First Contact by BigLutris

First Contact

This is a bit longer, 50 pages actually. It is also the beginning of something. I am still working on it, but I just couldn't wait to publish this and after 12 chapters was a good point in the narrative.

Prepare for space-faring Otters and some delightful surprises.

Please tell me what you think in comments. Does it need more sex, less sex? More pace, less pace ... stuff like that.

Enjoy and thanks!

Properly formatted version on FA.

First Contact

By BigLutris

War never changes.

Who said that?

You hop out of the cargo-craft, tightly gripping your rifle, pressing it against your chest almost desperately, like a stuffed animal that reminds you of home.

You scan your surroundings, bleak. Bleak, red, dusty, unwelcoming, dry.

Some old long dead military dude probably. Has lived for 60 years and thought he?s oh so clever. War never changes. My ass.

The light is weird here. It seems dirty - dusty. But that is probably just the air. Is it called air? Here? Or is only the stuff that you left behind you years ago when they propelled you off of Earth called air? Sweet, sweet oxygen, deadly and invigorating at the same time. Here it is called a mixture of gasses. An atmosphere. This ... pus coloured shit doesn?t deserve to be called air.

Put a Marine in a million dollar plastic bag and shoot him into space and call it war. Bamm.

The sun - no, the central star of this system, emits light of a different spectrum than the sun. Way higher wave-lengths. There is no blue here. No green. This is pretty much anti-earth.

And you are fighting an anti-war. Just your luck.

Other units on a mission like yours are by now probably swimming in a sea of tits, drinking the jizz of gods or some shit on another planet.

It is kinda funny really, all those words: Sun, Air, Earth, Star ... Ancient words for the thing in a tiny little world. I am standing on the earth, breathing the air, letting the sun warm me.

War never changes. But everything has changed. There is not one thing left that is the thing. If he?d see all this, even just hear about it, Plato would probably implode and create a tiny Greek singularity of paradox.

The earth is a rock among rocks, the sun is a gas-ball among gas-balls, the air is an atmosphere among atmospheres. And war .... is your own little approach to solve a problem that you can?t solve among other peoples? approaches to solve their problems.

You came flying, invading THEIR space, they shot some metaphorical stones at you, and voila, war. This is so fucking stupid. You are at "war" but you don?t want to. No one considers this planet a threat. And "Earth" doesn?t want to threaten anyone, but still, because YOU invaded and now YOU have to peace-talk and negotiate, YOU are at war.

There is probably some metaphorical, philosophical meaning behind that quote. War never changes. The desperation, the killing, the suffering. Those things. Not the hitting each other with rocks or whatever they did for war back then.

Are you suffering?

Well to be fair, not really. It is really annoying that you are here. The dick-hole of the known universe. The air is annoying, the light is annoying, the colours are annoying. Hell, yes, you are annoyed. But suffering? Nah.

You are not even uncomfortable. Your gear has been perfectly tailored to fit your body. High tech materials make sure that a little weight gain or loss are met with a little tightening or loosening to assure a perfect fit at all times. Your combat boots fit like a pair of snake-leather gloves for your hind-paws and you don?t even really feel your helmet, that?s how light it is.

Is there going to be suffering in the future? You highly doubt it. Your rifle will make sure you?re not being killed by weird-ass wild-life, nothing else. You don?t fight a "war" against living rocks or whatever inhabits this shit-hole of a planet. You fight a "war" against people, against an opponent. People back then seemed to take pride from that little fact.

Back in the academy they taught you about war. About the great naval wars, about the world wars, about the regional wars, the water-wars .... But for the last couple of decades there haven't been any wars that actually involved killing others for something they had and others wanted. Yay progress, yay technology. There was one guy in history who got it right: Juvenal.

Panem et circenses.

When was that? 3000 years ago? 4000? Doesn?t matter. You?re all just a piss in the stream of time and all that remains is your words. If you are lucky,

Give „em bread and play and everyone is happy. And war degenerates to playing fetch. And everyone is still calling it war when all it really is, is an offer of bread and an invitation to play the game.

War has changed.

You don?t need to turn around to make sure that Charles Arlington, your brother in arms and Seneca Salazar, your ambassador, are still just a few steps behind you. Sound travels well in this foggy, syrupy (yes just fucking call it air, no need to be over-scientific about this shit) air.

Briskly you stride forward, the easy gait of years of training (walking is oh so important in the military-training) carry you forwards step by big step. The fact that this particular rock in space is a little smaller than your own rock in space certainly helps. It isn?t far anyway; you don?t even have to check your wrist-band. You got dropped of, been told: "Walk about a mile uphill in that there direction and there you?ll be picked up", end of briefing a nod, bye and good luck.

Your "mission" isn?t too complicated anyway. Make contact, settle in, watch, learn, report, and distribute invitations to the great galactic buffet of bread and games. They could have just sent a fancy letter with a R.S.V.P. really. But you guess a little squad of Earth?s finest makes a better impression.

Crunch-crunch your steps go. Shine-shine the sun goes breath-breath your companions go.

Gah this is annoying. Why are you so annoyed? Because everything here LOOKS annoying. You are a fucking Otter for shit?s sake. And they send you here to a planet that looks like it has been sucked dry millennia ago. You know you shouldn't judge an entire planet by your drop off

zone but a) from space you also haven?t seen any oceans or even a lake and b) once a planet fucks up with the first impression, it is hard to shake that off. It is like with people really.

Fucking species equality. It doesn?t even make sense. You wouldn?t make a Cow climb a tree, why would you send an Otter into the desert? At least you are not alone with this fate. What was brass thinking sending not ONE but TWO otters out here? You look at Charles? (or Chuckles?) towering form and feel as sorry for him as you are feeling for yourself right now. He?s a river otter though and a bit more used to land in general than you are as a sea-otter. Yes, you?re definitely off worse here ....

You stop. You close your eyes. You take a deep breath. Gotta calm yourself down. No use working yourself up about all this. You can?t change it anyway.

Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, - breath in

Courage to change the things I can, - breath out

And wisdom to know the difference. - breath in, open eyes.

Alright, that seems to have worked.

Charles swats you on the shoulder and looks at you with questioning eyes.

"You alright? Or your soft little paws hurting already, sea-doggie?" - he teases you.

You bare your fangs in a little grin and give a short little nod, tilting your head upwards, "Sure am, you river-dog. Just a bit pissed off about us getting dumped here and not on Disneyplanet or something. Stopped for a second there to calm myself down a bit. I don?t want our surly gracious hosts to see how much I already hate their little shit-pebble. Wouldn?t be too grand for the mission."

Your burly team-mate gives a short bellowing laugh and pats your shoulder again: "Sure know what you mean mate. We?re almost there."

Seneca just rolls his eyes at your little bantering. He is smiling though, used to your teasing exchanges.

You look at the ambassador and asks: "Anything we should talk about before we meet our new best friends, Sir?"

Seneca just shakes his head and smiles: "Nah not really. Mission is easy and will probs take at the very least a few weeks. No use playing something, just be our ever charming selves and tell them what we have to offer. No one has ever kicked any of us out with a never-come-back-or-else threat. How I see it, we?re off of here and on our way back or to the next planet within a month and they?ll be rubbing their little dicks or what they have here over the contracts."

You nod. Can?t argue with that. Or him. He is, after all, your authorised officer and in charge of the bargaining (offering) proper. You other two are mere decorum and muscle to show around.

"Alrighty-fucking-ho then. Let?s get moving. We should be at the rendezvous in about," you check your wristband, "10 minutes."

You look at each other in silent agreement and understanding, give a curt nod and trod on.

The little mantra and the talk have indeed lifted your spirits. Most things are not all bad or all good. One thing that is certainly fun about this planet is the lower gravity. You find yourself leaping forward every now and again, practically flying through the air. That is fun and by the

time you spot a little tent in the distance you are wearing an easy smile and breathe a bit heavier from your antics. When what is apparently the temporary dwelling of your welcoming committee comes into view you compose yourself and smile at your companions.

All of you put on an official air and put a bit more sobriety in your step. You fall back a bit to let Seneca take the lead. He?s going to be the one doing all the official greeting and the big words. Your job is to survey with military training and make sure that there?ll be no nasty surprises. Safety first.

A few more steps carry your close enough to make out the first details of the luxuriously looking tent made of cream coloured ... stuff. It doesn?t seem woven, or made of plastic. More like a liquid solidified. Or ... actually flowing in place. It looks really neat. The tent is not huge but big enough to house around 20 people you guess. It also does seem to be compartmentalised. You can see two beams poking through the strange fabric, a little sagging in the roof telling you of a wall hanging from the ceiling about half way back.

Five persons are standing in front of the tent; obviously they have already spotted your approach and are now awaiting your arrival. That means, at least 15 more could be hiding in that tent. You do not turn off the safety of your rife, but you make sure it is within easy reach. Out of the corner of your eyes you see Chuckles do the same.

Another step and you almost start laughing with relaxation.

You are now close enough to identify the five persons standing in front of the pop-up housing and what makes you way more relaxed is the fact that they are actually naked.

What the actual fuck? You have been briefed about the civilisation you were about to meet and you have been told that it a semi-advanced civilisation with culture, infrastructure and you assumed culture involved, well, clothes. Why are these people not wearing a single scrap of fabric or armour or anything on them?

You try not to stare but for obvious reasons it is pretty hard not to. And by staring you make yourself feel more and more uncomfortable. You are wearing full combat gear with muzzle-obscuring helmet, impressive combat jacket with visually enhancing armor plating, combat trousers and boots. And they are naked. It does seem kinda unfair.

Apart from all that though you can?t help but notice how incredibly sexy those five are. They are humanoids with two arms, two legs, torso and whatnot. They are way taller than any of you are. Must also be a side effect of the rather low gravity here. Overall they are very, very lean. Not a gram of fat softens the wiry musculature under their ... slick? ... how odd in dry surroundings like these ... skin. Said skin is like a mix of snake and frog. You strain your eyes but can?t really make out scales but yet it isn?t as smooth and slimy-wet as frog?s. It seems to have not scales but a scaly pattern. It?s colour is somewhere between gray and blue. The first hue of blue that you see since you have been dropped off on this dry rock. Weird.

Speaking of musculature, it is impressive. Not bodybuilder, gene-modded impressive but naturally, hard working, lean and fat-free impressive. All of them look as if they could stand still for hours on end and still strike fast and precise in the exact right moment. This new species would make a formidable addition to the exploratory forces. But no need to get ahead of

yourself here, you haven?t even talked to them. Maybe they?re incredibly dumb. Or have weird voices.

Also, they are naked and where does one look when one sees a naked person? Of course, the junk, checking out the goodies. That is what you do now obviously. Or .. try to. There is no junk. Where their legs meet their torsos there is nothing but more smooth skin. You furrow your brows in confusion, how do they fuck? Or ... you know, have babies (not as important to actually have them as to make them you think). Suddenly it dawns on you, they must have genital slits like snakes. Would make sense, judging from their skin. So snake like people. If they have two dicks? That would be exciting.

You let your eyes wander upwards again towards their heads and faces. They look nothing like snakes though. They do have a neck, like you or the next otter, a head and ears, and some more ears and ... wow, six ears in total. Two vertical rows of three on each side of their round heads. Their eyes are impressive as well. They are pretty big, taking up almost half of their faces. They don?t have irises but instead seem to have insectile eyes, but not so many facets. The individual facets are so big that you can count them ... yup, 6 in each eye. They have no protruding muzzle or nose, just ... again, 6 tiny holes, two vertical rows of three, as nose below their eyes. Their mouths seem to be segmented. You see not the one horizontal line that marks the usual closed mouth but two, crossed like an X. You imagine you?ll see four "lips" open once they speak.

All five of them appear to be of the same sex; at least you can?t see any signs of gender dimorphism on those five. You can?t even say if they are male or female. If your theory of their resemblance to snakes is correct, they would not be mammals and therefore not have breasts. You rack your brain .... do you know of any mammals with facet eyes?

Suddenly there is movement and you stiffen up a bit, your military training interrupting your biological musings.

One of them has stepped forward and now extends his arms towards you in what you assume to be a welcoming gesture. His hands have three digits each (six seems to be a very popular number here) evenly distributed along rather big, round palms. You may or may not be proud of your opposable thumb, these guys seem to be able to oppose each of their digits.

His (he doesn?t have tits so you have help yourself but think of all five of them as "he" although you really don?t know - always hard with non-mammals) palms point downwards, towards the ground in what seems like a blessing gesture. Now he sweeps them upwards in an arching gesture, bringing them towards his mouth.

"I drink your presence as I drink" - beep - the bud in your ear that translates his raspy huffing and clicking which is obviously his language seems to struggle a bit with the last word and after a few seconds settles with: - beep - "what gives me life."

Seneca sticks to his training and does not try to imitate the gesture. He does however also spread his arms out a bit, his palms open to the ground (not the sky as you would do at home, the ground seems to be more revered here) and bows.

"I greet you and thank you for accepting us on your territory. We come in peace and swear to abide by your rules and regulations, your customs and we swear not to harm or let harm come to you and or to your world and or anything on it."

Nothing happens for a bit while your ambassador straightens himself up again and smiles at his counterpart with closed lips (never show teeth!).

After a few seconds it becomes obvious that the big alien (well technically, YOU are the alien) does not have a handy little computer around his wrist.

Does he look annoyed? Of course since first contact communication has been abundant, and you got your computers to wrap their wiry heads around their language pretty quickly. Because of the computers though, no one actually bothered to learn that language. Big faux pas as it turns out.

Seneca realises this as well of course. Other than you though, he is not at a loss but immediately starts removing his own wrist-band. With his left arm held firmly in the obviously not threatening greeting position learned earlier he removes his helmet and just lets it fall to the ground. He removes the little bud from his fuzzy ear to add it to the wrist-band and hold out the little bundle to the ambassador.

Holy shit. Removing his head armour without so much as a second though is gutsy, even here. You can?t help but look at the smaller Raccoon with an approving glance.

After only a few seconds of hesitation the tall alien accepts the offer and looks at the little bud, apparently trying to decide what to do with it. It is a little gross to put something in your ear that someone else just pulled out of his ear. But he is just as professional as your ambassador and pops it into one of his ear holes. You just hope he?ll be able to remove it again.

Something dawns on you and you kick Chuckles against the calf. He looks at you with big eyes and your eyes motion towards his wrist-band (these things are commonly referred to as MoCo by the way). He looks at you with big eyes and knitted brows as if to ask "Why me though?"

You look into his eyes. You look at his MoCo. You look at Seneca. And repeat.

