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Major Caldwell was an imposing man. The wheelchair wasn't going to stop that; if anything he looked more like a man grown angry at his twenty odd years behind a desk rather than complacent. A man who looked itching for a fresh out of boot grunt to make a chairforce joke. Gabriel didn't think he'd be comfortable with the guy at a Christmas party, let along sitting opposite his desk in handcuffs.

“Let's see here...” Major Caldwell started as his fingers tapped at a few keys. “Rowe, Gabriel. Born in Houston, Texas; graduated high school at thirteen...” The major smirked as he continued to scroll down “...bachelor's in Computer Science at seventeen. I gotta admit, I'm almost impressed!” Another time Gabriel might have smirked at the 'almost' comment, he always did like reminding people he was smarter than them, especially when it came to computers. The handcuffs around his wrists easily choked out any sort of clever quip he may have had. “But here we go...” Major Caldwell continued. “Arrested at eighteen years and twenty one days old, for attempting to siphon two hundred thousand dollars from the EPA. You know, for a bright kid like you, it's pretty damn stupid to think that a couple VPNs to China and Iran would throw us off the fact that the money was thrown into an American bank account under the name of your recently deceased uncle; my condolences by the way.”

“Thanks...” Gabe said, looking back down at the cuffs around his wrists. He never imagined they'd be so tight. He could feel the steel slowly cutting its way into his skin like a saw, a saw that needed to hurry the fuck up.

“So...” Major Caldwell continued, cracking his knuckles as he raised his hands from the keyboard. “You do realize the severity of your crimes right? Theft of value over five hundred dollars counts as a felony. Theft from the federal government places this across state lines; making this a federal crime. I gotta say, for a kid who never even got detention this is quite the jump up!” Major Caldwell smirked again, the kind of shit eating grin that would be called insubordination were he not a Major, now it just served as a reminder as to who was in control of the situation. “Don't look so surprised I know that. Your public school records aren't exactly a deep secret.”

Gabriel nodded.

“So....what happens now?” He asked, trying to sound calm and collected; like some badass from an action film who's planned his escape so far ahead the only thing on his mind now is what to get for dinner. Any attempt at that took a hit when Gabe's voice cracked, not a Stallone move.

“What happens now is you have a choice, and if you're as smart as we both know you are, you'll make the right one.” Gabriel nodded, deep in his head he thought of some badass quip he would give, something that would either make the major laugh or shake him to the core. Something to level the playing field, but all his words felt like rusted iron being dragged up his throat, getting caught before they could reach his tongue, so instead he just nodded. “The way it is now you're either facing fifteen to twenty years in federal prison, your best years and the world passing you by while you sit in the same eight by eight box.” The Major let the silence hang in the air, waiting for Gabe to ask about the alternative, all the while that silence choking Gabriel like a miasma. He nearly had to purge the words out, that rusted iron fear tearing his throat as he finally did ask...

“Or?”

“Or, you sign up with us, you go away for a year on a vital mission. All expenses paid, all records wiped clean, plus a cushy paycheck waiting for you at the end of it.”

“What's the mission?”

Major Caldwell wheeled himself out from behind his desk, the same way able bodied commanders would stand and circle whoever was lucky enough to be client side their desk, like a shark going in for the kill. Despite the Major's inability to walk the effect remained the same. “I'm going to assume you're aware of our contact with the Vulpins?”

“Isn't everybody?” Major Caldwell laughed, a gruff laugh that matched his exterior to a T.

“Christ! It's odd to think isn't it? I mean just thirty years ago when we got that first message; it was all over. Every station, every country running coverage twenty-four/seven! Now? Christ now it's normal!” There was a twinge of sadness in the Major's voice, like a kid finding out Santa was just his parents pulling an extra shift or two to get some presents under the tree. He shook his head and dragged his gruff exterior back up. “But that is normal to you isn't it son? Crazy to think someone was born post contact.” Gabe nodded. All his life contact with the Vulpins had been just ticker tape or fluff bits. Our far out neighbors who we sometimes exchanged messages with.

