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Time Enough for One

Author: Jake-Rabbit

https://jake-rabbit.sofurry.com/

Twitter: @DamnDirtyFurry

http://damndirtyfurry.tumblr.com/

2150.245.25 (Day 15)

In space, no one can hear you scream. By extension, it must also be true that no one can hear you bitch, scream, shriek, bawl, or lament your lot in life. I've been stuck on this fucking life raft for two weeks, and I just ran out of supplies for attempting any sort of repairs on the hull that would enable me to live in anything but the cockpit and forwards compartment of this goddamned ship. Let alone try and reach the FTL drives. So yeah. I've done my share of screaming. Which is unfortunately at odds with conserving oxygen.

So, for the next...gods knows how long...it's me. Hayadi Onai...captain of the SS Well And Truly Fucked. At least until the scrubbers fail. Then I'm just space debris. To my left is hard vacuum. To my right is hard vacuum. In fact, everywhere around me is pretty much lethal. Ain't it a gas? Or...lack thereof, I suppose.

I am keeping this log in case I'm found too late. Or to just keep myself organized and sane. I was initially optimistic that I'd be found within a couple days, but I'm not sure if that's the case anymore.

I was aboard the SS Intron when it got attacked. I don't know by what, but by the time the order was given to abandon ship, a good quarter of the ship was already missing, and everything was shutting down. The shuttle I dived into was already damaged, but when I saw the outside hull buckling, I knew I had no choice...and knew I wouldn't have anyone to play cards with. I cleared the docking ports just as the hull buckled in on the bay. I managed to get some distance before other ship detonated a nuke in the middle of the wreckage of the Intron...no idea why someone would do that. Not that it matters now. I had just enough juice in the drives to get a light year away, and then, with a guttural "screw you!", it decided to give out. Dead. In the middle of open space. At least I don't think I was followed.

For the past two weeks, I've spent my waking hours trying to repair the hull so that I could at least get into the rest of the compartments, and, at best, effect some meaningful repairs on the FTL drives or FTL communications array. But whatever that other ship did, it tore the Intron apart in such a way that there are thousands upon thousands of microscopic holes in the shuttle's rear compartments; from shrapnel, I believe. I'm lucky I didn't suck vacuum the minute I cleared the docking ports. Probably, due to how the shuttle was oriented in the bay. The computer took over and sealed off most of the leaking compartments. The repair jobs felt like I was chasing my own tail. As soon as I patched up one hole, I found another. I spent hours in the EVA suit, simmering in my own juices and cursing up a storm as I went through tube after tube of patching compound.

I ran out of repair supplies yesterday. No more spare plating, no more patching compound, and the last line for the arc welder got severed in a micrometeorite storm yesterday. I spent this evening bawling over a cup of reconstituted vegetable soup.

At least tears have some amount of salt in them. Probably made the soup taste a little better. Tomorrow I'll take inventory of what I have in the compartments I have access to, and then take a walk in the EVA suit to gather supplies from the exposed compartments.

2150.247.18 (Day 17)

So here I am. I've run an inventory of the ship. I've got plenty of food, plenty of water, and air enough to last me a few months. I've got a mangled FTL communications array, and only the sublight emergency beacon. The main living quarters is in hard vacuum, as is the commissary. Thankfully, I've managed to pull most of the supplies to the forwards compartments so they will be easy to get to. The food, being in open space, has a nice, natural refrigerator. Which is fine, I suppose, but the ice cream is diamond-hard unless you let it sit out for an hour. I found a couple outdated books in the hold, and a datapad to play movies on. My bed is the captain's chair, pillows tied to the arms and seat, and a multitude of thermal blankets and low gravity to keep me comfortable at night.

It's a waiting game now. I keep sending out a pre-recorded distress call at sublight speeds, hoping that either the search and rescue team hasn't already given up, or that some passing craft intercepts my signal. For those of you playing at home, consider that the explored universe is only, at maximum, some 400 light years in any one direction from Noa. And that we were already on the edge of it when we were attacked. And just to make this game fun, all I have is the sublight emergency beacon. Which means someone has to be within .03 light years of me in order to intercept the signal.

Time to poke at the brick of ice cream and hope I can find something to listen to in the ship's library. Or manage to take a shower. My fur's getting really matted and dirty from all the work I've been doing during the day.

2150.249.16 (Day 19)

To my delight, I found some music on an old pad in the aft section. It's all "golden oldies" type or traditional folk...one collection of vapid pop songs...so not a great find, but the folk reminds me of days spent with my family at reunions or on vacation. My dad was an archaeologist, and loved taking us to see the old Human ruins he'd found over the years. Creepy stuff, if you ask me. It was like they just up and left thousands of years ago, leaving nothing behind but equipment, and even meals on the tables. That stuff gave me nightmares as a kid, but I really looked forwards to time with him in the square, listening to bands on stage, and playing with other kids. I've told Roan, my boyfriend, that if we have kids, the first thing their grandad will do will be to take them there and spoil them rotten.

I've also discovered that the fur on the end of my tail is growing in really thick. I guess when you're not constantly moving around and using it like a defacto featherduster all over the place, you get a bit more tuft. Or maybe it's the partial gravity.Either way, I'm happy with the new look.