You?re equals but you caught up faster than him this time, so tough titties for him. With an almost audible sigh he gives in and removes his own computer to hand it to Seneca. Who expected nothing less and accepts it without so much as turning around.

As soon as both ambassadors are properly equipped Seneca repeats his gesture and his words:

The other?s eyes widen a bit in shock, obviously amazed but the technological feat of the raccoon?s words suddenly making sense in his head.

An approving smile parts his insectile mouth and you were right, it parts four-ways.

"We thank you for this gift and accept it, humbled deeply." - Wait, what? Gift? Dangit, you make a mental note to radio for some replacements and more "gifts" to be dropped off. Until then Chuckles will have to live with you as old fashioned interpreter.

"Please be so kind as to follow us inside to repay you in kind and make you acquainted with today?s schedule and the arrangements for the coming time. We have been informed that you will be staying with us until we have reached or agreed on failing to reach an agreement. Is that correct?"

"Yes, we are scheduled to stay here as long as you will be so gracious as to grant us hospitality."

You close your eyes and roll them behind closed lids. If this high and mighty sweet talk will continue for the rest of the day, this will be a long, exhausting one. We give you shit, you give us shit. Deal, no deal?

Why make such a fuss about it?

When you open your eyes you only see the muscular backs of your welcoming committee. Seems you?re headed inside now.

Charles and you follow the ambassadors and the alien entourage inside the tent. In passing the entrance you can?t help but marvel at the stuff it is made of again. Even this close you can?t say what it is, it looks like a liquid but that can?t be. You?d really like to touch it. You don?t though. Yet. Wouldn?t feel anything anyway through your gloves.

You are so happy to finally crash on the bed in the quarters that have been assigned to you. What. a. Day!

Of course your fear from earlier today has blossomed and bloomed into full reality. The whole day has been filled with official meet and greets, speeches, polite conversations that have been dragged to agonizing lengths because there was only one MoCo for everyone to share. You are really, really bad at stuff like this. If they don?t drop off additional MoCos soon, you might as well start a full blown war all by yourself because you just lose your patience and yell at some princess or other.

Apart from that this place is pretty amazing though, you have to admit. Talking about first impressions. This is easily countered by another saying: "Don?t judge a book by it?s cover" - or a planet by it?s crust.

Due to the comparatively small size of this planet, naturally the atmosphere is rather thin. This in addition to the fact that the habitable zone of this system is closer to the central star (also due

to being smaller than your sun) results in high concentrations of radiation on the surface, making it not outright toxic but unsuitable to support complex forms of life. Some sorts of bugs and lichen-like plants and bigger bugs that eat either or both of the above live there, not much else.

The real party has evolved in the deep caves of this apparently almost porous planet. There is water here aplenty, positively underground oceans, rivers, lakes all the stuff that earth has on the surface.

Light is not as plentiful but there is enough bio- and geo-luminescence to let you and your little squad take in your surroundings with just a little more strain than in broad daylight at home. It is a bit like perpetual dusk. This impression is enhanced by the fact that the bioluminescence here is not as dull as on earth, where you usually have one or two fish glowing blue-ish and a bug that glows green. Here you have all kind of colours, mostly though in the yellow-red spectrum. Everything together creates soft, pleasing light like an early sunset.

This form of illumination also accounts for the structure of your host?s eyes. They need bigger eyes than you lot because there is just a little less light to go around.

The sight you beheld when you descended with the cleverly constructed elevator that tent was actually erected to protect, was more than breathtaking. You might not want to admit it, even to yourself, but you certainly did tear up a bit. It was just so beautiful. Surely the elevator had been build in that exact spot to elicit this kind of reaction.

When you stepped out of the rustic contraption you found yourself standing on a plateau overlooking a valley of perfect harmony between habitation and nature.

A stream so clear you could see the bottom of it from your elevated point of view flows at the bottom of the huge ... and I mean huuuuge cave. It supports all kind of plant life along it?s banks. You see fields of green, red rose-like brushes too. The most impressive and also surprising though are the mammoth trees dotted around the underground landscape, grass licking their huge trunks.

They do look kinda weird, wet, like they are covered in some sort of slime instead of bark but this isn?t earth. Of course you can?t expect things here to be the same, even if it looks similar. Maybe this isn?t even trees but ... hell, some sort of cow. Although that would be a bit cruel because your hosts seem to be living in and atop those trees. Long, wobbly looking bridges connect the trees and you spot window-like holes in the weeping trunks as well as huts atop their massive branches, the accommodations cleverly woven into the living tree.

Your assigned guide also informed you why his people were living high up and not, what definitely seems easier, on the ground: The fluffy and innocent looking grass that covers pretty much every even surface of the cave is somewhat poisonous to his species. Not agonizing death poisonous but enough to give them a hefty itch. Apparently the people here and this particular piece of vegetation are fighting an evolutionary battle for as long as both exist on this planet. At this point they got their skin, secreting a constant layer of very fine, almost watery, slime and the grass got stronger poison. It does apparently make a good, invigorating and popular tea if

prepared correctly. You asked why they didn?t just remove all the grass but that only earned you a confused glance and a hushed, clicking conversation with one of his colleagues. Maybe another glitch in the translator.

Like with the name of their race. Your MoCo keeps calling them "people" when they refer to their species. It is not wrong of course. After all you don?t call yourself an earthling either and calling them MK-6879 IIians also doesn?t really make sense.

As you look up at the ceiling in your comfy room, your paws behind your head you ponder this particular question for a bit. What should you call them?

When your MoCo doesn?t do the talking for you, you have to make up your own words.

Your science people only referred to them as "inhabitants of MK-6879 II". Not really catchy when you think things like "Fuck, look at the pecs on that MK-6879 IIian". The mystery about their genders also yet remains unsolved. You have so far only encountered individuals that you would identify as male. That doesn?t really make sense though, even in a highly patriarchal society. You have seen "workers" and those also were "male". So the only explanation really is, that there is no visual gender dimorphism here or that they don?t have genders and are like ... bacteria. Big sexy bacteria. You sigh and a slow smile creeps on your soft muzzle. These people DO look good. Despite their lack of genitalia. There does not seem to be any fat on this planet. There are people who are more or less muscular but no one here has under-skin fat that hides the musculature in other species, and they are tall. So tall and big and broad and .... fuck dammit, that did it. The tip of your red, drooling cock peeks out of your sheath. You got to be really careful with what you think about here.

Ah yes, this really will take some getting used to: being naked all the time.

Very soon after you entered the tent, relaxing a bit and letting Seneca do all the work, you recline into the seats offered to you, sipping tea and just surveying your surroundings.

Thinking of it, it is actually truly amazing what you are experiencing today and will be experiencing in the weeks to come. Even though you certainly are not first contact, you are first physical contact. You are part of a small group chosen to meet a species for the first time. Since this entire planet-rush thing started a few decades back it has become somewhat of a bureaucratic act but it is your first time and you can?t help being thrilled. No person, no living thing from earth, from literally light years away, has ever laid eyes on these people, these stupid glorious rocks outside. Never has this sun shone on someone like you.

Awash in this feeling you are neither capable nor willing to pay any attention to the conversation between Seneca and the other ambassador.

You are happy and content to just sit here and sip your tea and enjoy the feeling of being special, of being chosen. You certainly are being very unprofessional right now. Your job is to make sure that nothing bad happens to your ambassador or your group. Right now you couldn?t care less if anything happened. You are sitting in a tent on another fucking planet. If you die right now you will have achieved something that billions before you and billions right now have not achieved and will never achieve.

All you do is look at things. Look at everything around you as if the meanest cup were the most special thing in the entire universe. And in a sense it is. What an amazing feat is it to make a cup. To think of a cup, to grasp the concept of a cup, to dream of a cup and then make one. Take something from around you and make it into something other? Transforming a mundane piece of mud into something that you can use, that makes your life easier. And what makes it even more amazing that there is a cup here. In your paw, a cup that has been dreamed of and made out of mud or whatever they use here to make cups, fucking LIGHTyears, thousands, even millions of parsecs away from the mug you had your last cup of coffee from on earth from.

And if you don?t think this fucking cup is the tightest shit in the universe, get out of my fucking face.

Ok. You?re getting all worked up again. Focus. You?ve got a job to do and that job is not to jizz all over the place over a fucking mug.

Your job is right now standing right in front of you, giving you the stink-eye. He probably just said something that you didn?t get over your mug-hype.

You straighten yourself up a bit and grin at Seneca apologetically.

"Sorry boss. What? Was a bit distracted by ..." you don?t know how to finish that sentence and just meekly sweep your paw, indicating the room, the people, and this whole planet.

At this the ambassador?s stern glance softens a bit.

"I get it. This is neither easy nor standard training. I understand that nothing can prepare you for this properly. First time I made contact I nearly shat myself. But. Stay with us here, ok? I do believe we are safe here, I am very sure that this is going to be a proper old fashioned and civilised trade agreement. I still need both of you at least kind of focused. This is alien territory and we have no idea what might happen the next second.

Anyway. I need to talk to you two."

Chuckles had been listening, although he also wears the dreamy expression of someone who had just woken up.

"You probably have noticed that those guys are naked and we are not," he grins.

The two of you nod.

"Apparently clothing is a very alien concept here, and I do get the impression that we are being politely held up up here, because they think we have something to hide or ... that this is some sort of disguise. They don?t believe we are what we seem to be on the outside or somesuch.

I am saying up here because apparently our destination and quarters are below ground. And even though everything has gone smoothly enough I am being stalled and we are talking about nothing for at least 30 minutes now."

Your brows furrow a bit as you realise where this is headed: "So I guess you want us to get naked?"

Seneca smiles at you, almost grinning, "I know that again is far from standard training but as I said, I do believe we are safe with these people and I really want to move this along. I know I am asking much but at the moment that is what I do, asking. I don?t want to make this an order.

I have asked our hosts for a little break to step outside and prepare „the next step to further our mutual beneficial relationship? - which means us getting naked and hopefully moving on. Or just making complete asses of ourselves."

He smirks.

"But I wouldn?t have been sent here if I happened to be wrong about these things."

Ooooooook. This is weird. Fair you guess, but weird. This is not only not standard training but pretty much against everything they tell you the first day at academy. Hey, your enemy wants you to get rid of your armour? Fuck yes, get naked and stand there with your dicks hanging out.

Unsure about what to do you look at your buddy.

He just shrugs and says: "You know he could make it an order. And to be honest, I don?t really get bad vibes. These people seem pretty lame, just like our bureaucrats", his mouth snaps shut and he looks at Seneca with an almost fearful glance.

He just laughs and motions him to go on with his paw.

After clearing his throat Charles continues: "Anyway, I think it is safe enough and even though we seem to be packing a bit more than these guys you still have your sheath to keep your decency. Just think about big wobbly boobs if you are afraid of getting hard." He winks at you.

Rolling your eyes at this jibe you look first at Seneca and then Charles and then Seneca again. You shrug.

"Well then, I can?t say I like it but if you think it will help the mission and move things along, I am your obedient soldier. Let?s get nekkid."

With this said the three of you step outside the tent into the mildly irritating glare of the alien sun.

It actually is pretty hard work to remove standard intergalactic combat armour and sure enough it leaves all of you panting after just a few minutes. Piece after piece of heavy combat gear drops into the grainy ochre dust but it takes you full 10 minutes to get fully undressed.

You feel a bit awkward around the other two. Being a trained soldier (and a cock-hungry power bottom, but that is beside the point right now) it of course is not the first thing that you are naked around other guys. Still it is awkward, Chuckles is your buddy, your bro, your friend and Seneca, while technically not your superior, is a few ranks above you.

You look at them, holding your gear in front of your sheath.

Not bad at all what you see. Charles has been hitting the gym hard on the way here. He probably ate just a tiny bit too much as well, but it suits him. He looks heavy, massive. Knowing him for as long and as well as you do you are way past the point of being sexually attracted to him but you can clearly see why anyone would be.

He is a bit taller than you, standing at about 1.95m and everything about him seems round. His head is round, his muzzle is round, his ears are round, his shoulders are round, the massive bulge of his biceps is as round as a watermelon, and his heavy pecs are round, so filled with muscle that they seem almost to be sagging. He sports a small belly which is surely rock-hard but still a bit round. Bulgy, round muscles hug his legs, his calves are another pair of hard,

round watermelons. Even his paws are round. The whole frame is covered in slick, almost oily black fur that he keeps trimmed neatly. Probably to better show off his physique.

Seneca is pretty much the opposite of Charles.

He is smaller than you, around 1.75, and covered in striped fur, brown and white. He is slim, the muscles under his fur visible like ropes moving under a fluffy blanket. His elongated muzzle ends in a sharp little wet, black dot. He has long arms, a slender waist and long legs ending in slender paws with long toes. Where Charles has a nubby little tail, the ambassador sports a long, striped tail that never seems to stop moving.

Both of them seem confident enough to run around naked, neither of them even tries to hide their junk behind their armour as you do. You envy them a bit. They both are land born creatures, at home standing and running around on their legs, with or without clothing.

Doing all this, all this, including the military, the planet-rush, the oh so important walking has been hard work for you.

You are a Sea-Otter. Capital S, e. a. You were born in a pool, grew up in a house that had more waterways than actual floor, were captain of your swimming team. You even slept floating around in a pool of water. Land is hard work, standing is hard work. As confident and graceful as you feel diving deep into any lake or river as awkward you feel now. Your armour, your uniform has given you a confidence that you now suddenly lack. The confidence that you sought and that was given to you when you joined the interstellar forces has now literally been stripped off of you.

Chuckles knows that. Of course he can?t get all wooze feely right now and figuratively hold your paw through all this like he did back in academy, but he can and does slap your shoulder, smile at you reassuringly and say: "Get that gear away from your crotch and charm them with your big balls. If I can flaunt my equipment like this you?ll knock „em dead with yours." He doesn?t wait for a reply and just squares his shoulders and strides off towards the entrance of the tent again, his gear dangling from his paws. His butt is also very round.

It was nice hearing that. Your balls have always been your pride and joy. And it is quite a shame that you have to hide them all the time. They are really, really big. Hanging low beneath your sheath, the massive, pretty much always full nuts make you feel like a proper man. This whole thing makes you feel pretty awkward still.

You look at Seneca who gives you a "c?mon" gesture with his head and soon follow him back inside.

Once you are back inside the tent and take your place on the side-bench again, things actually do move forward pretty quickly. Seneca was right yet again.

The other ambassador positively lightens up when he sees the three of you head back in naked and immediately starts talking very fast to your ambassador.

Again you quickly stop listening. All this high talk is so boring. Eventually you are invited to join your hosts in the lift and shown to your quarters to rest.

The small suite of rooms that you are led into is very accommodating.