“Yes Sir!”

“Well we're about to make history again, son!” Gabriel waited for him to continue, much like how Major Caldwell waited for Gabriel to ask him how. The stalemate of silence hung in the air for a minute, the cuffs on Gabe's wrists feeling all the tighter until finally the Major broke the silence. “First contact. Real contact. Face to face, and I want you to spearhead that mission!”

“What's the catch?” The major smirked.

“The 'catch' is that this will be the furthest we've ever sent a manned Space Craft, The satellite you'd inhabit would be a year out from the nearest Orbit point before you can safely return and well frankly we have no idea what they look like and how they are biologically!”

“You've been talking to them for twenty years and you have zero clue what they even look like?!”

“They never sent a Polaroid.” The major laughed.

“And you never asked them?” The major shrugged.

“It never came up, to be fair they have no clue what we look like either. Hell two Vulpins could be having this exact conversation word for word!” The major continued. “But hey, 90% chance it goes off without a hitch. We get a lovely little cultural exchange with a fellow genius, make history. You get all your records cleared and come back to Earth with a year's worth of back pay. What do you say?” Gabriel sighed, when the Major put it that way it didn't sound horrible, at least not as horrible as up to twenty years in a federal prison.

“Sure, what the hell.” Major Caldwell smiled as he wheeled himself back over to Gabe, pulling out a key from his pocket.

“Training starts at 0600.” The Major said as he unlocked Gabriel's cuffs. “Welcome aboard Specialist Rowe!” Caldwell extended his hand. “We're gonna do some great stuff together, you and I!”

**

BANG! BANG! BANG! The gentle raps on his door sounded like thunder overhead. Like all the Gods had seen his misery and decided to rain on his funeral, one last insult to injury. Prince Lucas Vulpin the Third was hungover, it was scant noon and already the sun's brilliant rays were piercing his curtains, and to top it off that fucking banging on his door!

“I'm COMING!” The Prince barked as as he slide from his bed, bare foxen feet landing on the lush soft carpet of his bedroom as he padded to the door. The knocking had ceased but Lucas could still hear the shallow breathes of the slave on the other side of the door. He ran a finger over one of his claw, perfectly sharp enough to tear through the flesh of the slave-folk. Lucas grinned as he reached for the door handle. Despite his pounding head and the aching in his bowels he was awakened for a good reason. Be that reason for matters of state, or just getting to see a slave bleed out in the hallway. Pupils dilating as the soft, furless thing reaches for it's throat to try and staunch the bleeding. Lucas' tail wagged as he pulled the door back, nearly ready to swipe for the slave's throat before he could even hear the message.

“Good....Good Morning Master Lucas!” Chiron said from beyond the threshold. Lucas sighed as he curled his paw into a fist. Of course the others would know to send Chiron. They were cleverer than the looks nature gave them. Lucas sighed.

“Good morning, Dearest Chiron. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Your Father, King Adam Vulpin IV, wishes to speak with you!”

“I know my father's name, Chiron!”

“Oh...of, of course Master Lucas!” The slave said as he bowed his head. Lucas smiled as he saw Chrion bend his head deeper before him. Lucas could never truly find the malice he had for the rest of the slave folk for Chiron. Perhaps it was their bonding as pups, where the furless served as his whipping boy! Perhaps it was the look Chiron gave Lucas. Chiron's eyes were one of the few of the slaves that didn't hold malice for Lucas, those eyes never betrayed thoughts of strangling the Prince as he slept, or poisoning his wine. Though perhaps Chiron was just a great liar. That thought made Lucas' grin grow wider. His clever little whipping boy, just waiting for the right moment to strike. Not that he would ever get it. Lucas was after all, “as sly as a fox” and the Prince had zero plans to be anything but a fox.

