Deferred Processing by Iscin

Jess McKelvie curses as he stumbles in the dark yet again. This time, he is nearly sent tumbling forwards and with him the not entirely inexpensive camera he is lugging around with him. Even if the flashlight he has was worth a damn, this wheat field is far too dense to see clearly beyond maybe two metres at best. In addition to tripping up over himself, Jess is beginning to grow tired of his bare arms getting thwacked at and scuffed by the wheat he is disturbing. No doubt his clothes are blemished from the abrasions too, though it is too dark for him to really notice. And all of this he is doing for just one damn establishing host in the field coming off of Eastwood Church.

Penultimately though this will be worth it. Jess is imagining the look on his classmates faces now. Once his secret project is done he is sure to receive inordinate praise and top marks in his film class. Always having been a fan of horror films, cheesy and otherwise, Jess' plan is to create something that mixes found footage and more traditional horror cinematography. The story itself is not exactly solid yet, but when he heard about the crop circles sometimes found out here and the view at night he knew he had to come and get the shot. There is enough room in his script for something to do with the location. Perhaps a landing site for some extraterrestrial invader. Although, that idea might be too cliche even for him.

Getting a good look around himself, Jess is thinking that this is as good a spot as any unless he wants to trespass even further. So he starts to clear as much of the immediate area as possible, taking broad swings his one arm covered in his jacket sleeve. It is actually impressive just how incompetent the student is. Fumbling in the dark for an establishing shot that will be difficult to even justify. As his arm begins to grow tired a person with a modicum of common sense might now start wondering if this is really how they want to spend their evening. But not for Jess, this is far too important in his own microcosm of artistic aspiration.

Now after having spent a good five or maybe it was ten minutes swinging wildly with one hand he begins to set up his camera. First the tripod, which he only manages by taking a small flashlight out and holding it in his mouth; the damn thing barely has any throw but is still enough for him to make out the screws and adjust the legs of the tripod. Finally, he takes out his camera and affixes it to the top of the tripod. After doing so, he is now baffled by the way that the damn thing is beginning to sink into the ground, causing it to sit unevenly. Oh well, if he is unable to level it just so he can fix it in post.

'Alright then.' Jess mumbles to himself and begins panning the camera, his eye fixed to the viewfinder. 'Lets see what we have.'

***

Rafe is not someone who has ever been considered capable of anything worthwhile. This is true stretching back to every friend and teacher he has had his whole life growing up in one of the larger coastline cities of the Shast. His incompetence at nearly all things were born of two things, the first being his inability to keep his attention on one thing for an extended period of time, and the second his unremitting apathy when it came to what he calls "the man's world". Specifically referring to the old man, his father Captain Gallin who with every passing year wonders all the more if Rafe truly is his son.

It had almost ended with disownment until almost a month ago Gallin had decided to do something radical with his son. Plucking him off the increasingly decadent beaches of their homeworld he drafted his own son into his crew. Told him that he will either do something of worth on their voyage or have all of his privileges stripped away when they return, and set their destination to survey a series of planets that just so happened to include the little known blue dot that Rafe's webbed feet are currently standing on.

The Lutrinae-like extraterrestrial is not completely unprepared before being granted permission to teleport down. Rafe is wearing one of the expedition suits. Made out of an intelligent biomimetic weave, the suit is maintaining a near perfect camouflage, from the entire electromagnetic spectrum through to vibrations his movements make in the atmosphere. Though far from being the only attribute of the suit it is plenty to make Rafe feel like a spectre walking along an alien world's soil. A lack of any sun or beach is already leading to a foul mood however which is slowly eating away at any nervousness he had before teleporting down.

An artificial intelligence built into the suit informs Rafe that there is a biological target of opportunity nearby. A member of the planet's only technological capable species that is alone in the nearby field of primitive crops. This is it, an opportunity to finally do something that his father might actually approve of for once. He moves with purpose, something that is completely atypically for Rafe. However, as he starts making out the shadowy figure of the ape something other than the frustration at one's paternal figure introduces itself into the otter's hazy mind: Fear.

What if the human is dangerous? Rafe recalls something about irradiating their own plane in the dossier that the ship AGI had prepared for him. These are violent and in many ways unpredictable creatures, who would much rather soon engage in a bloody war with an opposing tribe for finite resources than find some mutual ground by which they can make the most of their situation. Before approaching any nearer Rafe checks around his belt for a gun. All crew who are sent on assignments planetoid are equipped with a standard plasma pistol.