Tonight, I think I will treat myself. A tough, reconstituted slab of mystery meat. The texture is exquisite; not unlike eating the bottom of your boot, and the taste is pretty comparable. After due deliberation and consultation with the chef, we have paired this with a watery tea, utilizing only the best leaves and blooms from twenty years ago. The subtle flavoring imparted upon the unique plasticine scents from waters from artisanal wells aboard the SS Well and Truly Fucked add hints of desperation and desolation that you won't get anywhere else. Drinking recycled and filtered wastewater was never this good.

2150.250.16 (Day 20)

I tried doing some repairs to the FTL communications array today. I simply cannot get my fingers in where they need to be while inside a hard suit. I'm all thumbs. Why they didn't design these things to be more serviceable when in vacuum is beyond me. I'm guessing, in a mad rush to miniaturize everything, they forgot about actually making them something you could repair.

The FTL drives are no better. I managed to get some debris out of the way of the main core today, and a giant hole in one of the power inverters has assured me that I shouldn't be in such a rush to get anywhere, and to just quietly enjoy the journey. Take in the sights. To your right is lot of nothing with far away specs of light generated by stars so far off you'll be dust by the time you get to them. This natural formation was carved out of nothingness over the course of billions of years. To your left is...more of the same. In fact, you're surrounded by nothing, in the middle of everything.

To my absolute horror, I have also discovered that one of my most critical supplies is more limited than I thought. I'm going to have to enforce some very serious rationing, else I'll need to make some serious decisions sooner than I wanted.

Thus, the ice cream bars will be rationed to one every other day.

2150.251.16 (Day 21)

More work on the FTL array. I tried hooking the controller up to a specially rigged datapad. Something happened before it all shorted out. I could be mistaken, but a partial message might have gotten out. I'm hopeful that's the case, as the entire path to the antennas themselves is completely shot now.

Other than supplies, there is no reason to go into the aft compartments now. The FTL drive is a lost cause, and now, the array is dead for real now. Thankfully, the reactor is in a good place, humming along. Venting radiation, sure, but aft of where I'm at, so I'm pretty OK with that situation at least. I'll keep my eye on it.

My fur is getting into a pretty interesting state, all told. Two weeks in, I felt like a cavewoman, with matted fur and wiry hair. Three weeks now, and it's started to settle down and, dare I say it, almost be clean. I guess not washing it incessantly every single day made the natural oils reset. I still feel like a water mammal more than a land one; or at least I've been hitting the conditioner like an obsessive-compulsive. The occasional sponge bath is about all I can manage with the limited space I have, anyways.

But every time I don the hard suit and go into the living quarters, part of me wishes I'd stopped trying to patch engineering, and instead concentrated there, so that I could bathe and sleep on a real bed. A girl has to have her priorities, and damned if a long, hot shower doesn't rank up there with sending a call for help, right?

2150.254.19 (Day 24)

I've pulled some more blankets and pillows up from the living quarters and managed to make the cockpit into quite the little love nest. With some creative use of cargo straps and netting, I've created a hammock. The pilot's seat removed relatively easily, and I installed the hammock in it's place. I probably have the comfiest seat in the entire fleet, something even the glass-bottomed admirals couldn't compete with. Of course, it's also my bed. And reading nook. And my entire living space. But hey, it's got a great view of the universe, and the proximity Lidar.

I've even found some wax pencils in the supply cabinet so that I can use the main windscreen as a canvas. My first masterpiece I tilted "Fat Cock and Furry Bollocks Fucking Infinity." I think I'll hang it in the living room when I get home.

2150.256.19 (Day 26)

For the last two days, I have been trying an experiment. My ebony fur has smoothed out and retained a nice, beautiful sheen to it from not being fussed over with products all the time. And if I have any perceptible body odor problems, I certainly haven't caught on to it. But every time I slip back into my jumpsuit, I feel disgusting and itchy. So, since it's only me and Father Universe out there, I've foregone any sort of clothing, save for my earrings, necklace, and, well, other jewelry.

I've never felt better. I mean, sure, there have been the weekends on shore leave where I did nothing but wander about the house in the nude and eat horrible candies and pastries all day, but I always had the blinds drawn, or had the looming threat of someone coming over and knocking on my door, making me need to dash for a robe and hope my hair wasn't too out of control. But here? Here, I'd get a warning before anyone got within a couple hours. It made lounging in the nude a pleasurable, relaxing situation.

Is it too much to ask for a local star, some sunglasses, and a big, floppy hat, too?

2150.257.19 (Day 27)

I think I'll have to clean my canvas of "Fat Cocks" soon. I find myself taking longer to get up after a nap, what with staring out into space, and letting my fingers wander as I take in the visage of a giant prick on a collision course for a local nebulae that I've realized is shaped rather..conveniently.

It starts the mind to wandering, and before I know it, I'm a couple fingers into a full-on riotous orgasm. Legs extended up over the back of the hammock, toes spread out, and looking out the windscreen upside down, watching the distant stars outside slowly move and twinkle as the ship rotates.