“Very well, dear Chiron, I shall go see my father!” By the time he had said this, the slave was already on his hands and knees, kissing Lucas' toes. “Now stand up! You're not free of transgressions yourself dear, Chiron!” He could see the slave wince at what the Prince demanded, but Chiron followed through, standing up and spreading his legs, exposing his long gelded groin. Lucas placed his paws on Chiron's shoulders. “Do have a good morning dear, Chiron!” Lucas said as he reeled his left leg back, swinging it forward, connecting the knee with Chiron's cock.

The slave let out a small whimper as he collapsed to his knees. Were Lucas in a worse mood he may not have granted this mercy so early, but his whipping boy's doe eyes were hard to resist. He patted the salve on his head, the one place their kind had fur; at least for fifty or so years. “Oh don't look so sad, that's nothing compared to the Wrath of Bacchus I'm facing! Now come help me get dressed, father will have both our heads if I arrive in the throne room naked again!”

Lucas arrived in the Throne Room of his father dressed in only the lightest of silks, his feet still bare as he walked into the grand hall. Normally the grand throne room would match the most bustling of markets. Banner men arguing amongst themselves, slaves carrying trays of fine foods and finer wines, diplomats from Lupinia, Ursin, Cervin and more all come to swear fealty to the nation of Vulpin. Now, however the Throne Room was void of all that commotion and instead Lucas' father sat silently on his throne. His feet clad in heavy boots, a gift from the Lupin, lay on the back of Demeter, King Adam's own whipping boy, though “boy” could no longer describe the pudgy slave, free of nearly all duty besides companionship to the King. The King was looking down at a magazine, some sort of sensationalist print. “I don't care if you spend your evenings drinking and whoring!” King Adam began before tossing the magazine at Lucas' feet. He and two friends adorned the cover. “But I will NOT have it brought to the public eye!” Lucas could only stifle a laugh.

“Did you rehearse that all morning, Father?” King Adam growled as he rested his chin on his paw, exhaling with exasperation.

“Ten thousand gald spent on wine in one night! Two dead slaves of two different pub owners trampled to death and over a dozen witnesses claiming you and your friends had a slave fellate you in exchange for his life!” A light bulb went off in Lucas' head. He did remember the slave he had fellate him for mercy, a cute slave, reminded him on Chiron in a way.

“Ah yes, him....er....whatever his name was! Do the witnesses know where he is? I'm sure we could use an extra pair of hands around here anyways!” King Adam leaned back in his throne, his heels digging into Demeter.

“I had him executed this morning for matters of treason.”

“A shame.”

“I'd tell you that you could have saved his life had you just brought him home, but I doubt that bothers you in the least does it?” Lucas grinned as he shook his head.

“Now did you call me here just to lecture me, Father? I do have prayers of repentance to make to Bacchus after all!”

“And may he grant you a long, enduring punishment for the shame you've caused us! But I do have another reason for summoning you, one of utmost importance.” King Adam leaned back in his throne before continuing. “I'm going to trust that my son is familiar with our contact with the Terrans, by the Gods I've spent a fortune educating you.”

“Yes Father, I know about our mysterious benefactors beyond the stars!” Lucas' tongue as always had a sarcastic bite to it, the dismissive attitude of a careless spoiled youth.

“I should hope you do not not use that tone with the Terrans!”

“Oh? Am I to host them?” Lucas grinned as he let out a long, boisterous bow “say it and it shall be done Father! The finest restaurants, our arts, our....”

“Just one Terran, and you will not be hosting them!” Lucas grinned. This was going to be easier than he had thought. A few dinners, a play or two. Back in the good graces before he could blink. “Our contact with the Terrans has advanced our technological progress ten fold!” King Adam seemed to say out of nowhere as he held up a hand towards Lucas, a preemptive strike of 'silence.' “Because of them, we have seen ourselves reach the stars; and now they wish to meet among those stars, and you are to act as our emissary!”

“You do realize I am not Noah or Jasmine, yes father?”

“Believe me, Lucas, I realize it all too well.” King Adam sighed. “But your brother and sister have their duties. Duties that they have not skirted as you have. You will NOT skirt this duty I give you.” Lucas rolled his eyes.