You have a little salon right behind the entrance with two adjacent rooms to the left and to the right. One bedroom with an oversized bed, nearly three metres long and 2.50 wide. A door here leads to a little bathroom with a shower and a hole for rather uncomfortable but obvious looking purposes. One study with desk, a little group of chairs with table and what seems to be a rather old fashioned but functional computer terminal. The people of this planet are not as technologically advanced as you are but not very far behind. You know from first contact that they don?t have a space program of their own and briefly wonder why. They sure seem to have the means to at least scout space but for some reason they don?t seem to have an interest in that.

After thanking your guide you step into your bedroom. The bed looks comfortable enough but there are no covers. The bed itself seems to be made of wood from the weeping trees, the surface shiny but dry to the touch. It doesn?t have a mattress and probing it with your finger confirms the visual impression that it seems to be a water-bed. The water-filled "mattress" seems to be made from the same flowy non-fabric material as the tent from earlier.

So now?s your chance to touch and investigate this stuff. You run your paws over the smooth surface. Even though it looks like .... white, creamy quicksilver, with almost translucent clouds drifting in it, the material is dry and rubbery. You trace one of the clouds with your finger and discover that it moves away from the pressure. Maybe this isn?t a waterbed but like a blob of plastic of some sort? You increase the pressure, pushing into the "mattress" with both paws and they sink in about two inches before meeting soft but firm resistance. This seems very comfortable. With your curiosity as sated as it can be without knowing what this actually is, you hop in. It is really comfortable and hugs your back like strong gel.

And here you are now, sprawled out on the huge bed, weary, a bit horny with nothing to do. Not really a tricky question what you should do now. You grab your sack just above your hefty nuts, making a ring with your thumb and your index-finger, and pull down hard. You close your eyes and moan, the peeking tip of your otter-dick quickly swelling into a full slimy 12 inch erection. With one paw still behind your head you continue your pleasurable ball torture a bit longer before you decide it is time to take matters into your own paw.

You grab your pre-covered dick and start jerking off slowly, steadily increasing the pull on your nuts.

It hurts but it feels so good. You squeeze your fat balls with one paw and increase the pace of your strokes around your dick with the other. It doesn?t take long for you to cum, thick ropes of jizz covering your abs, pecs and face, leaving you looking like a proper cum-slut. With a satisfied smile on your muzzle your drift off into sleep, your paw still tight around your now empty nuts...

You wake up. As you drift back to the surface you don?t know or care where you are. You are curled up on your bed, your back aching a bit but you are rested well enough.

You open your eyes and feel the vertigo of feeling like you are in one place but actually being in another. The room seems to shift, as your mind catches up with the never changing dusky light and your unfamiliar surroundings.

You sigh. You have no idea what time it is or for how long you have slept. Surely you haven?t missed anything important, otherwise Seneca or Charles would have woken you up.

You stretch your arms over your head and your legs, toes curled and flex every muscle in your body. Hmm that feels good. Especially in a bed as big as this.

You wince a bit when the dried cum in your fur breaks and twinges your fine hairs.

Ugh. Shower time.

You step into your little bathroom and eye the hole in the ground with wary caution. You know what it?s there for but hell that looks like a real challenge for your marksmanship. Good that all you need to do now is piss and you can do that under the shower. Or maybe soak yourself through with your hot, musky piss first and then shower. Yup, that?s what you?ll do, you think grinning to yourself.

There are no shower-curtains or walls, just a shower-head hanging from the ceiling. You look around but can?t find any buttons to turn the shower on. The pressure in your bladder increases but you don?t dare taking the risk pissing yourself before figuring out how to operate this thing. This is worse than the one time in that fancy restaurant when it took you 5 minutes to figure out how to operate the faucet to wash your paws.

You step forward, directly under the showerhead and look up, maybe there is some button on the head itself.

Click.

Ah pressure plate.

You screech as a torrent of ice cold water hits you right in the face. The shock of what feels like liquid ice cubes hitting your face with incredible pressure lets your release the straining muscles of your bladder and your feel your hot piss hit your chin before soaking your chest. The heat of the yellow stream is battling with the cold of the cascade from above. You cup your balls in your two squeezing palms while leaning back a bit to make sure your entire chest gets some of your pissy warmth. You pull your nuts down and increase the pressure. Moaning you close your eyes, the cold almost forgotten, just enjoying the incredible feeling of release in your bladder and oh so sweet pain in your re-filled fat nuts while drenching yourself in your musky liquid.

Your dick starts to grow out of it?s sheath quickly again, the blood fattening your rod diminishing the flow of your piss a bit but not stopping it. You lean forward again and angle your head above the geyser erupting from your member. You open your muzzle and gulp

down a few mouthful of your salty, tangy piss before the pressure subsides and finally dies down to a trickle before it stops.

Nice.

You release your balls and with the agonising pleasure your nuts were radiating into every corner of your body gone, said body is pretty quick to catch up with the feeling of ice showering you from above. After the initial shock it is actually pretty nice. Being a Sea-Otter you really, really don?t mind cold water, so you give yourself a proper rub down, cleaning every crevice and orifice of your body and after about 15 minutes of just relaxing under the shower you step out, looking for a towel.

Oh Fuck.

There is nothing here. You pad into the bedroom, the salon, the study, shedding water all over the place.

Well Fuck. Not a single scrap of fabric is to be found here. This is gonna be embarrassing. You sigh and start trying to smooth out your fur before shaking yourself again and again to get rid of the remaining water.

After you feel that you are sufficiently dry you sigh deeply and mentally prepare for what comes next.

You leave your suite and turn right, past Seneca?s suite towards Chuckle?s. You knock. Nothing happens. You knock again. The sound seems to be completely absorbed by the wood of the door. Ah fuck it.

You open the door and peek inside, coughing politely.

"Huh?" - From the study. His suite is a mirror of yours.

"It?s me. I ... need your help."

You hear Charles jump to his paws and he comes rushing out of his room, ready to fight. Even naked, he?s a soldier.

When he sees you he stops dead in his tracks and starts laughing hysterically.

You groan, close your eyes and endure it.

"You ... you had a shower, right?" He finally manages to ask, still shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Yes. And they don?t have fucking towels let alone a fur-dryer."

You don?t have a mirror but you know pretty much what you look like right now. Because of your incredible dense fur you become very, very, fluffy if your wet fur doesn?t get dried correctly. At the moment you must look like a baby chinchilla and not like the well trained soldier you are.

Your buddy?s massive frame is still shaking with silent laughter as he steps behind you, ready to help you groom your fur. This isn?t the first time he?s helping you with this, soldiers don?t always have towels.

While he is working your back you try your best on your front, clawing and smoothing through your fluff.

"Shoulda trimmed it like me. Told ya," he scolds you.

"Why? Never thought I?d end up on a planet without towels. Also, I bet you screamed like a little girl when you figured out how to have a shower. I actually liked it."

This is met with silence from his end.

He did scream like a little girl.

The thought lifts your spirits a bit and a smile returns to your muzzle. You have to admit the situation is pretty hilarious.

"But you?re right," you confess. "As much as I enjoy your straight paws on my ass, I don?t want to do this every time I have a shower. But with these people not having a single strand of hair on their bodies I don?t really count on them having fur trimmers."

"Well maybe they have some for their cattle. You know ... sheep and such."

"Oh yea, shear me like one of your french sheep," you chuckle. "That won?t be degrading at all."

"Well tough titties for you then fluffball," he smirks. "Either that or you?re running around like a poodle. Because honestly as little as I mind your gay ass under my paws, I also don?t want to do this every time you deign to have a shower. Not your fucking fur-slave."

With your combined efforts, you decide you?re more or less presentable again in little time. Your priorities have shifted though, because you really need to get your paws on something with which you can trim your fur. You?ll ask Seneca about it. He probably has the same problem and he does not have an old bunk buddy he can ask for help.

"We should check on the boss. What time is it anyway? I didn?t turn on that computer of theirs, went straight to bed and I have no idea how long I was out."

Charles flops on the huge (everything here is made for people much bigger than you are) sofa (also made from that quicksilver-like stuff) and spreads his legs, relaxing against the back-rest. He is obviously already fully used to having his balls dangle about freely.

"Oh you were out almost 14 hours. Interplanetary jet-lag can be a bitch, right? Your timing?s good though. We?re supposed to meet big S in about an hour. It?s 3 of 16," he adds with a wink, obviously enjoying that he knows something that you don?t.

You bite. "It?s what?"

"3 of 16. Day here lasts 16 hours, not 24 like on earth. So it is kinda 3 AM but on earth that?d be like 7. Or something. I did some reading on that box in there," he points towards the study. "Interesting how they manage everything here. I mean on a day to day basis, not the big, general stuff they told us about on the ship.

Days are not so important here, they don't? really have this day-night thing going on obviously so they seem to be sleeping for a few hours when they are tired and then go on with whatever they were doing, sleep again and so on. And in case you were wondering, and I know you were, there is indeed no fabric here. I mean, I didn?t read like: „we don?t have woven fabric? - more like ... there is no mention and no pictures of any form of clothing or sheets or whatever."

Your fur-problem lights back up in your brain like a Christmas tree: "So no sheep for wool? You said they had sheep?"

He looks a bit confused at the question, why are sheep so important to you all of a sudden, but then he remembers and starts laughing again.

You roll your eyes, sigh and just wait it out.

"I didn?t say they have sheep," he says after calming down again. "I said maybe and I said cattle. I don?t know. Humans also shear their dogs, right? I just meant to say that just because the sentient species here doesn?t have hair, doesn?t mean that they don?t know the concept of fur. And some shaggy sorts of fur that is way inferior to awesome smooth fur need grooming." He looks mighty pleased with himself at that jibe.

"Well fuck you too."

"Just kidding bro, you know I am just jealous," he winks. "Hey, have you had food?"

Oh fucking sweet heavens ... food. Just hearing this words makes your mouth water, even drool a bit and you realise how famished you are.

Another fit of laughter shakes your buddy, whom you start hating juuuuust a little bit right now.

"Ok, by the spit running down your chin I can tell you have not." He jumps up and vanishes into the study again. "Hang on, I got your back. Again."

You flop into one of the armchairs and enjoy the smoothness of the surface as your own balls smack against it. Yup, getting used to and starting to enjoy it. Why were clothes invented anyway? ... Ah right ... humans. You wonder what it would feel like to sit on your balls on this, pressing them hard between your toned ass and this awesome stuff ... But nononono No! Boobscuntyourgrannynakedscreamingkids.

No getting hard now! Your sheath swells a bit but your dick remains hidden. Phew, close one.

Suddenly a figure appears in your peripheral vision. You give a scream and jump up, facing your assailant.

Who smiles at you in a weird 4-parted way (you assume it is a smile, it looks smile-y) and extends a tray with food towards you. Holy shit, have these people not heard of knocking? Probably not.

You relax and bow, the palms of your paws pointing down. "Sorry!," you say, even though he doesn?t understand you. But he seems to catch the drift and lowers his head a bit in what you assume is acceptance of your apology.

You take the tray and the bringer of food vanishes as quietly and quickly as he had come.

You put the tray down and look at it.

Well this was fast, Chuckles is just now re-joining you in the salon.

Eying the stuff you are apparently supposed to eat, you quickly realise that you have no way of knowing what this is. It doesn?t look gross but ... weird. A plate contains some sort of salad, like made of algae with some white chunky bits in it. A bowl contains a soup with slightly differently coloured chunks in it.

You look at Charles, who has reclined on the sofa again, with a question in your eyes.

"Yea, it?s safe. MoCo scanned it and didn?t detect anything that?d be poison to us. Nutrients are similar to what we have, although very high concentrations of fat, low carbs. Wonder how these people stay so trim with this stuff, to be honest." So he had noticed it too. You wonder what

your straight buddy makes of the obvious lack of females. Or does he think of all of them as female?

"I had the same food about 5 hours ago and I feel fine. Tastes good too. But I kinda like fatty stuff." He slaps his hard but rounded belly and laughs. Gee he?s in a good mood.

You sit down again and start eating with your paws, lifting the bowl to your muzzle to drink directly from it. No cutlery has been provided. Well enough. As long as you eat carefully and make sure you don?t have to shower again.

And it is good. Even though you can taste and feel the fat and grease it is indeed very good. You add „gym? to the lists of things you need to look for. You finish your food in no time and spend the rest of the hour chatting with Charles.

Even though you are here less than a day, you have a lot to talk about obviously.

This also is his first contact and the time you have to yourselves before you are supposed to meet your ambassador is not near enough. You?ll have to continue this later, maybe after dinner.

You don?t bother knocking, by now you have figured out that this wood absorbs all kinds of sounds and there is no doorbell.

The people here really seem to have only a rudimentary concept of privacy, running around naked and opening doors without announcement. At least there are walls and rooms. Small blessings ...

You find the ambassador reclined on the sofa, his legs tucked under him. He is reading something on his MoCo, maybe instructions for today.

His fur looks properly groomed, maybe a bit ruffled. He did not have a shower. Kinky.

As you enter he looks up and smiles. "Ah right on time. Thank you for joining me. Please take a seat."

Both of you do so, then look at him, waiting patiently.

"Personal matters first. I assume you both have slept well and have eaten?"

You nod.

"Good, so you have figured out how to use the terminal."

Well you haven?t but if Chuckles was able to do so, you?re sure you?ll manage shall the need arise.

"I have been informed that some staff has been assigned to us, so if you should need anything just type it into the terminal. We have connected my MoCo to the system so non-verbal communication at least is ensured."

You look at Charles and know exactly what he is thinking „my MoCo?, the ambassador said.

He?ll have to wait then.

"Speaking of communication, I have contacted command and they will drop off spare MoCos today at 0900 at the location where we were dropped off yesterday. Or the day before yesterday." He looks a bit confused at this. "I will contact them again and suggest to put the ship on this planet?s time so the need for time conversion is omitted. Anyway.

Picking up those MoCos will be your first task for today, a guide will assist you, he?ll be here shortly. He is to be given the first MoCo, it?d be impolite not to. You, Charles, take one as well of course.

The others you?ll bring to me. Since it will only be around 50 the ambassador and I have thought of a first distribution depending on rank and importance to the talks.

As a first sign of good will, command, the captain and I decided to distribute as many MoCos as the people here want as well as the plans to make them - free of charge. So more will be arriving within two weeks or not at all, depending on how fast these people can make them. They seem advanced enough to copy them at least roughly. Hardware for the interpreter routine at least is not that hard to make."

At this you can?t help but whistle through your teeth. MoCos are not overly expensive to make so the free gift makes sense, but giving out plans freely is something else entirely. Someone very high up must have a mighty big interest in this rock and these people. You wonder why.