Wait. Where is my gun? The extraterrestrial makes a flurry of squeaking sounds that actually convey vulgar and by his native means uncouth language. Either he forgot to take a pistol from the armoury, something that is more than probable, or his father does not consider the boy mature enough to be so equipped, also more than likely. He sighs, whiskers twitching and tail thumping down the back of his legs with mild agitation.

So without a gun he is not going to be able to easily subdue the native. But then again there is more than one way to incapacitate a primitive. It takes Rafe all of two Earth minutes before he finds something suitably large and hard with which he can use as a blunt instrument. The rock is the size of an exceptionally large fruit, complete with a wet mossy textured surface that some of his crew mates might be connected about alien parasites dwelling within but to Rafe the thought of quarantine does not enter his head in the slightest.

Using both hands Rafe avails himself of his new equipment and begins talking his prey in what is almost a comedic fashion. He approaches the ape with careful footsteps, using his tail to balance himself as he wades through the field's bushels of wheat. Even with the suit masking his presence with technology that is borderline magic, the way that he is disturbing the omnipresent crops makes it easy for anyone observant to be able to track his movement. Although by no small amount of serendipity, his native target is preoccupied with something that he has set up on three legs.

Rafe is now only a couple steps away from his quarry. His whiskers and nose are twitching again, but this time with nervous expectations. Fingers and thumb strain as they grip tightly around the rock in both hands, lifting it up until the blunt instrument is hovering just above his own head and ready to bring down in a swinging action. He can feel his arms beginning to buckle under the strain of keeping the heavy object aloft as he waits just a moment longer as if deciding if he really wants to do this.

Suddenly the ape backs up from whatever it is they are examining and more as a reflex action Rafe brings the rock down. He closes his eyes as he feels the rock strike its target with a resounding thunk. The impact sounds nasty, but glanced off of, rather than strike directly along the intended target's head. Rafe opens his eyes again and sees that the native is now collapsed on the dark and dirty ground, still breathing, albeit with some red fluid now wetting one side of his scalp and face.

'Cool! Now to haul ass with you, little buddy.' Rafe says to the unconscious ape as he kneels down and starts assessing the best way to carry it with him.

CHAPTER TWO

Betwixt Suns

Jess comes around with a start. Kicking wildly with both legs he quickly becomes aware of his confinement in something like a man-sized capsule made of translucent perspex. The human writhes, twisting his torso so as to turn from one side to the other. Assessing his immediate environment Jess understands that he is trapped inside of the capsule, which in turn is elevated as if on an examination table inside of a room with a surprisingly high ceiling from which there are two open exits. However his ability to make sense of the situation is quickly stalled as he notices the two creatures that are staring at him.

What the fuck are they? He thinks to himself as he meets the gaze of what are in actuality not unlike something crossed between a Eurasian otter and a human. Bipedal, opposable thumbs, and clothed not unlike any human might be, albeit in a style that is subtly different from anything contemporary that Jess is aware of. The familiarity and alienness of their appearance are more alarming than comforting to him. And only now does he realise that he is dressed only in his birthday suit. Self-conscious of his indecency, the human tries to obscure the strange otter people from looking up the most sensitive parts of himself between his legs, but he knows that they must have already seen everything, seeing as they must be the ones who have placed him here.

'This must be some bad dream, that's all.' Jess tells himself as he rolls onto his back and stares straight up at nothing. 'None of this can be real.'

Closing his senses off to the surrounding oddities only makes him aware of a sharp throbbing sensation that has begun. Lifting one hand up to probe carefully at the side of his head Jess realises that he has suffered a brutal blow to his cranium. The gash it left has healed over but as the rest of him is waking up the pain is starting to intensify to the point of numbing the rest of his feeling. The injury can explain a concussion, but not a hallucination or delusion of this magnitude.

Now he can hear voices, or at least what he thinks are voices. Looking back to where the two odd otter people are they appear to be consulting with one another, whilst seemingly gesturing at thin air. As their mouthes move they make a series of squeaking sounds, interspersed with more guttural sounds that interject at maybe six or seven second intervals on average. These sounds penetrate the transparent, glass-like contained that Jess is trapped in and he quickly notices the almost cutely familiar noises they are making; though he is of course entirely bewildered at any meaning behind them.