“And whatever shall you do should I skirt this duty dear father? Dock my allowance again?” Lucas grinned as he stretched cracking his knuckles He could see the fury boiling in his father's eyes and expected the old fox to raise his voice. To scream with all the thunder and fury of the Gods about what an ungrateful and belligerent kit he was. His father responded with silence as he stood up, not shooing away Demeter, but standing full force, pressing his his booted paws into the man's back. King Adam took a deep breath as he placed a booted foot on Demeter's head, the man's arms and legs thrashing and kicking as the King began to press down on his whipping boy's skull.

The sound of cracking bones echoed throughout the Hall as King Adam continued to press his boot down on the whimpering, struggling slave, until finally it all ceased. With one last sickening crack, the thrashing arms, and the whimpers, all ceased and King Adam stand atop a corpse. “That was a slave I loved, a slave I cared for and called a friend for over forty years.” King Adam sank back into his throne, letting Lucas get a good look at the crushed head that was once Demeter. “Imagine what I will do to yours should you disobey me. Now begone, pack your bags and prepare to earn your keep around here!” Lucas bit his tongue as he turned to stomp out of the throne room. By the Gods his father could at least know his frustrations “and send someone in here to clean this up!”

**

“So you nervous?” The voice of Major Caldwell asked over the radio. It had been the first voice 2nd Lieutenant Gabriel Rowe had heard since the launch countdown an hour ago.

“You're asking me that now? AFTER the launch, Caldwell?” Gabe could hear the Major laughing on the other end.

“Hey watch it, kid. You might be commissioned now but I'm still your CO!”

“What you gonna court martial me? I won't be back on Earth for a year.”

“I've got a good memory Lt. Rowe! In fact I might just write it down to be sure!” Gabe laughed at that one.

“So what can I do for you, Major?”

“Just calling to make sure the launch didn't vaporize your insides, Rowe!”

“Isn't that what the year in Gyro was supposed to ensure? Or did you just like watching me throw up?”

“You know that information is classified Lieutenant! I do however have some new information on your Vulpin roommate though!” Gabe flipped through the readings. Five minutes out from the breach, officially passing the furthest known human reaches of space.

“All ears, Major, you got five minutes!”

“Looks like you'll be rooming with royalty Lieutenant Rowe, the youngest son of the Vulpin Royal family. So be on your best behavior!”

“Aren't I always?” Gabe said with a grin. He could hear the Major snort over the radio.

“You've never been around royalty have you?”

“And you have?”

“Back talking a superior! That's a court martial!” Gabe could hear the smile in the Major's voice. “For the record I have, English, Saudi, Qatari, Danish! The list goes on and on, and I've always been able to find a common ground on them all.”

“And that is, Sir?”

“They all think they're better than you, in some shade or another, just grit your teeth and bare it!”

“So that's what the six months with you was for!”

“And another bullet point for the court martial Lieutenant! You approaching the membrane?”

“Yeah, thirty seconds out!”

“Godspeed, Lieutenant!”

“You know I don't believe in God, Major!”

“It's a turn of phrase Godam-” The broadcast cut, Gabe had pushed through the membrane. He laughed as he flicked off his radio. The membrane was what the science team had called the point of lost two way radio contact, a point further beyond anything they could have calculated in their plans for long range two wave frequencies.