Seneca continues, with a slow smile playing around his muzzle. He looks directly at you now. "With the matter of communication taken care of, next order of business: fur-dryers."

You can?t help but laugh and nod in relief.

"Judging by your look you have taken a shower prematurely and are now suffering the consequences, I have not but I would really like to. Bad news: there are none. There are also no towels here. There is no fabric here. The ambassador didn?t even understand what I want. There are however fur-trimmers available, I have arranged for appointments for you and me."

"Thank you, Sir!"

"You are welcome. Don?t imagine a fur-salon though, more a barn."

You nod, after your talk with Chuckles you expected as much.

"After you have picked up the MoCos, meet me back here at 1130. You," he looks at Charles, "are of course welcome to join us, but it is not mandatory. You can also make your own appointments from here on out using the terminal.

Next. Save official appointments and your appointments with me, you are strongly encouraged to get to know the premises and familiarise yourself with the population. Of course for the time being this will be limited by the availability of MoCos, you can however use every terminal to chat. There are public terminals. In short, go out, enjoy yourselves and mingle. Try not to piss anyone off, but I have confidence in you. You wouldn?t be here if you were not deemed experienced enough.

If I need you, I?ll let you know in advance by texting your MoCo. Oh and I?d like to have this meeting every day at eight. Four. At four... We really need to get this time thing straight.

Questions?"

Charles and you look at each other and then both shake your heads. You still have that gym thing to take care of but you?re sure you can use that terminal to do so.

"Excellent. Ah and here is your Guide. I am afraid his name is impossible to pronounce, you all need a MoCo for this, so until you arrive at the drop off zone, I am afraid you won?t really be able to address him."

Him, you wonder. Was that pronoun used intentionally or out of habit? Looking at the ambassador, you can?t imagine that he does anything unintentionally.

You can?t help but feel a deep respect for the small Raccoon. First taking off his helmet back up, the endless negotiations, the perception of your ruffled fur and his attention to actually doing something about it. That guy?s deep man. You have lived together on the not overly big ship that got you here for years but in this new environment you seem to discover hidden qualities in your superior and friend. You are looking forward to the time with him here and getting to know him even better.

Not right now though because your guide already has turned around, ready to leave and take you to the drop off zone.

You make your way to the drop off zone in rather awkward silence. The soft slapping of your rifles against your naked butts and the crunching of the sand and pebbles under your naked (tender) paws the only sounds.

Kinda stupid to be naked and have a rifle but Seneca insisted you take them with you and your hosts seemed ok with it.

Charles and you are brimming with questions about this planet, the city, the people, about everything on this planet and you can?t ask them because you only have one MoCo between the three of you. You are sure the tall alien with the incredibly strong butt that is striding in front of you in a mouth-watering fashion, feels similar. You are aliens. From out of space. From another planet. He must have at least as many questions as you have. Surely, if you have been encouraged to „mingle?, his people have been as well. So his well composed exterior must be involuntarily as well, only restricted by lack of means of communication.

You can?t wait to arrive (and get back again, the grainy sand here does quiet a number on your paws).

Soon enough you spot a box in the ochre sand. The drop of must have happened already, there is no spot in the dusty yellow sky, betraying the departure of the cargo-craft.

You all but run and leap the last metres, your guide also finally betraying some of his own excitement.

He arrives first too, long legs and everything, but he doesn?t know how to open the box. So he has to wait more or less patiently until you have pressed all the right buttons and a panel at the top of the box slides open. You grab inside and produce two MoCos, giving one to Chuckles and one to the alien. Your buddy doesn?t hesitate to equip himself again with the wristband and pop the little bud into his ear.

Your guide watches him attentively but he seems to struggle a bit with the alien piece of technology. You approach him slowly to help. You look at him as if asking for permission and he holds out his arms in acceptance.

Taking the MoCo from him again you grab him by the underarm.

You flinch as a flash of electricity seems to jolt from your paw through your body and explode in your brain and balls. You stare at him with open muzzle, not letting go of his arm though. That felt kinda amazing. You don?t even realise that you just for the first time touched a species from another planet. You are just focused on the sensory signals your paw shoots to your brain. His arm is steel-hard, the skin seemingly as thin as a breath but covered in this strange liquid. Is it laced with drugs, like those frogs you heard about? You start panicking. Is he poisonous? What have you done? In your willingness to help a fellow soldier with something so mundane as equipping his gear, you took a risk you always have been warned about. No touching!

Your paw starts feeling numb and with a screech you let go of his arm, his MoCo dropping to the ground from your other paw as you grab your numbing appendage with it.

Your brother in arms is by your side in a heartbeat. The alien eyes shoot from you to Charles and back again, he seems to be at the verge of panic. You can?t help but feel sorry for him. It was your fault after all. You don?t know how to convey this to him though as your panic spreads. You can?t feel your paw-pads anymore. Your heart hammers like mad, driven by your rising panic.

Charles grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you to the ground into a sitting position. He presses your hand down, grabbing it tight around the wrist with his strong fingers to slow the blood-flow.

Right, keep the infected body part below the heart. Slow blood-flow, stop it if possible.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. You don?t want to lose your paw. You look at Charles, by now panting heavily. Panic and fear in your eyes. You?re almost hyperventilating. How could you be so stupid?

He should wrap his belt around your wrist now, stop the blood. But he doesn?t wear a fucking belt. He does what he can with his fingers though.

"It?s alright buddy. You?ll be fine. We?ll leave this here and get you back. We?ll figure something out. Calm down, you?ll be ok."

He actually starts petting your back with his free hand, trying to calm you down, his eyes never leaving yours.

The alien stares on, his four-parted mouth standing open, he seems to be scared as well. He definitely didn?t want to hurt you. Probably is under orders not to let any harm come to you, just as you are under orders to defend anything and everything on this planet with your lifes.

You close your eyes and try to steady your breathing, still your racing heart.

Your hand is still numb but it doesn?t seem to be spreading. The finger triage seems to work. You start breathing a bit more evenly and open your eyes again. Still full of fear but also with gratitude you look at Chuckles and nod. Maybe you?ll die, maybe you?ll lose your paw but at least you have seen all this, experienced a new species and you are here with your best friend, your brother.

"It?s not his fault," you tell him.

"I know. Nothing is going to happen though. You will be right as rain. Let?s get you back. Can you get up?"

You nod and a bit shakily stand up, your buddy still cutting off the blood flow into your hands with his fingers.

Your paw already starts swelling uncomfortably from the blood and you start feeling the dull pain of suffocating muscles. Wait ... pain? You look down at your paw and wiggle your fingers. Perfect muscle control. The numbness seems to leave your pads and paw as the pain increases.

"Hey, what?s wrong? Stay with me bro, you ok?"

All you can do is nod. The panic you felt earlier is replaced by confusion bit by bit. By now your paw feels almost normal again, bloated and painful but normal.

"I am ok ... it feel better." You wriggle your fingers again.

"I think it?s over. I think ... they have some kind of anesthetic in their skin. Leggo."

"You sure? We can still get you back and have a doctor or whatever look at you. Shaman maybe."

You can actually grin again and do so now. "Arrogant tit, they have computers so I am sure they have doctors. But honestly I think i am fine. It feels normal again. Kinda good actually. Except for your fat paw suffocating mine."

Charles lets out a huge sigh of relief at your words. If you can insult him again, you probably won?t die on the spot. Or he just wouldn?t mind if you did.

You smile at him, warmth flooding into your eyes. "Thanks man. Coulda gone differently. I.. I am sorry I was so stupid, didn?t think. Probably got too relaxed around here. Everything seems so nice."

Slowly and carefully he releases his grip around your wrist. His eyes never leave your face to make sure you won?t faint and collapse or anything.

"„S alright. Just be ok, ok?"

You shake your paw carefully, letting the blood flow back. It feels totally normal again. Your grip at empty air a few times and flex it. Nothing tells you of what happened just a minute ago.

You look at the alien and try to decide what to do. You?d like to tell him that you are alright, that this was your fault but you can?t do that without touching him again.

He is still standing there, looking at you fearfully, seemingly frozen where he stands, not a muscle on his body is moving.

That changes when you take a step towards him. As if you were a venomous creature he jumps back and raises his hands in front of his chest in a defensive gesture.

Fuck. So much for interplanetary understanding. What a screw up. You?ll be getting shipped home without a second thought. Fuck.

Still looking at the alien you do the only thing you have learned so far about their customs. Looking at him, you extend your arms a bit and point the palms of your paws towards the ground. You just hold this position and wait, it has to mean something nice, otherwise their ambassador wouldn?t have done this. Or maybe it means get the fuck off my lawn, but at this point you just have to do something.

You?re lucky. The big alien visibly relaxes and says something. He stops quickly and you can?t help but smile because the look of frustration on his face is as easily readable as if it were Chuckles? face.

Not sooo different after all.

You nod, looking at him questioningly.

He looks confused. This guy is not an ambassador. What you thought were unreadable alien faces of people completely different from you yesterday, was just the prove of years of diplomatic training. This guy is a soldier, like you and Charles. It is amazing how easy it is to ready his facial expressions, even though he doesn't have eyebrows and is of a species on a planet a fuckzillion miles from home.

You can?t stop yourself from laughing. From relief of not being dead just yet and from how fucking cute he actually looks. All scared and insecure and frustrated ... What erupts from you in almost hysterical laughter now is the realisation that he is you. He is feeling the same fear, caution, insecurity, the same void inside you that makes you wonder what the FUCK you are doing here. What the fuck is happening. What the fuck ... how are you of all people even allowed to be here?

He is feeling the same things.

Nothing, the whole fucking nothing between the stars, so much nothing that it swallows universes can prepare you for this.

For standing in front of a fuzzy alien with a rifle on his back. An alien that just landed on your planet. In your city. Where you grew up, went to school, had your first kiss, your first break-up. Where you thought the news from two nations over would be the most exciting thing of your career with the army.

And now there is ALIENS here. And one TOUCHED you.

What the hell is even going on?

You don?t know for how long you have been standing there, laughing. Eventually you start crying.

After what seems like an eternity you just sit down.

And don?t do anything.

Just sit there and look at your new friend from fuckzillion miles away.

Charles has been standing by, lost in confusion. He is obviously concerned about you, maybe thinking that you are riding out an alien drug high and maybe you are but you don?t know and it doesn?t matter and you don?t care.

You look at him and smile with snot hanging out of your nose and your fur matted by your tears and say to him the only thing that you can think of that explains what you have just experienced:

"We are on MK-6879 II man."

It doesn?t even take a second before he tears up as well, sinking to his knees next to you to embrace you in a bone-crunching hug.

"We are buddy. We are."

He doesn?t let go for a very long while.

Through all this the alien just stood there, mesmerized. This display of pretty much every emotion big old earth has to offer in the span of just 5 minutes - from fear of death to brotherly love - must have left the poor guy at the verge of just running away and hide in a hole.

You are sure just his military training stopped him from doing so.

You try your best to clean your face with the fur on your arms and even though you are not very successful at it you quickly decide to act upon your epiphany.

This guy is more afraid of you than of death itself probably but he?ll just has to deal with this now.

You get up, still smiling, grab the MoCo and take the few steps towards him. Your brace yourself for a second before touching his arm again, grabbing it firmly as he tries to pull it away.

You slap the wristband around his arm, let your paw-pad slide over the on-sensor and push the ear-bud in his hand. You can feel the numbness again but you are not afraid anymore, you survived one, you?ll survive another.

You point at the bud, you point at his ear and urge him on to put it in.

Quickly enough he does so and he starts talking immediately, definitely not a diplomat.

"Holy -beep- feces -beep- are you -beep- functional -beep-?

They told us not to touch you and then you touched me and I didn?t know what to do and they?ll fire me and then you grew and then you went all weird and then your colleague tried to

rip off your hand and then you -beep-greeting the earth and those who dwell in it -beep- and then you screamed and then you started shining like us and, and .... are you -beep- functional -beep-?" He takes a deep breath after this constant stream of hissing and clicking from his mouth. Looking at you with his wide open, glistening insectile eyes.

At first all you can do is stare up at him with wide eyes, your mouth forming an almost comical o.

Then you start laughing again, you just can?t stop yourself.

"Holy faeces .... I ... I am alright. I am good. Thank you." You take a deep breath, trying to contain your laughter but failing miserably.

"Thank you so much. I am not ... I am ... I am laughing. This ... we do this when we are happy or surprised and ... it is good. It is a good thing. Sorry, I am not screaming at you. Laughing is good. We like to laugh."

At this the poor guy relaxes visibly, his taut muscles retreating just a bit as they are released from their constant duty.

You now can hear that Chuckles? does exactly that: chuckle, ready to break out into full-fledged laughter himself any second now.

"I am sorry I touched you. Your skin ... made my paw go numb but just for a bit. I am fine now, everything is just so fucking fine."

You beam at him, your body still awash with the most potent drugs it is able to produce, endorphins, adrenalin and whatnot. "I am an alien." Another fit of laughter shakes you.

The four-parted mouth before and above you opens and releases a constant stream of warm air in your face. The four lips quiver and you hear some clicks deep in the other?s throat as if he were trying to speak.

Eventually after a lot of beeping as your MoCo tries to translate those sounds you hear:

"Yes. Yes you are and isn?t that -beep- intercourse -beep- weird? You are an alien. We didn?t know and now you are here and ... and this is just so -beep- intercourse -beep- weird."

This is followed by this hot blow of air again and more clicking in his throat. With the expression he is wearing now and getting better at this kind of stuff by the second you don?t need an explanation: He is laughing as well now.

After a bit all three of you just drop to the floor, exhausted by all the emotions you went through since getting here. This, what just happened, bonds all three of you for life. Nothing can compare to what you have just experienced together. It feels as if you went from alien strangers to family. Charles and the alien have seen more of what is going on in your soul than your mother probably. Charles already was your brother and now you have another one.

The three of you take some time to recover and eventually reality catches up with you again. You actually have an appointment with a barber. As you think of that you can?t help but laugh again, weakly though, your energy almost completely drained. Gun get your hair did by an alien. In a barn.

You get up, pet the crate full of MoCos and look at them: "Let?s get those babies home then. And let?s pray that there is alcohol on this planet because I need a fucking drink."

At this Chuckles can only nod vigorously, he definitely is also in need of something strong to calm his nerves.

He looks at your new friend and starts asking: "Do you have alco... Wait. First things first. What is your name? We haven?t even asked. I am Charles, but please call me Chuckles or Chuck and this fluffy pain in the ass is Lutris. We went to school and academy together." He extends his paw and waits ....

The alien looks at the paw and then at you, obviously at a loss about what to do.