Jess mentally kicks himself for allowing his gaze to linger as one of the two conversing now notice that the specimen has come around. Their attention quickly shifts back to the injured human, their conversation obviously turning to him. He continues to do his best in covering himself with one hand whilst the other nurses the side of his concussed head, but there is no pretending that he is not in an entirely compromise position here, trapped and struggling to keep his thoughts straight between the walls of pain.

He squirms all by himself as the two otter people step up alongside the cylindrical casket. They motion and articulate with their hands at things unseen to the human, but the results are far more obvious to him. Compartments built into the sealed contained slide open, and from them robotic appendages now begin to emerge. Though obviously mechanical and metal in nature, albeit with some sort of synthetic dermal padding around key areas for grip, these arms and manipulators are sleek and articulate to a wide degree of motion. Unable to keep them at bay, even if he were not already concerned with his modesty, the human is grabbed and handled by these appendages working as proxy for the two aliens.

The comparison to a lab rat is unavoidable for Jess as he is turned and tossed by the machines. His entire body suspended over the padded surface of what is his enclosed cell, whilst strange devices wave over him. Most of the diagnostic actions now being performed do not require anything by way of physical contact. However after the first minute of this Jess feels something press against the base of his back. That something now begins rolling up along his spine, feeling cool yet only pressing gently against him as it goes. He tries to strain his neck to look behind himself and can just make out some sort of spots being left behind as the machine tracks the length of his spine.

As the roller reaches his head one of the arms straightens him out and the roller continues all the way over his scalp. As it does so Jess can feel his hair being shifted subtly out of the way for whatever it is that the machine is doing to him. At this point, the human has forgotten all about his body being spread out, complete with his tackle dangling from between his legs. It is really quite something how any sense of modesty can quickly fade when presented with a starkly uncomfortable reality such as this one.

'...other one.' Jess' ears pick up something intelligible all of a sudden.

'But that was the one for vertebrates.' More actual words, English words, or maybe.

Still being suspended in midair by the artificial hands, Jess tries to twist and turn until he is looking from the transparent barrier and at his two captors. They are still talking, or squeaking, or whatever it is that they do to communicate, but now he can understand them. Even in his confused state Jess is more than capable of working out that whatever the roller-thing has done to him is now allowing him to actually understand the manner by which these things communicate. On some intrinsic, even instinctual level, he is even beginning to get lives from things he notices like the way that the creatures' rudder tails move; no doubt a key element of their body language.

'Hello.' Jess says with a parched throat. 'I can hear you.'

They stop and look directly at the human, their attention drawn away from whatever invisible controls they have been using to control the machine. One of them looks happy, perhaps pleased with themselves for having made this much progress. The other one, to his left, appears more passive, maybe still in thought about how they are going to proceed with processing a new sentient specimen. Jess is putting his situation together very quickly now, perhaps being assisted somehow by whatever they have just done to him. It is obvious that he has been abducted by some sort of extraterrestrials, it is obvious but then so many things truly are in life.

'So you can!' The pleased one says. 'We're very glad that you are still, umm, intact.'

He is lowered back down onto the slightly soft flat surface beneath him, the machine's appendages retreating back into alcoves. Jess goes back to awkwardly covering himself as he is now presented with a series of questions asked by one of his handlers, whilst the other is busy with something just out of view. The questions themselves are very general, about himself and other humans. To his own surprise Jess responds promptly and simply, even whilst battling his own suspension of disbelief and sense of modesty with his hands over his crotch again.

'Now we are going to open the quarantine pod. If you try to do anything violent or disobey a command there will be immediate consequences for your actions. Do you understand?' His handler says.

Jess nods, before realising that such a gesture might be misunderstood and vocalises his affirmation of the question. Satisfied that their protocols have been concluded by the pod's mostly automated machinery the two crewmen give the command and the casket hisses as the seals are broken. The human shifts uncomfortably, his hands still trying to cover his shame, as the lid slides down. He starts to shiver as he feels the marginally cooler air in the larger compartment make contact with his naked skin.

'Please exit the pod.' The more formal of the two commands.

'Uh, can I get some clothes first, please?'