2150.258.20 (Day 28)

My artistic renditions of a vagina are not that great, but at least my masterpiece now has a companion piece in my little gallery. If you find this log, don't judge me. At the very least for my lack of artistic talent. You try being cooped up for a month, with no company, and be right on the cusp of heat. I want to see you not get a little weird.

I've broken my rationing of the ice cream bars. One a day now. I did a count. At this rate, I can make them last three months. I'll probably have killed myself by then, anyways.

2150.262.19 (Day 32)

I find myself asking one question and one question only right now; Why could they have not waited a month to attack the Intron? One measly month, and I'd have been able to take something to suppress the heat for another three months. But OH NO. They had to, right then. And now I'm stuck, in the middle of nowhere, and just spent an entire day with my fingers buried deep in-between my legs. The white patch of fur over my lap, that no one sees...I've just been spread legged and showing it to the universe as my fingers just twist and turn and..thrust...and stroke...thumb sorta, y'know...tease like this over my hood and...

...I've got to eat at some point. I think soup. I'll skip the ice cream bar. I don't trust myself around anything phallic right now.

2150.262.22 (Day 32)

Chocolate and ice cream is a bitch to clean from your fur. Just saying.

2150.264.16 (Day 34)

I've come to terms that if space doesn't kill me, my hormones will. There is a good reason that women often will take suppressants onboard long haulers, as there is all too often just no good way to get that...urgent itch scratched. I've searched the aft compartments high and low, and can't find a first aid kit with any suppressants. By the looks of things, I am wondering if the maintenance crew responsible for keeping up the shuttles had ever even bothered with thinking about including them. If I get out of this, I think I'll write a letter to the admiralty about it.

2150.265.16 (Day 35)

I'm getting tired of listening to Trinna Fayde on the loudspeakers. Out of all the music I found, she's the only vocalist in all of it, and so the only voice I hear is hers, belting out some insipid love song, some tarty, cheesy teenage melodramatic lyric. It's sappy, saccharine, and I hate it, as the whole concept that she calls love is nothing like the real thing. Where's the bickering about which takeout joint to order from, the nights spent tormenting each other with your quirks, or the realization that neither of you wanted to go to a wedding, only to realize it at the reception...and sneak into a back room to catch a quick, awkwards screw among the festivities? You know the kind, right? Where it's a mad dash to squeeze two bodies into a closet or back room, hands scrambling to find a zipper, buttons, anything...desperate to get at each other.

I did that with a girlfriend once. Not THAT kind of girlfriend, I mean...not at first, anyways. Mitti was just a girl friend I'd known for years. Another Mus chick from Corush. Nice, classically curvy redhead of a girl. White fur, and pepperings of black spots all over. We'd both gone to a wedding of a mutual friend together. After all the preparation, the crying, the ceremony, the niceties at the reception, we were just done with it. Both of us were tired, and we decided to share a dance together for fun.

We were both leaning into each other during the slow dance, and I must have just let my hands drop down her back and rest on that perfect shelf of a rear she has. I didn't mean it, and I was about to pull my hands back up, but I felt Mitti's hands trace down my spine and rest atop my own backside. Her muzzle brushed mine, and when I had a chance to look into her eyes, her black and white face just broke into a disarming, hazy smile, and we shared a kiss right there on the dance floor.

Throughout the rest of the dance, her hands were kneading at my rear now and again, and I couldn't help myself but push up against her front, letting her feel how warm I was, and how stiff my nipples had gotten from just the hot rush of kissing my best friend there on the dance floor.

Well, to cut to it, we both realized that we didn't want to be at the wedding anymore, but neither of us wanted to wait to go home. So we snuck off into one of the other rooms. The venue was huge, and the wedding party only used a couple of the rooms, so we found a ballroom being used for storage. It was dusty, a little cold, and smelled of mothballs, but before either of us had a chance to chicken out, we slipped behind a stack of tables, and were grabbing at each other's dresses like teenagers, pursuing a quick, casual screw in the supply closet.

I ended up being able to coax Mitti onto her back, and with her mewling like a kit, pulled her skirt right up over her hips. She'd not worn a damn thing under that dress, the tart. Her fur was ivory and shorn short, her pink pussy bothered and wet, making the golden ring in one of her lips just glisten in what little light we had, like a beacon for my eyes. I...didn't waste any time, and quickly found myself muzzle-deep between her thighs, feeling her hot, soft thighs against my cheeks, and the hot musk of her scent in my nose.

She was moaning out so loud I thought for sure we'd be caught, but when I tried to back off, she just hooked her leg about my head, pulling me into her lap as if she'd netted me, making sure I had my focus only on her. I just let my tongue caress over those velvet folds of hers, my hands stroking along her hips. Gods, they were so soft and full; she has always been so much curvier than me, and I couldn't help but whine as I ate her out, lust rolling my tongue along her pretty pink pussy, drinking in those deep, intoxicating scents of hers, and pushing my tongue in deep to get her to really bellow out as she came.