"Erm ... sorry. On earth, our planet, we shake paws when we meet new people and introduce ourselves." He lowers his paw again, but the alien is just as happy to learn new things as you are and he pretty much jumps forwards to grab Charles? paw and shake it vigorously. You see your buddy?s pecs up and down bounce as his whole frame is shaken by the force of that handshake.

You can also see from the widening of his eyes that he is now experiencing the lightning bolts into his brain and .... dick? that you experienced earlier.

Yea, even while his whole body is shaken by the alien power his dick doesn?t grow but pretty much explodes from limb to rock hard out of his sheath in mere nanoseconds.

Holy crap what? Did that happen to you too?

Oblivious of his dripping ottercock swining at 10 incredibly fat inches in front of his groin, Chuckles laughs and pats the alien?s hand and says: "Ok, ok, enough. Usually we do like 3 shakes and then let go. But your enthusiasm is appreciated." Grinning he retrieves his mangled paw and winks at the alien.

"My name is -beep- the tireless walker -beep-. Pleased to meet you. Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You grew. Just like Lutris earlier. But it looks different. Thicker, not like a -beep- snake -beep- but like a log."

The look of utter confusion on his face makes you laugh again. "Look at your dick buddy."

He looks at you with the half-formed question of „what now?? on his lips but then he looks down and immediately slams his paws in front of his groin, hard enough to make himself wince.

You make the "Uhhh" face in sympathy. That must have hurt.

The look of confusion on Walker?s face deepens. Modesty is totally unknown here it seems. Or rather ... the lack of shame of your own body doesn't need a concept of modesty. You?re always modest. Even with a boner like that.

"We only do that when we want to have fun or want to mate. Do you want to mate with Lutris now?"

You explode in laughter at this, unable to answer Walker?s weird, but understandable question.

Between burst of laughter you tease your friend: "Wanna give me your fuzzy babies Chuck?"

He is obviously incredibly embarrassed, with all this fear of dying thing going on earlier you both have not noticed that the exact same thing happened to you when you touched Walker.

"I ... uhm, I don?t know why that happened. He did that too? I ... I don?t know. I am sorry. We ... also do that for fun or mating we put it into... WOULD YOU STOP LAUGHING PLEASE?"

No. No you would not. At this point it is hard to keep standing, that?s how hard you have to laugh at your friend?s predicament. Not so much at him swinging around his meat but doing so while explaining to an alien life form why he was doing it.

"God, you?re so immature." Charles actually removes his paws from his groin, letting his dick breath some fresh alien air again. He puts his fists on his hips in a defiant way and puffs out his chest all professional soldier like.

"This is our reproductive organ. Mine looks different from his because we?re of different sub-species."

He looks at Walker to see if he understood all this. Apparently satisfied he continues: "I don?t know why this happened just now but I guess, there is something in your skin that ... erm stimulates those regions of our bodies. And no, I do not wish to mate with Lutris," he gives you the stink-eye while saying that, you yourself are still enjoying yourself enormously, "and even if I wanted to, we can?t. He is a male, like me, and we need females to mate. Or to produce offspring at least. That?s called uh ... sex I guess. Mating. Fun-sex can be had with any combination of sexes. But not mating-sex. But there is different kinds of fun. Like male and female fun. And I don?t like male on male fun. He does though YOU LAUGHING FAGGOT."

You are positively crying from laughing now. And even though you?d kill other men for calling you a faggot, hearing Charles yell this at you makes all this even funnier.

"Geezus fuck Chuckles, they should let you teach sex-ed," you wheeze between bursts of giggly laughter.

"Oh for fucks sake. Listen, mate," he turns to Walker again, "I am happy to answer all your questions. We all are. I mean that?s why we?re here. But right now our job is to get these MoCos to your people so we can actually do the talking necessary for answering those questions. We also have a lot of them.

So let?s just get back ... home I guess, and have a drink and talk. So back to my initial question, do you guys have alcohol here? Beer and stuff?"

"Why do you need ethanol? We haven?t been informed that you need it to sustain yourselves. I am sorry, we don?t really „have? it. But I am sure we can make some, it is an easy enough compound, even I know that. And I don?t understand the word -beep- Entry not found. Click here to return to main menu -beep-. Sorry."

Chuck sighs.

"We don?t need alcohol ... ethanol. Alcohol is ethanol with ... taste. Like ... We drink it as a recreational drug, it makes our heads a bit emptier and everything seems easier when you drink it in moderation."

At this Walker lights up. "Oh, we have that. Recreational beverages. Drugs. So to say. Yes. What an awesome idea, we can do that. Let?s get back and do that and talk."

He is really excited now, happy about the prospect of taking recreational drugs and having his questions answered. You just hope you don?t end up in this place?s equivalent of a shooting gallery.

You grab the box by the handles and start pulling it back towards the tent with the elevator.

It is not heavy but walking and pulling and the „sun? make sure that Charles and you are soon panting from the exhaustion. Walker doesn?t seem to be worked up at all, if anything his wet coating just deepens a bit as if he were sweating.

On the way you ask Seneca if he has any more appointments for you today and inform him that the „mingling? has already started. He answers that no, while he will be having lunch and dinner with the ambassador, your afternoon and evening are free.

Happy about this you tell Walker that you?d like to join for drinks after you got your fur trimmed.

"Wait like a -beep- Species detection error. Click here for main menu. -beep-?" His eyes go wide. "But you are not cattle."

"Well thanks for saying that. You see, my fur needs certain things that we just can?t get here. We didn?t anticipate that so we didn?t bring any. So in order not to look ... weird I am just gonna have my fur cut really, really short."

"Weird is one word for it ..." Chuckles helpfully adds to the conversation.

"Oh I see. What is it that you need then? Maybe we can make that as well?"

You look at Charles and remember what Seneca had said earlier. He just shrugs, he also doesn?t know how to introduce an entirely new concept.

"I ... don?t know how to explain it. But it is ok. Our ambassador has talked to your ambassador about it and all is good. It is not something I need, it is more something I want."

"Maybe we need it to not collapse laughing when you enter a room?"

"Not helping Chucks!"

You drag the crate along in silence for a bit.

Suddenly Walker says: "Can I come?"

"Where?"

"To your shearing. It sounds kind of hot."

Charles and you look at each other with big eyes, still shocked about these people?s lack of inhibition. Or maybe this is another of the interpreter?s hiccups?

"It sounds what?"

"Uhm ... sorry. I mean, sexyally stimulating. We get sexual stimulation from looking at things or acts that we find ... pleasing or ... hot. Not saying that you are a thing. The act. Sounds hot. What does that word mean for you?"

Lack of inhibition. Just ... wow. This will take some getting used to. You are a soldier and this guy can make you feel like a blushing schoolgirl.

"Well ... yea. That. I just wanted to make sure.

But we use the word shear for animals ... I am getting my fur trimmed."

Another few seconds pass in silence.

"So can I?"

This time it is Charles who is delighted by the embarrassing situation you are in. Fucking Karma.

You have to admit that Walker is hot, though. They all are. And him looking at you while you get shorn? Fuck yes, also sounds hot. Saying it is a completely different matter for you though.

"Sure, I?d be happy if you came and watch me get shorn." Your mouth snaps shut - did you just say that? Oh for shit?s sake, Chuck will never let you forget that you said that.

You look at him. He walks on the other side of the crate, staring ahead, his lips pressed tightly together and shakes his head slightly. His eyes and chaps bulge as he tries not to explode in laughter. Oh yea. He will not let you forget this.

Walker is totally oblivious to all that and just strides on happily.

You sigh and just have to accept your new fate as the boy who got shorn.

"Ah there you are. Bit late, was starting to get worried," Seneca greets you as the three of you heave the crate into his room. He flaps his paw in the direction of his study.

"Just put it in there, the ambassador?s people will pick it up in a bit while we get our fur trimmed."

"Shoooorn." Charles whispers, bleating like a sheep.

"What?"

"Nothing, Sir. Dry throat. Long walk. Sorry"

"Alright. Will you be joining us Charles?"

"Yes, Sir. As will he. This is tireless Walker. He asked if he could come, he thinks he might learn from it."

Walker looks at Charles, apparently confused.

Nonetheless he grabs the surprised ambassador?s paw and says: "It is nice to meet you." Shake. "We have had the chance to get to know each other while picking up these devices." Shake. "His seems to be a bit dysfunctional though." Shake. "What I said was that I might find it hot ... erm, sexually stimulating to see Lutris get shorn." Letting go of paw, smiling down into ambassadors dumbfounded face.

Next to you Chuck trembles with suppressed laughter. These guys can?t sugar coat.

It doesn?t take too long for Seneca?s training to kick in though and with a face as straight as Chuck?s dick he says: "A pleasure to meet you tireless Walker. Please do call me Seneca. And

while it may indeed be as stimulating as you say, I am sure you can learn as well, that is probably what Charles here meant.

I did not think of our appointment today as interesting for you or your people. Surely an inattention on my side. Maybe others might want to be joining as well?"

Fucking what now? You stare at the ambassador in disbelief.

"Oh that is an excellent idea -beep- long dead greek philosopher, click here for vita -beep-. I mean, we all do have different tastes but I am sure our ambassador would appreciate an invitation. I don?t know him of course but maybe he also gets off on watching someone helpless get shorn. Can?t hurt to ask." He beams at Seneca, obviously pleased with his own contribution to furthering the relationship between your two people.

Holy mother of fuck. This is unbelievable. Your shake your head slightly but with vigour, but Seneca doesn?t seem to be paying attention to you.

He is mustering Walker with faszination and slowly starts nodding his devious, twisted little head.

"Thank you so much for this insight, tireless Walker. I shall contact the ambassador immediately and extend an invitation to anyone who may be interested."

Charles does the staring ahead of him thing again, trembling all over, his taut muscles straining to pop from his skin. "SirmayIbeexcusedIneedto .... to... go. Ineed to be...somewhere else."

Without waiting for an answer he turns around and slams the door behind him, leaving the three of you alone. The sound-proof qualities of the wood doesn?t let you hear anything but you are sure he is literally lying in a puddle of his own piss on the floor, laughing.

Seneca is a bit irritated but too enthralled by the idea of having you publicly ... yes fucking shorn like a sheep just for his little political game. Geezus fuck.

He smiles warmly at Walker and says: "Would you mind waiting in Lutris? quarters? I need to write that invitation to your ambassador. I will make sure to mention your name. Thank you so much again."

"Not a problem -beep- superior officer of undefined rank -beep-." He winks at you and vanishes through the door that Chuck had used just a minute ago. Hopefully he trips on him and they all die.

"WHAT THE FUCK ... erm ... Sir? Are you whoring me out for some political game? Seriously, that is low and I am pretty sure illegal." You cross your not unremarkable arms in front of your even more remarkable chest and glare at him.

"Lutris. We have been on that ship for how long? Almost seven years I think. I know each and every one of the crew better than I know my family." He turns around to look out of the window at the magnificent cave-landscape. Probably to hide his feelings at those words. Your stance softens a bit but you?re still mad as fuck.

"You are my family now. You are who I care for, you are the ones that are left for me to care for."

This also saddens you. Fucking Einstein ... You knew that when you left but ... hearing it ... You push the thought away. He?s not gonna emotionally black-mail you out of this.

To your surprise he doesn?t try.

As he turns around again he doesn?t look sombre or sad but is actually grinning mischievously.

"As I said, I know you guys. And I wouldn?t have said what I just said if I didn?t know that you?d really, really enjoy to be publicly shorn like an animal. Am I wrong?"

Now it?s your turn to stare at him with your muzzle hanging open, totally thunderstruck.

He laughs good heartedly at this.

"I am sorry Lutris but you have bottom written all over your muzzle and especially right across that muscular ass of yours that you work so hard to keep in shape." He lifts his paws as yours fall down, too shocked to keep your defiant stance any longer.

"I promise you I didn?t spy on you, because that would be illegal. We are the good guys, Lutris. You, Charles, me, the captain, Whin ... all of us. I am just really, really good at my job.

As are you. That is why you are here dammit. And I do apologize for just catching you off guard with this but it is a good idea your new friend had.

So again, am I wrong?" He winks at you.

"Shit fucking dammit Seneca, no, you are not wrong."

It is not going to be a barn.

Hardly surprising really with everything being build in trees. After the invitations got sent out and Seneca talked you into doing this, not for king, motherland or glory, but for your own fucking exhibitionism, you?re on your way to your „barber appointment?. He managed to use your own libodo against you. Fucking hell.

Kinda creepy how that little guy has looked right through you.

You do believe him, when he says, that he didn?t spy on your search history or anything. You yourself didn?t even know that you might find this hot. Who?d think of something like that? Until Walker brought up the subject, you wouldn?t dream about jerking off while imagining to be shorn publicly.

You did agree to his stupid idea but you don?t feel well.

As you walk towards your destination, high above the ground, using those wobbly walk-ways between the trees, you try to get a grasp on what you are feeling.

Excited, scared, already embarrassed and humiliated. And not the good kind of humiliation.

If you are chained to a wall in a gay club, with multitudes just using you for their own pleasure that is one thing. But ... having that done in front of an audience of which you don?t know what they think of it, is something different entirely.

So why did you agree? You couldn?t really answer that question. It is like when you were a little boy and you knew you shouldn?t and you suspected that nothing good would come out of it but you did it anyway.

You were always that one kid that had to put his paw on the hot plate after being warned about it, just to see if it really is that hot.

You don?t even pay attention to where you are going. You just follow Seneca who is idly chatting with some guy who had picked you up. You can?t even marvel at the alien?s physique as you usually do, you are too deep in thoughts, and fearful anticipation.

Your maw tastes like old socks.

Your tummy grumbles.

You are scared. And still, when you picture what is about to happen, you can?t help but being excited.

You let out a shivery breath. Your mantra of acceptance, strength and wisdom won?t really work this time. You could change what is about to happen ... Well, to be honest, it probably is too late for that. You however could have changed it.

You bump into your ambassador, almost toppling him over. Your well trained reflexes override your worrisome mood though and you grab him by the shoulders to prevent him from from plummeting to his death. Seems you have reached your destination.

Gathering your wits and pushing away your fear at least for the moment, you look around.

You are standing in front of a door, almost undetectable in the the trunk of the mammoth tree.

Nobody is doing anything like ringing a bell or something but after just a few seconds the door opens and your little group is let inside.

Once through the door you stagger a step back.

You don?t see any -species detection error, click here for main menu- but you can certainly smell them.

The stench makes you even more curious as to what kind of animal they are keeping here, judging from the smell it definitely is water-dwelling. It stinks like a bed of seaweed rotting in the sun. Yikes.