'Now.' Even with the translator the threatening tone is perfectly conveyed.

***

'I this really the best you can do?' The captain sounds exhausted as opposed to any other emotion as he stares across his study at his problematic son. 'A single specimen you caught with a rock?'

'Well... y'know... I couldn't have stayed any longer without a weapon to defend myself, dude.' Rafe says, his eyes failing to connect with his father's.

'And what happened to your sidearm? Wait, never mind.' Gallin growls.

Gallin huffs and slumps back into his seat, the servos in it adjusting to compensate for the poor composure. With one hand, he tugs on the scraggly fur that he has been trying to let grow out from his chin, a feature that is considered dignified for males of his age in their culture. The action, however, is one that Rafe recognises as his father's way of showing just the mildest amount of positive emotion in regards to something. Maybe the newest junior member of the crew is capable of doing something right after all. At least it is enough for a second chance, or perhaps a third if anyone is really keeping score.

Before the captain can voice his actual reply to the young man, a notification comes through on the ship's internal comms. A display springs up from out of his desk, on it there is a report from the two crew members who have been processing their new biological specimen. Gallin murmurs to himself as he leans forward, studying the glyphs conveying everything that they have uncovered. At the corner of his eye, he notices his uncharacteristically perking up, atypically curious as to where this conversation was going and what his father has been interrupted by.

'It looks as though you did something right after all.' Gallin finally says, his eyes still affixed to the display.

'I did?' Rafe is even more incredulous about that than the captain.

'It's definitely sentient, and they even got the thrall assist to integrate with it.' Gallin pauses, his brown furred brow furrowed over in thought. 'This makes it your responsibility.'

'Huh? Wait. Woah.' Rafe starts to protest, his entire expression one of waking up to some sharp and unwanted truth.

'Enough!' Gallin slams his fist down onto his desk. 'This is not a conversation, do you understand?'

Rafe adjusts his head, brushing the hair out of his eyes, glances are the ceiling, before finally nodding in acquiescence. He is just going to have to swallow his pride and accept the way that things go from here on. By tradition, as well as law, any sentient that one of his kind manages to subdue promptly becomes the property of that citizen. Some civilisations see the practice as barbaric for obvious reasons, but to the shasti, they know that the position of any other sentient is best left in deference to their own obviously superior culture. It is enough to be noted that Rafe does not exactly agree with this policy, nor does he like the idea of being responsible for anything, let alone another life.

'Does this mean I get bigger quarters then?' Rafe asks with the smallest of smirks.

'Actually, yes it does. Now go collect your... what do they call themselves again?' The captain recalls the information and tries his best to replicate the phonetic sounds. 'Huooman.'

***

'So err, what's up?' Rafe solicits the slouching ape's attention with the least noncommittal question he can think of on the spot.

'Oh, hello!' Jess replies, turning his neck to see who just spoke to him, before now getting up onto his feet. 'Alright, I think. Still wonder if I'm dreaming I suppose.'

The colloquial and relaxed manner of his own speech comes as a surprise to Jess, but after having been proved and queried for the last fifteen minutes the human is just glad to have his old clothes back. Although he does not realise it, the two cremates who processed him also made sure to do some regenerative therapy due to his concussed and injured state when Rafe had brought the specimen aboard. Adapted to his physiology, the therapy has left everything from blood sugar to hormone levels are near optimum, and now that he is not stressed out under some ominous machinery he is beginning to feel the positive mental effects of the treatment.

'Yah, big shock, right? You dudes haven't even been out of your star system yet. Seems as if you're taking it well though man.' Rafe smiles as he comes face to face with the sentient he bashed with a rock no more than twelve hours ago. The shasti seems to be a bit taller than the human, but not by much, their species having similar height and builds with their bipedal form; Rafe has always been tall for his age.

'So are you the crew member they told me to wait for?' Jess asks, gesturing with his thumb back at the door that leads into the sterile processing room he was in.

Rafe makes an odd sound as he starts with a sharp intake of breath between grit teeth. His eyes wander, his hands begin to fidget and the cool hard decking of the floor feels as though it could burn through his uniform shoes, the sole mandatory item that he wears due to their function should artificial gravity be lost. The last thing that the self-judged free spirited Rafe Gallin wants to do right now is have to tell this innocent, wide-eyed, monkey man that his life as he knew it is now over. And worst of all that his future will be inextricably tied to who can only be described as the least responsible person on the entire ship; someone whose every fibre of his being is at odds with being here, just as much if differently from the human's own alienness.