By the time Mitti let go of my head, her heavy tits were spilled out of her dress, and she was just panting on the floor. My muzzletip was wet and matted, but she saw to cleaning that off by giving me quite a few kisses before we buttoned up. That night didn't end there. I specifically remember sitting on the couch at home, bare as anything, with a glass of wine in one hand, one leg propped up on the arm of the couch, and my best friend, kneeled down and putting her spotted muzzle to work between my thighs. I was lucky I didn't spill my drink.

I still see her from time to time. Perhaps I'll look her up when I get home.

2150.266.14 (Day 36)

...I've been practicing my artistic skills to keep my mind occupied and hands away from my lap. I've wiped out my two masterpieces and am focusing in on life drawing. "Draw what you see", they say. So I'm drawing my feet, my hands, the holographic HUD emitter on the windscreen...I even tried an ice cream bar, as a speed challenge. I wasn't expecting bites to disappear as I was drawing it. Such is the challenges of being an artist. I make sacrifies for my work. I do!

2150.268.16 (Day 38)

I think my cycle is finally passing. Thank god. I swear to you, I've humped about every surface in this cockpit, and then some. Even while gathering some supplies from the aft compartment, I managed to rub one off against the hard edge of a cargo container. I don't even bother with the jumpsuit underneath anymore, as the EVA suit is plenty warm by itself. So I'm just bare naked under that. And, well, I was crawling over a container to get at a crate of dehydrated food packs, and my crotch just grazed over the edge of the container. I just froze and shuddered, thinking twice about it, but couldn't help it. I just pressed down against that edge and let it press and rub the fabric of that suit in and against me. The sensation was electrifying, and I couldn't stop. The vsor on an EVA suit fogs up really quickly when you're not only breathing hard, but your're rubbing yourself off and getting all heated and wet from it. I'm not afraid to say that I humped the devil out of that container like I was a young girl again, rubbing against the corner of the desk in my room at my parent's house. I could just feel the trickle down my thighs when my peak hit.

...in space, no one can hear you orgasm? Well, I certainly heard myself, and let me tell you, your own voice rings your ears in a hard helmet. Though the O2 alarm snapped me out of it. Sadly, masturbating in an EVA suit isn't an efficient use of oxygen. I got my food and got out of there.

2151.001.16 (Day 45)

Happy New Year! In celebration of the event, I have spent all of today eating only the best foods from my limited pantry. The last package of Terankhani was consumed, and I cracked open the only bottle of alcohol I've managed to scrounge up, some sour tasting swill from some backwater on Corocurri. Still, it gave me a mighty buzz.

I've not quite the space to do many of the dances, and I certainly don't have the ability to light a big bonfire, but at least I had the whole bare-as-the-day-you-arrived thing down pat, and managed to make a makeshift drum out of a bucket and some spare plastic stretched out over the top. It wasn't quite the same as being on the beach with all my friends, though, enjoying grilled fish and smoking up.

It's okay, though. I only broke down twice today. I think that's a pretty good number, considering.I wonder if Roan feels the same. I hope he is still holding up hope.

2151.008.17 (Day 52)

---

Today was spent reading through the one novel I have for the fifth time, and working on my art while listening to music. I've got a pretty good rendition of my foot going, and have started getting better at hands. I'm pleased by my progress in a short amount of time. I'm thinking about signing up for classes, but they start really quickly. I'll talk to the counselor tomorrow.

I spent a few hours over the past week checking out the ship's systems. The reactor is still humming, and the radiation leak hasn't progressed. The emergency beacon is still going strong, and the O2 scrubbers have quite a bit of time left in them. The heaters are working, and aside from a slight leakage, I've got more than enough water in the tanks to last...well..longer than I want to be here. So I guess there is comfort in that, though at this point, I'm relatively sure the search and rescue teams have given up.

I did find a set of clubs in the cargo bay. I'm guessing the commander had been planning on taking some shore leave? Either way, I decided to work on my swing, out the back cargo port. I have to say, for not having played in years, and wearing an EVA suit, my swing is pretty good, and I got some distance and straight shots. I do have to wonder what some future civilization will think when their ship gets hit by a golf ball a thousand years from now. I'm pretty sure the humans didn't expect to impart golf upon us, and I get a little giggle out of thinking that the club I chucked out the back might hit that future ship as well, leading to a new round of players.

Trinna's voice is growing on me. I found myself listening to one of her songs about lost love, and getting weepy thinking about Roan. I wonder if he knows? If he does...has he given up looking for me? No. No, I don't think he has. He's stubborn. And his dad owns a cargo hauler. So I bet they're out here looking for me.

Even so...two ice cream bars tonight.

2151.011.17 (Day 55)

I've prepared one of my masterpieces of culinary cuisine today. Pot roast mixed with Accadian pickled vegetables. It makes the vaguely tasteless imitation meat taste with hot chilis and brine. It's one way to choke down protein, I guess. There isn't much choice in food aboard this ship. I'll have to write a note to the cruise director, and let him know that while I found the service excellent, he should have a word with the chef about variety on the menu.