Clever illumination makes the hollow tree?s inside brighter than the outside. You actually have to squint your eyes for a few moments before you can take in your new surroundings.

You are standing on a platform that is about 15 metres across. A few metres off central, there is a shaft, probably some sort of elevator. Some beams are connecting the platform to the trunk of the tree, holding it secured in place. A few paces to your left a staircase spirals down, probably all the way to the ground.

It does look barn-like in here, that is to say, like proper environment for animal husbandry. Pretty much everything is made out of wood, looking very rustic. Light seeps in through window-like holes about 3 metres up, running around the entire circumference of the tree. There are no real windows, probably to make sure none of the mysterious, stinking creatures jump out.

You see some buckets standing around, ropes hanging from beams, ready to hoist stuff around. The only thing missing here to make it a proper terran barn is hay and cows.

There seems to be some hold up in front of you and soon enough Seneca turns around to you.

"So this seems to have turned into quite a show."

You feel your gut drop and your balls hug your body fearfully.

"The ambassador has not turned up, sending his regards, but he seems to have forwarded the invitation to anyone who he thought might be interested and people are still getting seated or something.

I ... erm will be having my fur trimmed somewhere else ... Don?t want to steal your thunder after all." At this he winks at you, obviously enjoying your self inflicted predicament.

You are so nervous and hot and afraid that you are starting to pant. You regret everything. This was the worst fucking idea ever. It all sounded so hot and sexy when Walker asked you and you mulled the idea over in your head, imagining giving him a show. Now there is nothing of that left, only fear and sweat.

"Seneca ... I, I ... don?t think I can do this. I am sorry but this is just too much...."

He places a paw on your chest and looks into your eyes, a reassuring smile has replaced the wicked grin he wore earlier around his muzzle.

"Lutris, you?ll be fine. Trust me, I know how you feel. Just close your eyes and enjoy it. It?ll come to you."

"How do you mean, you know how ...."

Before you can finish your question a sudden motion distracts both of you. Some other alien has emerged from downstairs, hissing and clicking furiously, obviously excited to get the show on the road.

Seneca gives your arm a gentle squeeze and mouths: "Have fun." - it doesn?t even seem ironical. Bastard.

A shadow falls over you and you look up into the strange, half insectile face of the new arrival.

"Hello Lutris, my name is -beep- He who soars the Waves -beep-. This is my farm and given the special circumstances I will be honoured to shear you myself. Haven?t done it in a while, being busy overseeing everything but I?ll make sure to get that pelt off of you just as properly as any of my employees." He laughs and slaps your shoulder hard.

In your fearful and feeble state of mind it takes quite some effort to stand your ground and not be slammed into the next wall from that "pat". With the ordeal before you and this towering alien next to you, you feel tiny. Not in the least like the well trained, experienced solder that you are outside this farm.

You smile at him weakly and nod. He turns around, expecting you to follow. You close your eyes and try to steel yourself.

You descend the stairs behind your „barber?, the platform below coming into view, one step at a time.

For once, Seneca didn?t get it quite right. No one is seated, about 25 people (all male by your assumption) are standing around in a semi circle. They all look pretty much the same to you,

even though they vary in height and width. You try to identify Walker, he?s got to be here somewhere, after all, it was his shitty idea in the first place. One of the aliens is grinning wide and waves at you, so that probably is him. You try your best to give him a smile, but only end up looking as if you are about to start crying.

Seeing all those faces, even the one very friendly one, makes you shiver as if covered by cold sweat and you pant even harder. You look at them with big fearful eyes, all your brain does is scream "Nononononononono..." inside your otherwise empty head. The pads on your paws are clammy and you are sure that you are actually leaving pawprints on the worn out wooden stairs as you descend and step on the platform.

There is no cheer or anything, they just look at you. Some of the insectile mouths are opened slightly in benevolent smiles. They don?t seem leering or anything, more ... good humouredly expectant. Not like a crowd expecting a lewd act of self-degradation but a nice little act at a posh soiree.

This relaxes you a little, your balls relaxing into their fuzzy pouch just the tiniest bit, like pups feeling the temperature of the pool?s water.

Your barber/icky-animals breeder stops right in front of that must-be elevator shaft and punches something into a well used, grimy terminal. Hearing a low whirring from above you look up and see some sorts of cuffs lowered from a ceiling beam on two thick ropes. Are your wrists going to be cuffed while being ... shorn? He turns towards them and busies himself with tugging and adjusting something.

All the while you are standing pretty much in the middle of the platform, surely being the nervous and palm sweaty subject of politely hissed and clicked conversation.

Just standing there, not knowing what is about to happen next but with dark suspicions as to those cuffs your nervousness grows again, adrenalin surging through your body. You think you can actually feel bitter drops fall off your panting tongue, wetting the fur on your chin.

You start to shiver ever so lightly, your wet palms clenched into tight fists. You don?t move but lacking the alien?s body control your muscles twitch and snake under your tight skin. Your body seems to swell from the taught muscles urging you on to flee this horrible scene. Your pecs stand out in stark relief, your abs quiver and the massive muscles of your quads and glutes seem to bloat even more from the mixed orders -flee-stay-flee-stay they are receiving.

Your over-sensitive ears catch a faint whirring like from a tiny buzzsaw and your head whips around, eyes wide with terror.

Apparently though it is just the cuffs expanding, preparing to accommodate the size of your wrists.

Now your tormentor-to-be turns towards you, pleased with the cuff?s settings. He takes two large strides, ending up right in front of you, your muzzle all but buried in the cleft between his massive pecs. Instinctively you jerk back and he steps back immediately, delivering a shocked hiss.

"Oh I am so sorry. Routine kicked in and I am not used to talk to the animals I am processing."

.... Animal ... being processed .... Your nuts shrink back, trying to hide inside your body.

He gives a short explosive laugh and slaps your shoulder again before stepping next to you and putting an arm around your trembling frame. This feels really nice though and you relax a bit, trying your hardest not to actually cuddle against him, let him protect you from the world.

He motions towards the cuffs hanging from the ceiling and explains: "-beep- species detection error, click here for main menu -beep- don?t have limbs just ... ends."

You grind your teeth, you really have to find out what those shit creatures look like and reprogram your MoCo with a proper name. Stinkles? Smell-rats? Odour-snakes?

Interrupting your thoughts he continues and now you actually do cuddle against his side. Only a bit. He is so hard and strong though.

"So I had to widen the cuffs a bit, especially the rear one."

Wait ... rear?

"We usually suspend the -beep- species detection error, click here for main menu -beep- and scratch them down for harvest. Didn?t bring a basin today though „cos I don?t wanna eat your

-beep- Tiny tentacles. Approximation. Click here to edit. -beep-." He laughs again. Well at least one of you is enjoying himself here.

Your eyes widen at the mention of suspension but for some weird reason what you say is: "Edit." -beep- Speak after the beep -beep- "Fur." -beep- Thank you. Added to database. -beep-

"What?"

You just sigh and shake your head: "Nothing - MoCo. Sorry." And you snuggle against his massive frame a bit tighter. He doesn?t seem to mind.

"Anyway, the -beep- Unknown -beep- comes off very easily once ripe and I think I?ll have a bit of a rougher time harvesting you but you look like you can take it." He laughs again and squeezes your shoulder, his strong fingers barely able to sink into the hard flesh of your taut muscles.

"I don?t want to hurt you so just say something when I am getting too rough with the scraper."

He releases you and you are sure that around your shoulders and upper back he can go as hard as he wants because of his skin secretion you already feel numbness spread there.

You sigh and follow him, a bit unsure how he is going to get you up there, the „rear? cuff doesn?t seem to be coming any lower.

As if reading your mind he unceremoniously wraps a thick arm around your waist and lifts you up. You screech in surprise and he pats your butt laughing.

As if magnetic to flesh the cuffs open and zoom in on your wrists and ankles and within a split second you are released (more areas of your body going numb) and gently swinging in the air, about 1.70 off the ground, the perfect height for him to „harvest? your „tiny tentacles?.

It is not uncomfortable, the cuffs are so far apart that you don't have to strain not to sag too much. Even though your joints are being pulled apart it is actually quite comfortable. You feel joints pop and your spine being stretched like from a rather unusual massage. You close your eyes, by the pleasurable sensation forced to relax. You actually start smiling, the stretching of your limbs and especially your spine is utterly amazing.

Because you are staring at the barn wall anyway, you have no qualms to close your eyes and enjoy the sensation. With "Wave" becoming all business like it doesn?t take long until you feel something smooth and sharp scraping over you, just where your butt melts into your leg.

A low moan escapes your muzzle as with calculated pressure he pulls the scraper down, past your sensitive knee pit and along your calves. This is even better than a massage. All the fear and the worry is forgotten, this is fucking amazing.

Back up he goes, the same path, fur raining down from your suspended body.

The exquisite sensation of the sharp scraper being dragged along your skin repeats a few times until he seems satisfied. You sigh disappointedly as the scraper leaves your skin but you are not left hanging for long. He steps around you, repeating the sensual treatment on your other leg.

The shivers of fear have been replaced by shivers of pleasure, your panting replaced by sensual moans with your tongue hanging out and dripping on the wood below.

You can?t help but groan lewdly as he runs his hand down your legs to check his work. The smooth, wet skin feels utterly amazing on your now very short, bristling fur. And now they are numb. Ah well, he seems done with the back of your legs anyway so you won?t lose out on much.

If you though the scraping of your legs was great, the feeling of your ass being leaves you moaning and drooling in bliss. You tense your massive muscles to increase the pressure of the scraper, practically bucking up in your suspended position to push yourself harder against the tool of your sweet pleasure.

Suddenly you are pulled out of your addled state of mind as you feel how he spreads your ass cheeks wide, ready to remove the incomparably softer fur along your crack and around your hole.

With your body getting more and more used to the anesthetic properties of the alien?s skin, dick has only occasionally peeked out of your swollen sheath until now, the sensation so far more pleasureable than sexual. With your most sensitive part suddenly exposed, your slimy dick surges out of it?s fuzzy confinement, 12 inches of slender Otter-meat hard as rock in an instant, adding it?s own juices to the growing puddle of your drool below you.

Wave can?t see what his touch did to you but your audience certainly did.

Silent onlookers until now, the soft hissing and clicking of their voices raising appreciatively. Your ever dutiful MoCo strains and transmits some words "... likes .... mate .... grew like ..." They are quick enough to grasp that you are really enjoying yourself. They even sound relaxed, as if anxious about your enjoying yourself more than about their entertainment. Damn Seneca, right again.

No time to dwell on this though because with two of his three fingers keeping your ass cheeks spread, Wave starts to pull the scraper roughly through your crack.

You yelp out in pain, your cock softening a bit, and start squirming in your bondage. That hurt.

Immediately you are released and Wave asks, his embarrassment more audible in his clicking than from your MoCo?s translation: "Did that hurt you? Sorry, should I stop?"

"Uh ... no .. just ... a bit more careful there? That is a very ... sensitive spot."

He places one thick finger right on your tail-hole and you yelp again, this time from confused arousal, your legs trying to spread on their own accord, only restricted by that fucking cuff. Already you can feel the by now well-known numbness spread out from your quivering sphincter.

Breathing in sharp you press out between gritted teeth: "Oh fuck Yea, that spot."

"-beep- intercourse -beep- Yea?" - He chuckles. This fucking alien is teasing your tail-cunt with his finger and chuckles.

"Is this pleasurable for you?"

Your throbbing dick trembles in agreement before you can form the words, your language distended by your needy moans: "Yes ... yes, it ... it is very uh .... stimulating."

"Good," he just says and starts pushing his finger into your hole. Due to the numbness of your skin you don?t feel much except the stretching of your welcoming hole around his very big finger. It almost feels like a thick cock is slowly being shoved into your quivering hole.

You cum. You close your eyes, strain every last one of your considerable mass of muscles to push your needy ass against him, trying to suck more of that fat alien finger into you.

It has been too long, 7 fucking years without exactly that. Fucking. You had no idea how much you needed another sentient being inside your ass until now. Dildos are fun and all but nothing beats having someone shove something up your desperate tail-hole.

At the other end of the universe you hear polite laughter and appreciative clicking as you cum rope after rope of thick white spunk. Your balls jump up and down as they pump more and more cum out of you. If feels like you are unloading your Otter-slime for ever and don?t even register for a long while that Wave has resumed his scraping, his middle finger still lodged inside your fuck-tunnel, his other two fingers spreading your cheeks to allow him to remove your fur.

You come to your senses who knows how long later. The first thing you notice is that you don?t have a fat alien finger up your ass anymore. Your fuck-hole relaxed and tenses at it?s own volition as if it were trying to suck in another finger, cock or whatever is available to fill that emptiness.

You have been turned around, now facing the ceiling and apparently Wave is almost done with your chest. This is what must have woken you up: the repeated scraping over your sensitive nipples. Your dick is rock hard again or still, dripping onto your washboard abs, making the scraping so much more easy.

Wave seems to have noticed that too, as he is milking your dick for pre every now and again, totally nonchalantly just grabbing your tool and stroking it a couple of times. Your hard member is totally numb, it feels really weird to be milked like that but of course also incredibly hot. Your dick feels like it is only a slime spilling tube, the skin unfeeling but the muscles below even more eager to transmit sensory commands.

When he sees that you opened your eyes again he smiles his four parted smile and says: "Welcome back. I am almost done. It is good that you are back actually. I wanted to ask you, what about your face? -beep- Species detection error. Click here for main menu. -beep- don?t have

faces sooooo ... I guess that is also a sensitive area? Our?s is." Beaming smile, you can actually look into his maw.

You stare at him in bewilderment. How can this sex-god that made you cum as hard as you haven?t cum in 10 years just ask you about your fucking fur-do? All you can do is nod. This is bizarre.

He is gentle, removing your facial-fur with short, sharp scrapes and eventually declares his work done.

You don?t feel an inch of your body as he must have touched you all over, to make sure your fur is evenly trimmed and you are shorn properly. He catches you as the cuffs release your (surprisingly un-chafed) wrists and ankles and steadies you on your wobbly legs. Standing up you feel a bit like a robot, it is really weird to feel your body but not your skin.

You look down on you and can?t help but smile. Dang he did a good job. Your lift your tail and grab it, running your paws along its thick length to test how this short fur feels.

You don?t feel anything though. Bummer. It looks sexy as fuck though.

You look up at your barber and grin: "Thank you so much Wave! This is awesome. You are awesome. I hope it grows back fast because I sure as fuck want to do this again."

A mocking wolf-whistle accompanies you as you strut into Chuck?s quarters, showing off your new fur do.