'Yeeeeeah. I'm gonna be your guide dude!' Rafe finally says whilst putting on his best fake smile and surprised at his own sincerity.

'Cool, I've never been on a UFO before.'

'A what?' Rafe asks, unsure about the translation on that one.

'Never mind. Lead on, and take me to your leader' Jess says, pleased with the different kind of confusion this brings to the otter. 'Oh, what should I call you anyway?'

'Rafe is good, dude. Just Rafe.'

'Alright then, my name's Jess.'

CHAPTER THREE

Blueshift

Jess has lost track of the days that have passed. Even his own internal body clock has adjusted to the marginally different timekeeping that is kept on the interstellar vessel here. After having spent the first day becoming orientated to the vessel and many members of its crew, he has been given a uniform and even status, albeit on that is underneath his owner. Sitting along in the quarters that have been assigned for Rafe and his property, Jess has the porthole viewer switched on, the high-fidelity and three-dimensional projection allowing him to stare out into the infinite cosmic expanse as pinpoints of light flicker past.

A familiar tone reaches his ears and the human holds up his right hand, right on time to dismiss the prompt from the starship's interpersonal synthetic. Annoyingly, the computer is aware enough to understand that Jess is apathetic, but not self-aware enough to know that its presence is far from desired right now. He can, of course, go out and down to the recreational deck of the Intrepid. There are a great many amusements and more that even an alien like he can enjoy. But once he is there, he might be expected to engage in some shared communal activity. It was on the second day here that he learned just how liberated the shasti's attitude about sex has become, and what is expected of living property like Jess is.

It was a slow realisation really. With each passing moment, he was noticing the little things that began to clue him into what was really happening. Despite the obvious culpability, Jess still finds it hard to really blame Rafe, who has been nothing but apologetic and kind to him about the entire situation. Really, it does show what an oddity that the boyish otter is compared to the rest of the crew. There is an order, a decorum to how thin are done here. All very proper, all respectable in their own alien way. Unfortunately the never-ending advances for sexual relations with what his ostensibly Rafe's property has only resulted in Jess retreating to the otter's quarters here.

In all the time that the human has been sat, brooding and mulling over things, Rafe has finally come off his shift. The door chimes a split second before opening and the young shasti steps inside. His fingers are already tugging on his collar, the uniform always sitting uncomfortably for Rafe. His head of hair and fur look less than groomed and his eyes are weary. Nevertheless, at the moment he sees the human Rafe smiles and tries his best to project a facade of joy; it is the least he can do after trapping Jess out here between stars.

'Hey dude, what's with the bogus look?' Rafe says, already stripping off his jacket whilst walking to the alcove with the shower unit.

'Nothing.' Jess says. 'Just been cooped up in here all day.'

Everyday the shasti does this on clockwork. After a gruelling day doing some menial task as the ship's least responsible crewman, he comes back to his quarters dirty and sweaty. Paradoxically as the human's mood has deprecated since discovering the existence of extraterrestrial, his curiosity in watching Rafe undress and get into the shower each day has grown. Some more small talk is now being exchanged between them though Rafe is only half paying attention to the human's responses as he strips down to nothing but the soft brown fur of his toned body. Jess realises that he is leaning forward with hungry eyes and a boner that is poking against his belly. He tries to right himself as the otter starts to be showered in hot water, turning back to address the human as Rafe gets into the shower and a transparent forcefield comes on, trapping the water vapour that is now leashed with the hot water.

'Bro, I am maxed out. No way I could go on for another hour.' Rafe says as he stretches and contorts his body, making sure every inch of fur is becoming soaked with the cleaning and conditioner infused water.

'Sounds good to have something to do, though.' Jess counterpoints, his eyes never leaving his roommate and would be owner's wet body. There is something both fascinating and arousing to see a body that has all of the muscular definition of a human, with fur clinging to it with a wet sheen; in the right light it almost looks as if Rafe is wearing some sort of bodysuit.