2151.016.10 (Day 60)

I have a confession. I was listening to Trinna again. And that same song came on. You know, the one about lost love? The one that makes me think of Roan? Well, it happened again. I couldn't stop thinking about him. My mind wandered to our first couple dates. He was a real gentleman the first few dates. Didn't try to do more than kiss me. Almost adorably shy. I think that's why I liked him from the start; he wasn't going to push me to do anything I didn't already want to. Always polite, always gentle and timely. Took me out to the most wonderful places to eat. Took me home, kissed me on the cheek and let me just simmer and writhe until the next time we met.

By the fourth date, when he kissed me on the cheek, I could not let him get away again. I pulled him in and just planted a big, warm kiss on him while squeezing my arms around him, as if I could prevent him from leaving. There we were, on the porch in front of my house, just swimming in each other's embrace. It was amazing, but despite all his gentlemanly exterior, the poor boy was already rock hard under his slacks.

Now, let me tell you, Lapin are not known for being hung very well...but Roan.. Oh my god. I'm feeling a little flushed even thinking about him. My thighs just clenched and quivered the minute I felt him pressing that fat thing up against me, his clothed prick just pressing to my mound through my skirt, wide girth rubbing against me. It wasn't really an option then; I had to take him inside, if anything, to just see what he was hiding.

I pulled him into my house by his collar, his long ears laid back along his head..he was a little embarrassed, but I wasn't really buying it! I knew he was about a hair's breadth away from a raging erection, and wanted nothing more than to be with me, right then. Once I'd shut the door, I didn't give him an option to protest. Instead, I just dropped to my knees and started unfastening his pants straight away. He certainly wasn't going to protest, and instead was running his hands through my hair. I'd no sooner got his pants undone and pulled them open then I got hit in the face - literally - with what he was packing. It's one of those moments where you giggle about it in bed later, both of you panting, sticky, happy, and you bring up the fact that his cock just sprung out and slapped you right in the face. A nice, hollow "thock" as that fat tip thumped my muzzle. Neither of us had much time to giggle, you see. Animal lust takes over, and you just go with what you've got, right? And before either of us could laugh, I had my mouth clean around him and was making damn sure that he was going to explode very soon.

Now, see, when you've been stranded in deep space for two months, and you haven't had any play, it doesn't take much to get the juices flowing. So at this point in the fantasy, I was about two knuckles deep, headed for a third. Just splayed out in my hammock, legs spread wide towards the windscreen, for anyone to see. Pink rat cunt aimed out towards the empty universe. You betcha. Maybe some future astronomer will have a telescope so good they can see the glint off my hood ring from light years away.

So Roan, he's a bit of a hair trigger, if you'll pardon the pun, right? So after only a few moments of this, he pushed my head back, leaving me to just rub and tease my muzzle against his prick, nose buried deep into his fur there as my hands clenched at firm Lapin ass. He pulled me up, and kissed me...Gods, did he. That man sent the most delightful, knee-wobbling shiver down my spine as he hugged me against him. His strong arms were enough, but the feel of that eager prick just nudging and rubbing my belly sent me into a hormonal overdrive. I was just about to pull up my skirt and hop on him when he turned me around, pressing me up against a wall. His hands went right for my skirt, and pulled it straight up. I wasn't wearing anything under. I think he knew it all along, and gave me a swat against my round ass before pressing that cock right up against the black and white cheeks.

Another thing you do when you're randy and stranded is, you improvise. You see, I've got a penchant for sculpture. And while it's crude, I found that an emergency flashlight and some fast-set plastic bond makes for a rather good approximation of the real deal. Certainly there is no survival manual anywhere that details how to fashion your own dildo in an emergency, but be damned if I won't write one when I get home. So I'm sitting here, listening to this song, panting and just wound up, with this toy just rubbing and teasing and nudging at my sex, just barely hinting at pushing in deeper in for its inaugural ride.

So he had me against the wall..skirt up...shaft against my ass. I won't lie, I was completely soaked and just quivering at this point. And he knew it. He grasped that prick and edged it down as I was grabbing at the walls, scratching at them like a crazed beast, mad at him for teasing me. He leaned over my back and kissed me on the lips, then started to tease and rub his length against my sex. I was whining and pushing back....and then he found his angle, and just slid right in, that healthy prick of his spreading me, a sort of parting that you feel intimately, a sensation that you haven't been accustomed to, a welcome, foreign invader that was hell bent on making me come hard, and turning my legs to jelly.

I pushed that toy in deep, and let me tell you, whether it was a rigged-up piece of sexual machinery or not, it felt amazing. My hips lifted off the hammock, and thighs just clenched. It was no Roan, but I could make do.

I remembered him as he held there, hips still, both of us just bathing in the warm, intimate embrace of the other, not wanting to move, but driven by primal instinct to do exactly that. He drew his hips back first, then sent them crashing back against my ass. Now, I've lost weight during this whole adventure, but back then, I had a lot of ass, let me tell you; he just made sure to slap his hips against it, hands pressed into the cheeks and spreading them wide. My cheeks were hot with lust, contrasting the cool draft his paws made as they spread me open like that. His hips...god, they said Lapin had it all in their hips, and that's no lie. He was strong, urgent, yet gentle enough to make it last for both of us.