“Guess I'll be doing all the talking now! Well me and this Prince of Vulpin!” The membrane's frequency intrusions were only one way, at least according to the science team. Gabe had no real reason to doubt them, they had designed all the needed tech to broadcast messages back to both Earth and Vulpin. That's if the tech they designed worked. If that didn't work, who's to say their non perishable sealing and hydroponics cycles would? Who was even to say if the station made it this far out after launch! That'd be an interesting way to die, drifting in space looking for the goddamn objective! Gabe kept these thoughts relegated to the back of his mind, his time in training had taught him how to keep a lot relegated back there, to the point that the only real dominant thought regarding not finding the station was. So what? Just exit the ship and freeze to death, a swift sixty seconds over and done. Before he could even start to entertain those thoughts, the station made itself known. A slowly drifting thing, rotation perfectly aligned with the rotations of both planets. A long capsule the length of a single floor of an apartment block with satellite lenses attached to the sides, acting as drift assistance, broadcast panel and solar converter all in one. Before long Gabe's ship was connected to the Northern Dock of the station, the wooshing sound of air pressures equalizing before the shuttle doors opened and he walked onto the station. Walked, that was a good sign! Gravity fields were working, no reason to believe nothing else should. “Well I am breathing.” He muttered to himself, nearly smacking himself on the head for how thick he was not to realize that. Of COURSE hydroponics are working, he'd be a corpse otherwise!

Gabe patrolled the rest of the station making sure everything was in order. The oxygen reserves, solar generators, orbital drift, and broadcasting equipment, all a-ok. “Jesus, they actually managed it!” He hadn't expected such a smooth arrival to the station, in fact part of him didn't expect to arrive at all, yet here he was with everything going near perfectly. He collapsed into one of the beds and awaited the arrival of his bunk mate.

Chiron had cried when he heard the news! That adorable little idiot actually had tears streaking his face when the news of Lucas' obligation reached those ears. “Can't I come with you?” He begged, his lower abdomen and chest still red from the trampling. Lucas shook his head, his tail swishing, he never thought he'd get such a reaction out of his slave with this news.

“No, father forbade it!” This made the boy sob all the more, throwing himself at Lucas' feet, kissing the Prince's toes as he begged,

“Please, Master Lucas! I promise I will be good!” The slave repeated between kisses on Lucas' toes, eventually boring the Vulpin prince, leading to a foot connecting with Chiron's chin, sending him stumbling back.

“Please do shut up!” Lucas said dismissively, “Your incessant whining is making my ears bleed!” He said, strutting over to where his slave lay flat on his ass, he crouched down; looking Chiron in the eye. “I'll be back in a year!”

“Ho-how long is that?”

Lucas shrugged, he had no idea how to quantify it to the slave. “Over before you know it; and fret not. Father is in the market for a new footstool, so you'll have plenty of Vulpin toes to squirm under!” Chiron wiped a tear from his eye, daring to even smile a bit. “That's a good boy, now stand up; your nethers aren't bruised enough for my liking!”

Lucas had slept on the space flight to the station. The Vulpin Starreacher's had designed a self piloting ship, at much tax payer expense, to carry the young Prince to delegate with the humans. The entirety of the livable space aboard the titanic ship consisted of a modest bedroom and a refrigeration unit carrying at least a years support of wine. If Lucas had to leave behind his toys, he would be damned sure to take his wine with him. The entirety of the flight would be recalled as a dream upon silken sheets for the Vulpin Prince, until the docking alarm lightly roused him from his sleep. “Fifteen minutes until you dock, get ready!” His fathers voice said over the ship's intercom. Of course his father would be the one to record the message for him to wake up and get groomed. Lucas stretched in the custom made bed, almost sorry the construct would only see use on his arrival and return from the station. Perhaps he could keep it, a gift bed for Chiron perhaps. Lucas grinned as he curled his toes, looking at the pedicure Chiron had given.

“Fourteen Minutes until you dock, get ready!” His father's voice boomed out over the intercom once again, causing Lucas to jump up and look at the speaker in the corner of the room. He wouldn't! His father couldn't be that anal and controlling. Lucas waited.

“Thirteen Minutes until you dock, get ready!” His father's voice boomed again.

“Oh for fuck sake!” Lucas forced himself out of bed, getting dressed in his regal adornments for the meeting. A Blue waistcoat with gold trimmings, brown pants and deer hide leather boots. The costume was modeled after what the great Vulpin generals had worn in their conquest of the planet nearly 200 years ago. Of course Lucas' version of the adornments were much lighter and softer to wear, not to mention vastly more extravagant. The blues and golds shone brighter than any Vulpin general's uniform, and the boots had softer insoles perfectly carved to the shape of his feet. He approached the airlock door, waiting for his ship to dock.