After your trip to the barber had turned out to be some sort of diplomatic/fetish appointment, he had decided to stay put, doing some more research on the terminal in his new home. He did seem a bit disappointed, had probably looked forward to some off time, chatting with you while you got your fur done. But you are determined to make up for that missed opportunity. You still have the rest of the day off and you are ready to show off your new fur-style while spending some time with your buddy. You also still, more than ever probably, need that drink.

"Well he did a good job, gotta give him that. Your muscles look almost as impressive as mine now." He winks at you and flexes his biceps teasingly. "Gotta put some more work in your puppies though if you want to catch up."

Grinning you stick out your tongue and leaning back flex your perfectly defined abs. You run a paw down your washboard and retort: "Thanks, I?m fine, don?t wanna end up as fat as you."

He laughs and grabs his little pot-belly with both paws. "That?s manly you muscle queen."

"Ach, shut up fatso." That only earns you another chuckle from him and you flop down into one of the big, comfortable armchairs facing the couch he is sitting on.

"So what?s the plan? We still need to get this drink thing settled."

"Ugh, thought you?d never come back. I was so fucking bored. I am all ready to head out and explore but Walker?s been with you so ... where is he?"

"Uhm ... I don?t know? Things went ... well, I?d like if I said totally unexpected but ... Let?s just say, I was very happy that Seneca pretty much grabbed me and got me here without much delay."

Your friend chuckles deep in his broad chest. "So I guess you got off hard and afterwards were too ashamed to look anyone who watched you doing so in the eye?"

"Erm ... yea. Pretty much." Your embarrassed frown turns into a wicked smile pretty quickly though as you add: "It waaaas pretty awesome though. Didn?t know I had so much spunk saved up over seven years of just fapping and plastic dick up my ass."

"Ew ... I didn?t need to know that." He tries to look disgusted but you can tell that he is more than a little jealous. It?s been seven years without pussy for him as well. Poor guy.

"Cry-baby. I?ve been listening to your stories of allegedly bed-breaking all-weekend fucks with dozens of chicks more than once. Blarch, drippy cunts." In mock disgust you shake yourself and stick out your tongue as if you had tasted something gross.

Chuck though gets a dreamy expression on his face and sighs: "Hmmmm drippy cunts..." He chuckles and composes himself.

"Anyway ... there?s got to be chicks around here. Maybe they even have a fuckery that services big bad aliens. That?d make things easier."

"Heh, good luck surviving Seneca?s wrath if he gets wind of you forcing yourself upon alien hookers. He?ll have your fat ass in custody faster than you can say „but she wanted me to to?."

He puts his paws behind his head, and crosses his paws on the table before him. His face becomes almost serious as he reclines deeper into the rubber-like material of the sofa. "Dude. Honestly. That?d be worth it."

You laugh and mirror his position, your hind-paws comfortably placed on the table between you two.

"Don?t think it?ll have to come to that. You?re right, there?s got to be chicks here. And they might be curious enough to give you a pity-fuck."

"I am ok with that, as long as I can sink this," he grabs his sheath and gives it a loving squeeze, "into something tight and moist." Seeing your facial expression he gives a bellowing laugh and adds: "Who?s the cry-baby now?

So shall we text Walker? He said he?d take us for drinks and Einstein or Planck already discovered that one of the laws of the universe is that where?s booze, there?s easy chicks."

Already typing into your MoCo you answer without looking at him: "Your ever dutiful wingman got your back."

You don?t even have time to look up again before you see that Walker already replied. He has this thing figured out pretty quickly it seems.

"Aaand we?re live. He?s with Seneca actually." You look at your buddy in surprise. He grins at you and says: "Probably selecting pics to send home."

Your ears fold back a bit in embarrassment. "Ah shush you. Let?s bust their party then and just grab him and run. Seneca did order us to mingle. And mingling right now requires that certain alien."

Chuckles nods and is on his paws in the blink of an eye. You follow him into your ambassador?s quarters right next door to start your quest of finding your buddy his princess for a night.

It doesn?t take a lot of convincing to pry Walker out of Seneca?s diplomatic paws. The ambassador seems almost eager to have the three of you on your way. Probably promising himself new insights or just eager to take his shower, now that he had his fur trimmed as well (a small part of your brain still hopes he got ruthlessly fucked while having been shorn but you are not really mad at him. It was your own fault and it was very, very enjoyable after all).

You are leaving the tree your accommodation is located in and use a series of wobbly bridges to move towards one of the biggest trees around. Must be the city centre or something.

You still have to be careful and watch your step as you follow Walker?s long strides, the danger of plummeting to your death ever present. But your new friends confidence soon enough rubs off on you and you content yourself with gripping the handrail tightly. It is made from the same rubber-like material almost everything seems to be made of here.

With increasing security in your step you find yourself at leisure to hold a proper conversation. You are still brimming with questions after all, more now probably than this morning.

First though you have to fix something that has been bugging you for a while.

"Walker ... this might sound a bit weird, but ... do you swear? Like ... use bad words that your parents would scold you for using?"

"You mean like .... -beep- feces -beep- and -beep- Species detection error, click here for main menu. -beep- breath?"

You can?t help but laugh at that. "Yes, that is exactly what I mean. Ok, so my MoCo tries to be my mother here and translates all those words into something way more literal. I want to teach it a bit. So could you say that first word again?"

"-beep- Feces -beep-?"

"Edit." -beep- Speak after the beep -beep- "Shit." -beep- Thank you. Added to database. -beep-

"Thanks." You beam at him, this is gonna be fun. "And now, when something is really, really something, we say fucking. Like ... that is a fucking big tree." You point at said piece of vegetation.

"A -beep- intercourse -beep- big tree." Walker smiles at you in return, apparently he also enjoys this little lesson. Since ancient history the first words learned of a newly discovered language are shit, fucking, dick, tits.

"Edit." -beep- Speak after the beep -beep- "Fucking." -beep- Thank you. Added to database. -beep-

You smile to yourself as you think of Seneca discussing the alien biology and propagation with some posh scientists. He?ll just have to deal with that. You say fucking way more often than he says intercourse.

You continue this for another few minutes, Chuckles helpfully adds everyone?s favourites „tits?, „sodding?, „cunt? and „dick-drenching? to your network?s vocabulary.

"Ok, now say the name of the animal that is being shorn where ... I had my fur trimmed today."

"Shooooorn." Chuckles whispers giggling. Running gag it seems.

"-beep- Species detection error, click here for main menu. -beep-!"

"Edit." -beep- Speak after the beep -beep- "Stinkle." -beep- Thank you. Added to database. -beep- Chuckles bursts out laughing and you grin happily and proud. You just named a species. And you haven?t even seen one yet.

You enjoy yourselves and laugh like school boys and soon enough your bombard each other with questions about all kinds adolescent questions. Remembering your promise to yourself, your first question regards Chuckles: "So, do you have sexes here? No offence but you all seem to look pretty much the same to me. Being an alien and stuff."

Walker looks at you surprised but he doesn?t seem offended: "I guess I understand that. -beep- Species detection error, click here for main menu. -beep- also all look the same to me." At least you now know that he didn?t compare you to a Stinkle. You grin.

"To our eyes we of course don?t look the same. But to answer your question, my species doesn?t have sexes in the ... classical sense? Like most animals. We are uhm ... self-sufficient? But we can choose."

"You mean, you are herms?"

"I don?t understand that, sorry."

"Like ... you have a dick," you point at your sheath, "and a pussy?", you point at Chucks who smacks your arms so hard you almost fall off the bridge, clinging to the railing laughing.

"Sorry, serious. We are both male. We have dicks. A pussy is what we .... well, he sticks his dick in to make babies. Offspring."

Walker thinks about this question for a bit. Or probably about how to answer. After a few seconds of, on Charles's side anticipatory silence, he answers: "Yes and no." He looks at you, something is confusing him still.

"I have seen what -beep- He who soars the Waves -beep- did today. And you say you don?t have a pussy."

"Well sort of ..." Charles, ever supportive to the cause of confusing communication, adds grinning.

"You shot fluid out of your dick, so do we. That makes us pregnant if we want to. I assume the same goes for you?"

"Yea. Jizz ... erm.... Semen. Cum."

"Love juice, baby batter, man cream," Walker adds laughing.

You smile and agree. Guys are the same everywhere.

"But if someone were to shoot his jizz in your hole, you wouldn?t become pregnant?"

"If that were the case, dear Lutris here?d be mother of a whole battalion."

Now it?s your turn to shove Chucks hard.

"What is it there for then?"

This silences both of you. You look at each other in embarrassed confusion. Sex is all fun and games until someone farts. And Walker did just that so to speak.

"Uhm...." how to put this delicately?

"To poop and in Lutris? case to get fucked senseless."

You glare at him.

"To shit?"

"Yea. We eat, our bodies take nutrition from the food and the rest gets ... discarded. As poop."

"Oh I see. How... animalistic and wasteful."

You try not to be offended at this but you are a bit.

"Wait ... you don?t poop?

"No. We take everything we need from the food and interchange excess."

So many questions .... Where to start?

"So you only have a dick? And how do you mean interchange excess?"

Walker stops so suddenly that you face-plant into his hard back. Ouchies.

"We do have this." He says almost musingly as he bends over and spreads his cheeks with his hands, allowing you to take a good, long look at what looks to you like a perfectly smooth, clean, tasty asshole.

"Oh ye gods," Charles moans and puts a paw over his closed eyes.

"So ... that is not an asshole?" You ask.

"Well it is. A hole in my ass. We don?t poop from it though."

"Can I open my eyes again?"

Walker furrows his eye ridges (he doesn't have brows but ... those ridges). "Why wouldn?t you?" Charles just groans again at the though and you snicker. "Yea, he is not showing the goodies anymore."

"The sole purpose of that hole is to have kids. Well and to fuck of course." He grins.

"I know some animals have anuses like you and a pussy or a dick. But we don?t. So yes, I guess we are what you call herms and we do have a dick and a pussy. But not like an animal."

He looks at you almost apologetically.

"So that ... what you just showed is your pussy?" Charles asks.

"Yes, it is one of our reproductive organs."

Chucks furrows his brows. His libido obviously is confused. It totally looked like an asshole (in that split second before he managed to close his eyes). But now he is told that it actually is alien pussy.

"What about tits?"

"You mean to feed our babies? Well we got these." He points at his pecs.

"But ... that?s muscle, right?" You ask, your own hopes wavering.

"Yes, of course."

You try not to sigh in relief.

"But we can fill them with easily digestible excess from our own food to feed our kids. When they are very young."

"How do you mean, you can? This excess thing?"

He looks at you in utter confusion, like you would look at someone who asks what colour the sky is.

"The growing."

"Growing?"

By now you have reached the tree that obviously was your destination.

It is more densely packed with huts and little houses. There are lights hanging in the twigs, the branches serving as roads and pathways through the thick foliage.

You hear music and a lot of the by now well-known hissing and clicking. This indeed seems to be some sort of amusement district. The houses don?t look entirely residential, most sport huge doors, big windows, balconies with tables and sofas on them. There is aliens walking, talking and lounging everywhere.

The buildings look well aged, not as shiny and well-kept as the residential buildings and are far from being as impressive as the official buildings you have visited so far. Nothing here seems built to impress. It feels comfortable, inviting and immediately at home.

The dim light in the huge cavern and the bright lights twinkling all over the tree?s crown make this whole place look like some Mediterranean harbour town early at night, wish stars shining above.

Without the harbour. And in a tree.

The predominant colours here are green and blue, the houses mostly made from the grayish brown weeping wood, adorned with blue ornaments.

The air is thick with pretty delicious smells and hissing laughter. As far as amusement miles go, this one is pretty damn awesome.

There are more of the sexy aliens here than you have ever encountered before. And yes, you actually now spot what seems like couples and little mini aliens. Those mini aliens do look child-like, being softer and chubbier and of course smaller than their parents.

You nudge Chucks and try to point discretely, he is way ahead of you though. He already spotted the milk heavy tits on one of the moms, gently swinging in front of ... her strong, lean body. He smiles like an idiot and a look at his sheath confirms that he is indeed happy about what he sees here. It is definitely thicker than it was just a few minutes ago.

Here they are at last then, the not precisely female but female looking part of this city?s population.

You see small groups of them standing and sitting around, enjoying food and, or drinks in front one of the various bars. Some are accompanied by tit-less aliens, those who you still refer to as male, even though now you know that there is not really a difference. Kids seem to be highly

optional though for having tits, most women here are on an evening out, without kids or other bothersome attachments.

Some aliens just sit in the „streets? in small groups, comfortably leaning against the tree?s massive trunk, and enjoy their early evening.

You feel your own sheath throb alarmingly as you look at all this naked flesh, muscles tensing and relaxing, butts wiggling, thick, massive thighs rubbing against each other. Your exhibitionism doesn?t really make it any easier to contain yourself, you almost want to stand around here with your dripping boner out. Not just almost. You want to. But you also don?t want to. You close your eyes and sigh.

"Are you alright, Lutris?" Walkers proud mien threatens to turn to worried but you are quick to smile at him and reassure him that you are indeed a lot better than just alright. Chuckles seems on the verge to exploding from excitement, positively hopping from one paw to the other, ready to storm off into the night.

Your friend visibly relaxes, his face and stance all proud again. He sure enjoys seeing both of you so impressed by what his city, his species and his planet have to offer.

He grins and leads you towards one of the lower tiers of the tree. Little stairs and walkways between the branches bring you to your destination quickly. Your awe and the noise around you rendering the continuation of your conversation impossible. Who cares about weird growing things when there is so much alien flesh (and well, the architecture and the whole alien place, too) to marvel at.

Walker ushers you into one of the shabbier places around, waving and hissing greetings to people he knows. Of course you immediately the centre of attention, Walker?s impressive physique swelling even more from pride. It is he who is showing the awe-struck aliens around, getting to talk to them and having them talk to him.

Everyone in here eyes you curiously but politeness and maybe just a little bit of fear stops them to actually form a ring around your small, merry band and outright stare.

You overhear some thrown conversation and jibes between Walker and some others and quickly identify this particular establishment as a favoured hangout for the local military. Though most people here are male, you also see a few females, relaxing with their brothers in arms and matching their drinking slug by slug.

Walker all but pushes you on a bench, or rather rubbery sofa, in one of the corners. Walking is really, really tough when you have so much staring of your own to do. The corner proves a well chosen spot, mostly but not entirely out of view. That gives most of the patrons a little break from trying and failing not to stare at you and you are left in some sort of peace here.

As soon as the both of you are firmly planted on your asses he darts off again, probably to fetch your drinks.

"Holy shit, mate...," you whisper under your breath.