I was twisting and turning that toy; being anything but gentle as my hand worked it inside me. Even right now...I'm twitchy just from thinking about it. I was busy stroking along my sex and over my chest, plunging a makeshift toy where no flashlight has gone before. It was deliriously good.

Roan just plowed me. No one tells you that your first time with someone isn't going to be this drawn out, long, loving and beautiful affair. No one tells you that it's likely to happen while snuck away somewhere you shouldn't be, with your clothing pulled away just enough to get things where they need to be. No one tells you it'll be hard, fast, lusty and instinctual. And that you'll both come within moments, popping like a cork on a Champagne bottle, letting all that pressure out at once. It's a classic case of what you want, vs. what you need. You just happen to find out after that they're one in the same.

So in my mind, I'm remembering him thrusting hard against me, hands sliding up under my blouse and caressing along my breasts...daring to tease my nipples, which was nearly painful at first, at least until I pressed my chest into his hands, desiring his touch, and letting him just light up every part of my body. I'm plunging that toy deep in now, just working myself into a messy, hormonal froth...and then holding it deep as my peak hit, thighs clenching hard around that length, remembering how Roan just gasped out and pushed in deep, holding there as he came. A quick, furtive fuck, right there in my entryway, the both of us twitching and grinding against the other.

As I relaxed in the cockpit, so did I, in my entryway. He shuddered, then reluctantly withdrew, turning me around to kiss me, my lips still quivering, tears running down the fur on my face. He took me in his arms, kissed my pouting bottom lip, and looked me in the eyes.

And then, in a squeaky, sing-song, teenage girl voice said "I want you to be my babby daddy."

.....Did I mention yet that I've deleted all the Trinna songs from the datapads?

2151.036.15 (Day 80)

Another trip to the cargo hold. I'm starting to run out of some of the better foodstuffs. Pretty soon, I'll be moving on to combat rations. I've decided that I'll alternate the good MREs with the rations so that I don't get too bored with the selection. I've already penned another letter to the cruise director to express my dissatisfaction. I tried talking to him yesterday, but the chef assured me that he was going to have a chat with him.

Additionally, I've been working on my art more. I've moved on to still life, drawing some fruits that I picked off a tree on one of my walks this evening. Fall is a wonderful time, I love the colors that come out this time of year. The nebulae are losing their leaves, and I can just stare at it all day.

2151.046.17 (Day 90)

I took a trip to the grocery store today, and found that they'd sold out of all their ice cream. All of it! The nerve! I didn't think it was possible for them to run out, but some numbnut must have forgotten to order more. I expressed my displeasure to the manager and walked back home. Roan had called and left a message, but it was cut off. Bad connection, likely. I can't wait to see him again.

Meanwhile, my art is progressing. I've been taking a life drawing class. That means nude models, you know. Oddly, the lady Mus model looks a lot like me. It's sort of disquieting, honestly. She's pretty, but she could stand to eat more. Her hair is a mess as well. I think I'll suggest my stylist to her next time I see her.

I think I'll sit down tonight with a bottle of wine and wait for Fred to visit. The wine is sort of watery, but it's far better than what I've been drinking lately. A glass of wine does wonders for company, too. Fred's a really bright personality, but he doesn't say much. Total beast between the sheets, however.

2151.056.19 (Day 100)

I put on the EVA suit again today and spent some time in the rest of the ship that hadn't been irradiated by the reactor, looking for food and any other supplies I could use. At this point, I'm pretty sure I've scoured the entire ship, and there isn't anything of value left. At least time in the EVA suit seems to clear my head some. I've been feeling in a haze the last week or so.

Fred stopped by to see me, at least. He's a total tease, and wanted to get frisky, but I told him I was pretty knackered out from roaming the hold. Instead, him and I sat down to have a quiet dinner, one of the last packages of noodles. He didn't say much during the meal, but it was nice to have company.

2151.071.26 (Day 115)

---

Roan tried to call again. I wasn't able to get to the phone in time. He didn't leave a message. I cried myself to sleep, I miss him so much. I wish he'd come home. I don't understand why he doesn't come home. Just for a weekend? I'd be more mad if I didn't love him so.

Art classes are going great. I've been working on a big canvas lately, and really coming to like drawing models. The Mus girl stopped modeling; I think she got too thin for the school's liking, so they replaced her with this really nicely built Racca male. Good lord almighty, I could just spend all night drawing his, uh, parts...I guess the girls at the office didn't lie when they said that Racca boys were built big. Woof.

Fred's been coming over more and more lately. I'm glad Roan and him get along so well, and that Roan doesn't mind me sleeping with Fred from time to time. I still have to struggle to get a word out of him, though. But he's got no issue getting a few out of me. Usually expletives that make me feel I need to go to Temple the next day.

Tonight, he came over after dinner, and we ended up flirting. He's not the best with his hands, and he doesn't say much, but my god, he's got a cock that just makes me ache, and never seems to go down. He had me over the pilot's console before I knew what he was up to, and while he rode me there, making me fog up the window with my heaving panting, I had an idea. I decided to see if he wanted to take me under the tail...and when I offered it up to him he was pretty shy about it at first, but then just laid down on the plating, cock standing straight up.