“Twelve Minutes until you dock, get ready!” This was going to be a long flight.

The hiss of air across the bulkhead was the sweetest music to Lucas' ears. Twelve long minutes standing and staring at the airlock door, all the while his father's voice echoing throughout the ship; reminding him of how long he had until dock. Perhaps it was just Lucas' imagination but the voice sounded more and more smug each time it was broadcast across the ship. Lucas strode down the umbilical connecting his air lock to the station's airlock; finally able to be alone with his thoughts. Before he got half way across the umbilical a creature came jogging out of the other airlock towards him. It was about a foot shorter than Lucas dressed in a green jumpsuit with foreign characters he couldn't read and it looked....could it be? No fur, pale flesh, coming to greet him! By the Gods it was a slave! Lucas silently thanked the Gods as he looked over the creature approaching him.

“Hi I'm...”

“Yes yes! I have a few cases of wine in my ship! Do fetch them....please?” Lucas said, strolling past the slave as he went to enter the station proper. This would make his stay here much easier! Did the slave belong to the station? Maybe he belonged to the Terran. He wondered if there were other slaves around the station. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad. Lucas walked into the lounge; sitting at one of the tables as he waited for the slave to deliver his wine.

“Just do what he says.” Gabe muttered to himself in a mock of Major Caldwell's voice. “He's royalty!” He hoped his bunk mate wouldn't be such an insufferable prick this whole time. Gabe heaved a few boxes of wine into his arms, trotting them down back across the umbilical. The wine boxes weren't too hard to trot across; Caldwell had put Gabe's formerly doughy body through the runner in boot camp. It was more that dismissive tone of the Prince that had bothered Gabe. Bastard couldn't even be bothered to give him a handshake to start! “We're not in your palace anymore your highness!” He muttered again before walking back into the station, plastering his smile back on. “There you are, your Highness!” He said as he set the wine cases down on the table where the Prince lounged.

“Yes, very good!” Lucas said as he grabbed one of the bottles and using a claw uncorked it. He started drinking directly from the bottle. For a moment the only sound in the room was that of Lucas chugging his wine, the Prince letting the wine flow down his throat like a river before pulling the bottle out from between his lips with an audible plop. “So?” Lucas finally broke the silence, looking down upon Gabe even though he had to look up from where he was sitting to meet the human's eyes. “Where is your Master?”

“My....what?” Gabe was taken aback. Did he really just say 'Master?'

“Your Master; the Terran! I would have expected to meet him by now!” Lucas said, sliding the bottle back in between his lips.

“I am the Terran!” Lucas nearly choked on his wine, sputtering some out through his nostrils. He started to laugh. These? These were the terrans his father so admired? Untrained slaves who thought they could look their betters in the eyes! It was too perfect! “What?” Gabe demanded. “What's so funny?” Lucas kept laughing, a few gasps of words escaping between his fits of laughter, but nothing coherent could be formed by the Vulpin.

“Uh.....ugh!” Lucas finally gasped out, panting “that's rich!” He said with a laugh, stretching his feet out towards Gabe. “Well, get to it!” The Prince said, sliding the wine bottle back between his lips. Gabe stood there for a moment, still lost among the sea of madness that just occurred before him. The Prince slid the bottle back out from between his lips. “Well come on, rub my feet! Chop chop!”

“I'm sorry what?”

“My feet; rub them!”

“What? Fuck no! I'm not your slave!” Gabe said, crossing his arms making sure to show off his recently acquired biceps. Lucas laughed, a rich royal laugh that showed off his own mouth of sharp Vulpin teeth. Before the laughter ended Gabe found the toe of a boot connecting with his balls. Sly as a fox Prince Lucas had connected his foot with Gabe's nethers with nary a hint of movement. Gabe fell to his knees, all the air knocked out of him; his balls feeling like angry wasp nests. Lucas stood up and strode closer to Gabe, knocking him onto his back with a light tap of his foot.

