on that fateful day, and cut him in two with the machine gun. But, perhaps fortunately, his verbal mind was too weak to put them into words.
The only thing he heard was, "I forgive you."
Even with full knowledge she had no power to forgive what she couldn't understand, it created a tiny ripple in his ocean of pain. He wanted to hear it again. "What?" he asked to prod the response again.
"I forgive you, whatever it is you've done," she repeated. "What Bryce did to you wasn't your fault."
"No, but I liked it," he whined; for despite his desire to end the pain, another part of him seemed determined to make it last. "They tasted like fish!" he insisted morosely, his favorite food a justification in itself, "And they loved it; who wouldn't. And when I saw that tiger, I was -- I don't know."
She didn't say anything, but her eyes didn't change from their sympathetic gaze. "All I want is -- dinner alone, once in a while. I need you, but just need this too."
"You promise it won't go any futher?" she asked quietly. It seemed oil had finally been poured over the water; it was enough of an understanding that she was afraid, and yet accepting his suggestion, that he was willing to believe in her inention.
"Certain not," he sighed, almost managing a smile, "I don't even want to think of anything else someone might ask me to do, and the only one I'll ever love is you."
This seemed to satisfy her. With mutual understanding, she sat down, and ate her fish beside him. Before the topic moved onto other things, Hans did add that it was Captain Bryce who ran the place, and tricked him into his new habit. She seemed not to like that idea, but never changed her answer.
Indeed, as the months went by, that dinner alone was always noticed -- it reflected in her eyes, Hans could swear -- but never commented upon. Life had, finally, returned to normal as normal as he wanted.
The End.
(version 1.0)