He's not a small boy by any stretch, oh no. And as I turned my back to him and squatted down over him, I started to realize just what I'd gotten myself into. His big, thick tip just pressed hard to my rear, stretching me already. It felt a little uncomfortable, but when he eventually managed to slip inside, I almost lost it right there, just clutching and shivering around his prick at first before bouncing on him, working my rear over his length, wondering how it looked, even if I seem to have lost a little back there. I could just see him, fat black cock pushed up into my pink ass, and it wasn't long before I was using my fingers, desperately stroking my sex in an attempt to hasten my own climax.

I came, and hard, I've never squirted before, but gods if I didn't then, just all over the plating. I could hear my cries ringing in the cockpit. My thighs clenched and my rear just ached. But it hurt so, so good.

I suppose I should at least apologize to my neighbors for the noise. Speaking of which, I haven't heard from them in a while. Maybe I'll go see if they are home tomorrow. Right now, I want to find some ice for my ass, and another glass of wine.

2151.076.27 (Day 115)

Roan called! And I managed to pick up the phone in time! He said he'd be home as soon as he could, but was having trouble remembering the address. He's always such a joker. I gave him directions just to humor him, but he didn't seem really amused. Oh well.

I asked him if he could bring a couple things home when he gets here. Something from the market. Some takeout. I'm getting tired of eating out of my fridge. I think maybe it's broken. Everything's gone stale. He said he'd try. I know he will. He's a good boy. I hope he brings something. I threw out all the nasty, stale food. Can't eat that, wouldn't serve it to anyone. Besides, with Roan coming home, I can have him get better.

2151.081.16 (Day 120)

I think my cycle is hitting again. I can't keep my hands off myself again, but this time I feel sort of sick all the time. I'm going to have to call the doctor and see f he can't prescribe me something. My trysts with Fred are fun, but after he leaves, I sometimes pass out in bed, or just can barely get up the next day.

Roan called yesterday, and I gave him a list of food that I wanted him to bring home. When he asked why, I told him that I'd thrown it all out since it was going bad. I think he was mad at me at first, and got really terse and used that voice on me. I don't like that voice.

I ended up turning into a bawling mess and closing off the channel. God, he must think I'm such a basketcase.

2151.086.27 (Day 125)

---

Roan called again. He caught me while Fred was over, and the three of us had a nice, long chat. Roan was pretty quiet for awhile...I was afraid I'd done something to upset him. So I got to talking with Fred and let Roan sort of stew for a minute. Fred's got a great personality, but he's always so touchy. I'm glad he's coming out of his shell, though.

I didn't realize that Roan was a voyeur, he sat and watched as Fred made a repeat of our night where he took me over the console. That just, well, it made the whole act insanely hot. Fred took me from behind again, and let Roan watch while he just fucked me up my tail again...making me just collapse when I came this time. I just fell onto my knees.

I'm pretty sure that Roan enjoyed the show, but when I managed to say goodbye to Fred, there was someone else on the video. I just shrunk down so that only my head was visible in the stream. He was a young guy, and must have seen something, because his face was beet red, which I find a little amusing. I stood up and asked him his name, doing a little pirouette for him. Sergeant something something. I forget. I told him he had the wrong number, and hung up. Bet I made his day.

Art's going great! I don't think Roan really liked my newest masterpiece, though. I told him not to worry, that he shouldn't think he has to compete with a picture, and that I've got a great landscape going on along the aft doors that he will love.

2151.087.27 (Day 126)

Roan is on his way! He said he finally remembered my address, so now he can come home! He asked if I could clean the house a little before he got home, though. Silly. He knows I keep a clean house. He asked if we could have the night alone, and to maybe send Fred home. I guess I'm okay with that. He asked some weird questions, though. He wanted me to adjust the mixture on the blender, and was curious if I'd taken the coolant out yet. I'm still not sure what he meant by that.

I hope he brings food.

2151.088.20 (Day 127)

Mitti called today! Wow! What a wild couple days this has been. I guess she's doing okay, but she's a Lieutenant now? I guess. She said in the guard or something. I don't know, honestly. She's changed, though. She must have dyed her fur brown, and she's got this total butch crop of black hair on her head.

I'd still totally do her. I confessed to her that I'd thought of that night we shared. I guess she wasn't in the mood to reminisce, as she kept asking me to concentrate, to tell her what was around me.

We talked for a long time, but I thought it weird she just wanted to make small talk.

2151.089.27 (Day 128)

Sergeant what-his-butt called again. I tried to tell him he had the wrong number, but he was insistent that he had the right one. So I humored him and sat in the hammock while we chatted. His face was red at first, but I think he got used to seeing me all spread out. It was fun making his face light up just by letting my fingers drift here and there, though.

He kept asking about the goddamned blender and if I'd taken the coolant out yet. First Roan, now this guy? Maybe they know each other. I told him that if he wanted to come over for frozen drinks from the blender, he was more than welcome to, and that I'd make sure I cleaned house before he came to take care of any "coolant" problems or whatever. I told him he'd better bring food, cause the fridge was empty, and a handful of rubbers, because he was cute and I was in cycle.

I've never heard someone stutter so much.