“I think it's time you understand something!” Lucas said before planting his left foot down onto Gabe's neck, the bootheel digging down into his throat. Gabe struggled, trying to pry the boot off his neck to no avail. “You are a SLAVE! Your pathetic planet has lasted too long without proper guidance. I'm here to correct that! Now rub my FUCKING FEET!” Gabe choked, feeling the pressure of the bootheel pressing down on his neck. He felt darkness beginning to encroach him as his wind pipe crumpled under the pressure before the boot finally lifted off of his neck. His hand flew towards his throat as he coughed, his throat burning.

Lucas pulled his boots off, presenting his bare feet towards Gabe, curling his toes expectantly as Gabe kept choking at his feet; the human feeling the muscles in his neck struggling to expand again and let in some of that sweet, sweet recycled oxygen. “Oh stop being so over dramatic!” Lucas said, prodding his newest plaything with his toes. “My slaves back home could take twice that! Don't tell me it actually hurt...” Lucas stopped in his tracks as a smile formed on his vulpine lips, a slick predatory smile followed by ravenous laughter. “By the Gods it did! Didn't it?” Lucas prodded Gabe further with his toes “That actually hurt you; you weakling! How the fuck did you worms make it to space?” The question was of course rhetorical, Gabe couldn't answer much of anything once Lucas slid his prodding toes into his newest slave's mouth. “Get sucking, slave!” All Gabe could taste was fur and leather as he sucked on the Vulpin's smooth but resilient feet, anger rising up in him as he felt a few stray furs scratch their way down his throat as his lips puckered around Lucas' big toe. The Vulpin prince rubbed his other foot on Gabe's face, churring to himself. “That broadcast you people planned sure will go over well won't it! They won't even see you until I point the camera at my feet!” Gabe nearly bit down on the Prince's toe. He couldn't do that! He wouldn't! He knew begging right now would get him nowhere, so he silently sucked on the Prince's toes, one by one tasting the mixture of leather and lavender while the Prince drank himself stupid on his wine stocks. “I....I see what you're doing!” The prince slurred out, his hand he held the bottle with lazily turning over to pour some on Gabe. “There ya go drink up.....but....you uh....you want me not to embarrass your people don't ya?” The prince laughed to himself like it was the funniest joke in the entire world. Lucas kept prodding Gabe with his free foot, poking him square in the ribs with his bare toes. “Well mayyyybe! If you do a good job this week; Maybe I'll spare the embarrassment until we conquer you! Maaaayyyyyybeeee!” Lucas slurring towards his latest slave. “You have a week to impress me slave! Slaaaaaaveeeeeeeee.” Lucas' slurrs soon turned to snores. Gabe had half a mind to try and suffocate the princely ponce right there, but thought against it. The Vulpin was strong, much stronger than his size had given any indication of, and frankly Gabe was fucking tired. He just wanted to sleep.

Gabe found himself woken up by a harsh slap to his forehead, and then another. Prince Lucas, his fur all frazzled and eyes glazed over stood above him, his bare footpaw tapping against the carpeted floor of the living area. “I'm hungover, and I don't smell anything close to poached eggs being cooked for me!” Still half asleep Gabe rolled over, ignoring his new roommate's demands and ready to drift back into the dream he had of winning the World Series. Obviously this would not do for Lucas; who, without a word, shifted Gabe back onto his back before pouncing on him! The Vulpin Prince swiftly squatting over his latest acquisition and burying his ass right onto Gabe's face.

Few things wake a person up quite like losing their oxygen supply. In nanoseconds Gabe was torn from Wrigley field and brought back to reality, suffocating under the ass of a fox who's density made him feel like a personal safe was sitting on his head rather than a bratty prince. Gabe could feel his bones start to creak under the weight; like an old over used hydraulics pump that can't hold up those monster cars. He started to thrash wildly, his vision growing blurry as he pounded on Lucas' thighs, trying to scream to let him out but his words just fell into the void of Lucas' ass. Before Gabe could suffocate under Lucas' royal ass; the Prince stood up, leaving Gabe choking and gasping for air. “I expect my breakfast ready within thirty minutes.”