'Come on man. You can't ride the man's bogus culture.' Rafe says with only the slightest undercurrent of actual offence. Just like the stereotype back on Earth, the only thing that really gets on this surfer's bad side is the notion of a career, especially one he has no say about.

'I dunno.' Jess mumbles, his eyes still wide. 'There just isn't much for me to do...'

***

The water cuts off abruptly and Rafe can still feel the alien's eyes on him. The attention is summoning a conflict of desires and fears from deep within. It is natural, expected even, among his people to have ample sexual relations, whoever and whenever possible, with whoever you legally can. Seeing as Jess McKelvie is the shasti's property, well that is more than a legal right. It is also worth mentioning that Rafe has had some trouble finding any consensual partners among the ship's crew, not that he finds automatons all that enticing. Male or female does not matter to him, only that they have an independent spirit of their own. Of the many things he dislikes about the manner in which his society operates is the non-consensual aspect of it sometimes, especially with captured thralls.

Suddenly the dryers turn on, a dozen different nozzles articulating to blast Rafe's fur from every angle. The forcefield is remaining on for now, preventing any water from flying into the quarters themselves, yet maintaining a crystal clear view. So Rafe starts to rotate, lifting his arms, spreading his legs, and generally wriggling around so as to get every part of himself dried off. In doing so, he has also semi-intentionally presenting a show for Jess. This is not the first time Jess has had the opportunity to watch the shasti and despite the human's obvious prudeness indicative of his species and culture, Rafe has noticed the human becoming more and more curious right up until right now where he is simply staring.

After a moment of that Rafe dismisses the dryers, only a mild wetness underneath his webbed feet remaining as the forcefield disengages and he steps out. He is taller, leaner and definitely far more hairy than the human he has become inextricably tied to. However, there is one thing that remains shockingly similar between the two if a little more pronounced than what he has spied poking up against the ape's belly. What happens next is fluid, natural and completely spontaneous. As the shasti simply stands in front of the seated alien, wearing nothing but his own freshly dried brown fur, legs slightly apart and arms akimbo.

'Can I?' Jess' voice is almost a squeak, meek and only containing the smallest hint of certainty. Rafe inclines his head down, a wide grin on his face as the human's arm is already extending out.

'Bro, you are clearly amped up for it.' Rafe says jovially, but Jess is ignoring the playfulness.

The first thing that Rafe notices is the oddness of feeling the ape's smooth fingers against him. No claws and no fur means that they are almost synthetic from his perspective; perfectly suited for something like this. Of course, the otter's response is immediate, with his hips swinging forward gently whilst his limp dick begins to wake up, twitching against the smooth texture of the human's hand. Jess quickly gets the second hand around it too, nearer the base, as the organ rapidly begins swelling up, growing in size and turgidity at an eager rate. His eyes briefly dart up to see that Rafe is still smiling down at him, happy to let the human explore at his own pace. For someone who is now legally the property of this alien, Jess sure does feel empowered by his own agency as his fingers tighten around the engorging phallus.

What began at an impressive looking five inches, or twelve centimetres has now quickly become an imposing length of just over ten inches, or twenty-five centimetres, long. Large, but not impossibly so, Jess' sex life in high school and subsequent college life has allowed him to see only a couple others with similar proportions. He can feel his own far more average endowment achingly throb against his gut, though now the thought occurs to him, what if this size is average for the aliens here and some may be larger still? The human's mouth is salivating at this point, his expression one of perverse elation as Rafe takes a couple steps closer and Jess starts leaning forwards, tongue extending.

'Go on little dude.' Rafe says just as the human's tongue reaches the end of his phallus.

It familiar, yet different. Although ostensibly much like the kind of male genitalia that Jess is familiar with, there are subtle variations. To start off with he swears the entire surface of the organ, certainly that around the head and glans, possess a strange slightly rough yet slippery, almost as if mucus-covered, texture. Getting his lips wrapped around the now pulsating head, Jess can feel the alien's member change in friction with every heartbeat. Even the loins dangling between Rafe's legs are of a notably different configuration, possessing a more irregular shape as Jess' move one of his hands further along, enclosing his fingers around one oval and now attempting to grasp the other too.