2151.090.20 (Day 129)

Roan has been calling all the time. I feel horribly sick, and don't want to pick up the phone and let him see me like this. He left messages, telling me he was on his way. That I should take out the coolant. What is he talking about? I turned the fridge off so that he didn't have to worry about that, I guess.

I haven't seen Fred in days. That's okay. I don't feel like company right now. I just want Roan to come home. I'm hungry. I hope he remembers to bring me some noodles from that Mujinan place on 3rd. I love those noodles.

2151.091.18 (Day 130)

Roan called again today, said he was looking for the house, but would be home soon. It was all I could do to muster up a smile and blow a kiss to him before closing the channel.

I can barely get out of the hammock, and my artwork has suffered as a result. Even getting up to use the bathroom takes everything out of me.

2151.093.15 (Day 132)

Roan hasn't called today. I still feel horrible. I can't move, and my entire body aches.

I tried to watch some video, but all that's on is this "Prox Alarm" show that's just a blinking light, over and over again.

I've been sleeping so much. If I get out of this, I won't sleep, ever again.

2151.094.01 (Day 133)

2151.101.06 (Day 140)

Roan is home! I woke up to see his face smiling down at me! And he brought food! But he only brought drinks. It's better than nothing, and tastes like chalk, but I could drink way more than he gives me. I guess he's looking after my figure, after all. Such a kind boy. My mother will love him. We've moved into another part of the house, and there' a new bed, and lots of paper for me to draw on. I haven't seen Fred in a few weeks, I guess he went on a trip?

I met the "Sergeant" from the comm today, too! His name is Kirkpatrick. I told him it was a silly name, but he was a cute guy, and I appreciated the chats we had. For a Canin guy, which I'm usually not into, I could totally hop him. He spilled the lunch he was bringing me when I gave him a grope to see just how well this cute boy was hung.

2151.102.18 (Day 142)

Roan hasn't been around as much, but Mitti came by. I guess I misunderstood her, when she said she was in the Guard. Turns out she's some doctor or something. She's a pretty good one, too, I gather. Took some of my blood and put something in a bag above me. I noticed it was attached to my arm by some tube.

She told me not to worry, and to keep making entries in my log, that it was good to document. She also told me that they'd start me on solid foods in a couple days.

I gave her a hug, and couldn't help but grab her rear. She let out a squeak and just looked at me, then patted me on the head. I guess she was too busy being professional and all.

---

2151.109.18 (Day 149)

I feel that I'm coming out of a fog. Dr. Jolan, or as she jokingly refers to herself around me, Dr Mitti, has said I had acute coolant poisoning, coupled with dehydration and malnutrition. She said I was coding as they took me of the shuttle.

I can't stand to look at myself. I look like a skeleton, and my tits and ass are half the size they used to be. Sergeant Kirkpatrick tells me that I'll be transferred to the Carrier Silverstrand tomorrow for debriefing and observation. I haven't talked to Roan yet.

I won't be making more entries until I'm off the Silverstrand. Sgt. Kirkpatrick said I'd understand after I was aboard.

2151.110.14 (Day 150)

2151.124.01 (Day 164)

2151.125.10 (Day 165)

I'm officially being sent home. After 85 days adrift, an old transport intercepted my distress beacon and relayed it to the nearest outpost. Apparently the micrometeorite storm that took out my welding supplies was just the beginning of a band of debris that makes any sort of automated search impossible. Not only that, but the Commonwealth had their hands full with the repercussions of the loss of the Intron. They fully debriefed me on that, and then...well, I can't say anything more.

So they sent a series of search and rescue ships to try and find me. But by the time the Divine Sun managed to initiate contact, the coolant from the FTL engines had started to leak into the cockpit. I was a bit...shall we say, unhinged.

Since they couldn't use lidar to find me, they had to run patterns manually. This took days. By then, I'd thrown my food out an airlock in a delirious fit, and from the pictures they showed me, I'd drawn what can best be described as nonsense all over the walls. Apparently the air was thick with coolant, and they weren't sure if I was going to recover from it, as I was effectively not only poisoned, but starving myself out and stressing my kidneys and liver.

I admit, I'm a little embarrassed, but apparently I had zero shame in some of my conversations. But they wanted to keep my mind going as much as possible until they got to me. I can only imagine what some of those techs must have been thinking. What Sgt. Kirkpatrick and Dr. Jolan saw. Ugh. Oh well. The SS Well and Truly Fucked managed to keep me alive, albeit 80 pounds lighter, and short quite a bit of decency. I have to thank her for that, I suppose.

After all the debriefings and the psychological exams, they finally let me call Roan. He's waiting for me, back home, with a giant plate of Mujinan noodles. I cannot wait to be back home. The carrier Europa is bound for Noa and will be landing tomorrow. Roan will be there to meet me.

I feel like a bag of bones, but I'm grateful to be alive. I think, when I get home, I'm going to ask Roan to marry me. In a way, it was him that kept me going. I don't know if I'll stay in the fleet after this, but I'll need time to sort it out. And time to inhale plate after plate of noodles and pastries.

I'm still not sure how I'm going to explain to Roan about this "Fred" guy he's heard about.