Chucks continues staring and only nods. This is indeed something else.

Before long Walker returns, holding three thin bottles between his three-fingered hands. He puts one in front of each of you and sits down with a sigh next to Chuckles.

He looks at you expectantly, holding his own bottle in his hand, ready to drink, obviously waiting for you to join him.

"Sorry mate but ... Safety first."

Almost embarrassed you punch some commands in your MoCo and scan the beverage provided.

Chucks leans over to look at your display and soon lets out a loud sigh of relief. There is gonna be recreational drugs today. You grin at each other happily.

What you are about to enjoy is not alcohol. It seems to be some light, organic solution, similar to MDMA but by far not as strong.

That shit is illegal but hey, you are on a mission here and it?d be like totally impolite to not have one or tw.... ten of those.

Grinning you take your flask, that looks more like a test tube with a pretty narrow opening. You raise it to salute your new friend.

He doesn?t seem to care about that though and as soon as he sees that you?ll be ok with drinking this he brings the flask in front of his mouth and darts his tongue out and into the narrow opening.

Both of you, again, stare in shock and awe.

This is the first time you see the alien?s tongue. It is tubular, apparently very long and hollow. Like a butterfly?s proboscis or more plainly, a straw. You hear the universal slurping sound of a straw straining to milk a few more drops from an empty soda can.

Oblivious to your astonishment he is determined to get all of the stuff inside of him as quickly as possible. When he is satisfied he lifts his head again and beams at you.

When he sees your faces, his expression falters.

"What? Not good?"

"Yes! No. Yes! I don?t know. Sorry. Didn?t try yet. I haven?t seen your tongue before. It?s just different from what I expected I guess. Sorry."

He just hisses his hissing chuckle and waves your embarrassment away.

"Don?t worry. We?re still getting to know each other. Look all you want." He opens his mouth a bit again and sticks out his tongue for you to marvel at.

It is at least 15 cm long and he is not even trying yet. It is indeed a muscular tube, rings running around it?s length, obviously designed to transport liquids against gravity. With a startling slurp he pulls it back in after a few seconds and grins at you with sparkling eyes.

"Now you!"

Uh... fair is fair you guess. It is a bit embarrassing but you stick out your short, round tongue and wiggle it around a bit. Chuckles does the same, looking at you from the corner of his eye, and tries to push his tongue out further than you.

Soon the three of you are laughing again as the tongue showing turns into a hilarious battle for the longer tongue, both Otters straining hard, leaning forward as if that?d help. Chuckles actually tries to win by pulling his tongue of his maw with his paw.

"Chheeder!" You yell and start laughing at how dumb that sounds with your tongue stuck so far out of your muzzle.

Walker laughs with you but ends this sorry display of competition quickly by shooting out his tongue a good 30 cm right between your faces.

"I win," he grins. "And winner gets another drink. And you guys drink up, there?s a lot more where that came from."

You pant a bit from this silly exercise but are just too happy to obey. As walker hurries off to get the second round you raise your little bottle in toast: "To us, buddy. And to this shit-pebble, that so far seems pretty awesome."

"Hear, hear!," He replies and quickly downs his drink like a shot.

It tastes good, a little bitter, a little sweet, like a well-rounded cocktail shot. You kind of miss the spreading warmth usually accompanying spirits on their way down your throat but after what your MoCo told you, you?re sure that the ride awaiting you will be more than compensating.

By the third round you are reclined deeply into the sofa?s comfortable rubber-like cover and all but cuddle with chuckles. Your brain feels warm and fuzzy and you love every second of you being here. You love your brother, you love Walker, you love this table and this bar and you love this planet and your new fur-style.

You are fucking high. And you love it.

Chuckles is just as relaxed as you are, his arm almost protectively wrapped around your shoulders, his knee on the seat.

Walker doesn?t seem as affected by the drug as you guys are but then again, since you first met he?s been the one acting uninhibited and carefree all the time. He showed you his asshole for heaven?s sake. Maybe he?s high all the time? Maybe they all are? Doesn?t matter now, if he is, good for him. You would definitely not mind doing this more often.

After comparing your tongues you spend a good time, comparing other parts and properties of your bodies. With Walker being who he is and you two being high as kites it of course doesn?t take long for the conversation to circle back to one of your favourite topics: dick, love muscle, spunk dispenser, knob, cum hose, trouser snake. After comparing pretty much every aspect of your bodies it is only logical to eventually remark on his lack of visible genitalia.

"Soooo, earlier you said that you?ve got a dick. Where is it?"

"Oh when we don?t have sex we shrink it back and it is protected inside," He spreads his legs and points at his groin. "It is pretty much located where yours is but it looks different. Wanna see?" "Yes." - You.

"No!" - Chuckles.

Walker looks a bit confused at both of you. "So, ... maybe?"

You look at Chucks and give him a wide grin. "Come on. You don?t have to look if you don?t want to. It?s for science!"

He rolls his eyes and sighs: "Yeah right, science. Damn faggot."

You ram your elbow into his ribs but don?t stop grinning. The prospect of dick in the immediate future elevates your drug addled spirits even more.

To Walker he manages a little weak smile and says: "Well go on then, for science. I need to piss anyway, „Scuse me."

Seeing him leave on unsteady paws, actually makes you feel a bit bad, after all you promised yourself to be his wingman today and get him something to get his rocks off. After this though. This is science after all.

"What?s his problem? He doesn?t like looking at me, unlike you. Doesn?t he like me?" Walker asks you as soon as Chuck is out of earshot.

"No, really. But ..."

Ugh how do you explain hetero- and homosexuality and the stupid refusal of oh so straight guys to even look at a dick to an alien species that has only one gender and seems at all times to be ready to show relative strangers their assholes?

You decide, for now, to chicken out. This is just too much of a socio-cultural paradigm to explain with (by now) 4 shots of MDMA partying through your bloodstream.

"I really don?t know how to explain that now. I will though, if you want. Later. It is just too much for now and I don?t want to spoil this evening. Just trust me, he does like you and has nothing against you. He is just a bit uncomfortable around other penises. OK?"

This eases his mind and he visibly relaxes again.

"So, wanna see my dick?" He seems almost excited about it. Then again, so are you.

"Hell yea!"

He leans back and spreads his legs a bit further, allowing you a good look at his still smooth groin. You try (and have tried earlier but more discreet) hard to see a genital slit but there is none. For a few seconds, nothing happens. But then you gasp as the skin under the shiny layer of slime seems to melt. The incredibly smooth surface ripples and to your amazement bulges outwards to grow into something like a cock.

There is no genital slit, his very skin (or more specifically the flesh, or organ under it) grows bigger by the second to form his penis. You stare transfixed totally oblivious to the absurdity of you sitting in a bar with a friend and now looking at an alien popping a boner.

After twenty seconds or so the growth stops and Walker now sports an erection of about 5" length. It is pretty thick, you think. You would probably not be able to wrap your paw around it entirely. It doesn?t have a glans or veins or anything, it is just a flesh-tube with 6 holes on the rounded top. It looks like an almost perfect cylindrical, smooth, pre-lubed dildo without any features.

After the growing stops and he looks at your smiling and a bit proud. You can?t help but feel disappointed. These aliens are huge and have five inch dicks? What a bummer.

"That?s ... it?" You ask, immediately regretting it. What an impolite thing to say. Fucking drugs. Making you almost as uninhibited as Walker is himself.

He is not in the least offended though. "How do you mean? Do you have more than one? I?ve seen only one on you earlier."

You wish, but that is not what you mean.

"No, I mean ... you are like huge, way taller than us and I ... expected ...," holy shit this is embarrassing and rude. "I kinda expected it to be. Bigger?"

For a second he just looks at you with wide eyes, too surprised to say anything. Then his four parted mouth rips open and he laughs heartily.

"Oh no .. I just wanted to show you what it looks like. I can make it as long as I, or my partner, wants. Actually the longer it is, the higher the chance of pregnancy. Look!" He points at his groin again and to your astonishment you see how more and more skin seems to flow towards his groin, feeding the growth of the soon very impressive rod. Inch after inch of dick pours from his body, gaining in girth to match the length. Soon the flesh tower reaches well above the table, so thick that you couldn't encircle it with both of your paws.

Walker giggles at your amazement and eventually stops pushing even more cock out of his body.

The six-holed tip is at level with his massive pecs by now as if he wanted to give himself a proper muscle-tit fuck.

"Ok," he pants. "Theoretically I could do more but I don?t have enough excess at the moment."

The whole process seems to have exhausted him somewhat and he flops against the backrest, his massive fuck-stick smacking against his chest with a lewd, wet plop.

You can?t believe what you see, your eyes glued to the massive, inhuman appendage and suddenly wince in pain.

You realize that your own erection just hit the underside of the table, straining to topple it over. This snaps you back to reality, at least your brain tries to focus back on reality, flooded as it is with drugs and lust.

You shake your head and try to clear your head.

"Ok ... Wow! That is ... amazing ..." You feel like jizzing right here, right now just from looking at that. You need a glass of water. Or a bucket. A bucket of very cold water. With ice cubes.

He chuckles. "Did you like that?"

Your muzzle is a perfect O and your eyes are still wide in wonder as you look at him and just breath: "Fuck yea, did I like that. That was unbelievable."

With each word spoken his rod shrinks back into his body. It doesn?t deflate or go flaccid like yours would, it just ... disappears into his body again, the skin rippling like water that you threw a stone into.

"How do you mean unbelievable? You did that too. So We kind of work the same way in that aspect, right?"

"Uh well ... yes and no." The questions and the inter-species confusion starts again and your own disappointed Otter-meat starts inching back into it?s fuzzy pouch once again. Right in time because you see Chucks re-emerging from the crowd to join you again.

He gives you a questioning look with slightly tilted head as if to ask you if you enjoyed the show.

You just shake your head, grin and say: "You wouldn?t believe it. He just asked me if we could make our dicks longer."

This elicits an amused grunt from your buddy. "Ha. I wish."

Turning to Walker you say: "Our ... equipment has two states." You point at Chucks sheath just as he is seating himself next to walker, on your far end of the sofa.

"That is flaccid. Dicks being so sensitive and everyting they are protected by a sheath when we don?t use it. When we get hard, they grow out. It fills with blood to get hard. Ready to fire so to say ... but ... yea, we only have so much dick. We can?t grow like that." You point at Walker?s now empty and smooth groin.

Chucks looks at you, one eyebrow raised inquisitively, but you only mouth the word "later".

"Hold on." You furrow your brows. Something he said earlier returns to you and hits you in the face. He said, they grow boobs to feed their young with this excess thing. The same excess thing he apparently lacked to make his dick even bigger just now.

"Can you do that to your entire body? This growing?"

"Yes, of course. You can?t? Just your dick?"

"Uh ... no, we can?t. All of you can do that?"

"Naturally! What a shame for you. It must be really frustrating. To not be able to change your body?"

Wow, now you don?t feel bad anymore about saying that his dick was small. That was rude. But sadly, true.

You just stare at him with your muzzle hanging open.

Chuckles looks pretty confused, having missed the show earlier (on purpose) he hasn?t made the connection yet that you just made.

Better to show him than to explain though, you think and so you ask: "Can you grow boobs?" Knowing your buddy?s taste you add: "Like really big? Like ... you know ..." You hold your paws a good 15 inches away from your chest, indicating some huge tits.

"Well I don?t know if I have enough for that big but ..."

He reclines back again, squaring his shoulders against the backrest and now what happened to his crotch earlier, happens to his chest.

Starting from his tiny nipples, the skin starts rippling like water and then bulge outwards.

Extra mass is pushed into the forming and quickly swelling tits, his chest looking softer and more feminine by the second.

"Holy ..." Chuck whispers, his eyes wide with wonder.

Walker doesn?t pay him any attention, too focused on pushing more and more "excess" biomass into his swelling bosom. After only a few seconds you can?t call this mass of flesh pecs anymore, two very sizable, soft looking mammaries have formed on his chest.

He started panting a bit, obviously this exercise is quite exhausting. But that doesn?t stop him. He is too proud of what he can do. More than happy to show off what he can do and you can?t, he closes his eyes and strains to force more and more mass into his by now massive tits.

You notice that the rest of his body deflates bit by bit as all the volume is pushed into his chest pillows.

When the growing finally stopped his whole body seems to have changed. With so much biomass redistributed towards the chest, the rest of his frame looks, even though still muscular, more lithe, more feminine.

".... Shit." Chuck finishes his thought from what seems an hour ago.

Even after what you have seen before you can?t help but be impressed again. This is an even more impressive demonstration of his species? morphic abilities than that massive dick earlier. His whole body looks different!

Despite what he said earlier, Walker now sports a pair of big, wobbly tits, that only sag slightly. Chuck could hold one of them in both paws and there would still be plenty of titflesh spilling out of his palms.

Your buddy is hypnotized, his tongue hangs out of his muzzle and his eyes are filled with longing and desire. You really feel sorry for him.

Walker smiles at you proudly and says: "Looks like I could make them big. Had to draw on some reserves but here you go." Looking at Chuck and noticing his enchantment, he asks: "Do you like this?"

Unable to speak, or lift his gaze off of those deliciously looking melons, he just nods.

"Lutris also really liked my penis. You seem to really like my breasts. Is this what you meant earlier today, when you said that you don?t want to mate with each other and need a female? Is this what females look like?"

Again, Chuck only nods.

"And you don?t like females?" He asks, looking at you.

You smile and shake your head. "Nope, guys all the way for me." You wink at Walker and point at Chuck with your thumb. "But you made him very happy. Hasn?t seen a pair of those in the plentiful flesh in seven years. Uh ... that would be 21 years ... full orbits around your star for you."

"Holy fuck! 21 years? Without sex?"

You see pity creep into Walker?s eyes and Chucks seems at the verge of tears.

Walker turns to your best friend and asks: "Do you want to touch them? Would that be sexually stimulating to you?"

This finally rips his attention and his gaze off of that softly shuddering boobflesh.

Without answering he extends his paws, looking at Walker as if unsure about this permission , but also unable to stop himself.

He gropes one of the heavily swinging jugs with each of his paws.

He closes his eyes and moans deep in his chest.

You decide that this is a good moment to take your leave, having performed your wingman duties well, if somewhat unintentional.

Chucks is hot but you want to spare him the embarrassment to cream himself while you?re watching. He did you the same courtesy earlier today.

Because Chuck seems totally lost in caressing and exploring the bountiful chest under his paws, you just thank Walker and tell him you hope to see him tomorrow and slip out of your corner.

Like the red sea, the mass of aliens in the bar part before you and a bit insecure, smiling left and right, you head on home.

Hopefully you?ll find home, high as you are.

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