However, the most startling surprise is yet to come. A series of encouraging sounds are made by the shasti as Jess starts gobbling down as much of the extraterrestrial extension as he can. His eyelids are closing in a sultry expression of enjoyment at getting his lips around the male's phallus until suddenly it moves. Eyes now snapping wide, Jess makes a muffled yelp of surprise and tries to get the otter's attention. However, Rafe has now passed the point of return. At this stage, an aroused shasti simply needs to get off any way he can. This much quickly becomes evident to the human as both of Rafe's hands come around the other male's head.

'Oh, fuck!' Rafe hisses and starts yanking Jess' head forwards, determined to make the human wear balls on his chin.

Jess falls off the edge of the bunk bed, his knees hitting the panelled floor with a nasty sounding thunk. His eyes are watering now as he is forced to choke down the alien cock. Of course, he is trying to keep his cool, not panic or heaven forbid bite down, but it is nearly impossible to keep up with Rafe. The motions are sharp and deep as with both hands tightly gripping both sides of the ape's head, the otter uses his thrall as was meant to be. Back and forth, faster and faster they go. With every journey back away from the shasti's furry crotch Jess tries to get as much air through his nostrils as possible, before coming back down until he can feel Rafe's cock being pushed down the back of his throat.

Most alarmingly of all is Jess' last discovery of the extraterrestrial's physiology. Not unlike certain terrestrial aquatic mammals, these interstellar travelling otters have the impressive evolutionary adaptation of prehensile penises. What once probably served as a means of assisting insemination in moments of underwater procreation is now being employed to wriggle and explore the cavities and depths of Jess' mouth and throat. It is disturbing to the say the least as, along with the unusual pseudo-friction texture and the exotic olfactory and gustatory sensations, he is subjected to the disconcerting sensation of something this alive moving around inside of him. Even so, his mind inexorably wanders to the thought of feeling this thing somewhere else inside of him and what that might be like.

'Surfs... ugh... UP!'

It comes as sudden as anything else. The pent-up nature of his captor is clear from the manner by which he has been skull fucking the primate through to what now occurs as nothing short of a grand facial finale. Beginning with the initial eruption pouring out into his mouth Jess' body responds more by instinct than any reasoned action. His eyes shut, his nostrils flare as shasti spunk is flung up his sinuses, some is swallowed, most simply pools and now gushes out as he tries to push back with both hands against the otter's thigh. For his part, Rafe may as well be in nirvana. Rolling his head back and crying out loudly as what has now been months of frustration is being ejected, at force, into his incidental victim's mouth.

On the fourth, or maybe fifth forceful blast, Jess has now managed to gain clearance. Falling backwards though he is given another volley and now yet another, each hitting him clear across the face, splattering in all directions and indeed splashing back against what is now a once more filthy otter. Jess continues falling backwards, his clothes now drenched in sweat and unmentionable juices, his arms spread eagle to brace himself as he hits the bunk bed. Rafe now has both hands around his member, jerking it off in an instinctually desperate manner, trying to tame the dragon that has been awoken. The human watches on in amazement, blinking only when a stray shot manages to land on his torso or face.

***

One shower each later and Rafe has finally calmed to the point where he is feeling sorry, or perhaps just embarrassed. It had been so long, too long, and the human was just so curious and surprisingly willing considering what the xeno-cultural analysis had been of their society. But most of all he was cute. It is impossible for Rafe to avoid that what began as the guilt of taking the human away from his home has been slowly turning into something deeper and stranger after only a few days. Yet how to express this? What to say to someone like this? Let alone an alien.

As for Jess, well it has been a unique experience to say the least. The shock of how Rafe went ballistic actually scared his own arousal down, his brain unable to process what had just occurred. Yet it was not unpleasant, bare for the breathing problems and what is now a fairly sore jaw from keeping it strained open for so long. He is now nursing it a bit, though always moving his hand away whenever he catches Rafe looking over, not wanting to exacerbate the already guilty conscious that the otter is figuratively wearing on his sleeve.

They are both sat on the bottom bunk now, in new clothes after the room's cleaning protocol has cleared their mess. The oppressive silence in the cramped room matches the void that Jess was admiring only moments ago. Rafe closes his eyes, cringing inside. However, he reopens them as he feels something brushing against his lap and torso. To his surprise the human has snuggled up on his lap, arms around the otter. Even with the cultural and biological barrier between them Rafe understands when he is being shown affection.

'Really?' He says.

'Sure, why not? There is a long way to go, right?'

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