Gabe had never eaten poached eggs before, let alone made them, but the fact his head was still attached to his neck implied that he made a decent enough breakfast for the Prince; who wolfed it down hoping to eat away his throbbing hangover. This is the longest he'd had a hangover without poached eggs on hand to remedy him since he was a kit sneaking sips from his father's liquor cabinet. One of these days his father would find one of his vintage wines replaced with grape juice; Lucas hoped it was while he was still on the station. The Vulpin prince kept eating his food, watching the human get to work on his own out of the corner of his eye.

Gabe worked on his own pair of eggs, scrambled with toast and black coffee; something to keep him awake and dull the pain in his head the Prince had so generously gifted him. Gabe slid his eggs and toast onto a plate and strode towards the table where Lucas was sitting. Lucas stood up and walked towards him, the Vulpin stumbling a bit as he 'accidentally' collided into Gabe, knocking his plate of food to the ground. The Prince then stomped his bare footpaws into the food, the scrambled eggs squishing between his toes and the toast crumbling under heel. Lucas made a few more stomps into the food. “Oops!” He said with a grin as he knocked Gabe down onto his ass with a shove, lifting his footpaw up in front of the human's face, bit's of eggs and toast still lingering on it. “Well; eat up!”

It was broadcast day; the first of many. Gabe had played along as well as he could with the Prince's incredulous and vulgar demands. He kissed the Prince's paws, licked them, kissed them, he even ate all of his meals sitting at the Prince's feet; a “reminder of your proper place” Lucas had called it. This would be the pay off; a pretty show for both of their people where they sat as equals, where they lied through their teeth about cooperation and friendship and looked great to both of their superiors.

Gabe had spent all morning setting up the broadcast while Lucas laid around, drinking more of his seemingly infinite whine reserves. When it finally came time to broadcast he sat next to the Prince, looking at the lights on the amplifier to ensure the broadcast reached both planets. “And we are live...” Gabe said, relishing a chance to speak freely and not act in servitude to the Vulpin. “People of Vulpin! People of Earth! We would like to make our first of many broadcasts together to you all, where we will update you on our conversations on culture and our shared learning experiences!” Gabe said, looking to the Prince to his left.

“Indeed! People of Earth!” Lucas slurred out “I would like to welcome you into your new future! A Gr- A Grand Future as our newest slaves!” The Prince said, laying his barefoot paws in Gabe's lap, snapping his fingers. “See how easily your brightest minds take to it!” He said curling his toes against Gabe's lower belly. Gabe could feel rage boiling in him, he pictured everyone on Earth, everyone of Vulpin watching this. Gasping? Laughing?

“Fuck you...” Gabe muttered.

“What was that?” Lucas asked with a grin, his eyes daring Gabe to say it louder.

“I said FUCK YOU!” Gabe said, shoving the Prince's paws out of his lap “And fuck your planet!” Lucas laughed, reaching for another bottle of wine and uncorking it. He took a long hearty swig before looking back to the camera.

“People of Earth! This is a great time for a lesson in humility and punishment...” Lucas let the last word trail off for a bit before grabbing Gabe by the neck and slamming him onto the ground. “People of Earth! Let me be so gracious as to show you what happens to slaves who think they can stand eye to eye with their Masters!” Lucas kicked Gabe a couple times in the ribs, the Vulpin's bare paws providing enough force to crack them easily. Gabe screamed as Lucas flipped him onto his back, the human once again seeing the Vulpin Prince's ass slowly descending down towards him. Gabe tried to plead, tried to scream, even tried to resist but it was to no avail! The full anvil pressure of Lucas' ass fell back onto him, cutting off all the air around him; and try as he may, pound as he might; the Vulpin prince had zero plans of moving. Not until the struggling stopped, not until the Terrans knew their true masters were coming.