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Hearth Star: Beasts & Bellies

By Psion

All Rights Reserved

Largely regarded as a frightening myth by the humans trapped aboard the massive plodding starship, the beast pits of the Hearth Star were very real. Staffed by Wuffs talented in handling animals or at least believed they were as such, the cavernous gray metal hold was a warren of crudely welded metal pens housing a dizzying variety of large predators from across the galaxy. Reptilian, mammalian, amphibian, even a few marsupial carnivores of a variety of colors and shapes gnawed on chunks of meat and the occasional human thrall unlucky enough to be kicked into the cages by a Wuff beastmaster with a sadistic sense of humor. The Wuffs housed and attempted to train and raise a veritable zoo of “battle beasts” to hunt and terrorize citizens of the Galactic Republic and elsewhere all in the name of “Kewl.”

Bloodmoon smiled as he stood on the catwalk above the pen of his favorite war beast, a large hooded python he brought aboard the ship from some nameless desert planet beyond the GalRep star charts. Dangling a human slave above his pet’s pen, Bloodmoon’s grip on the furless plebeian’s ratty shirt collar was the only thing keeping the half-starved human from falling off the catwalk and into the pen. Smiling cruelly, he started to relax his grip ever so slightly… and felt his eyes go wide as a meaty arm clad in olive green Star Corps fatigues reached from over him and yanked the human back onto the walkway. The Wuff beast tamer barely had time to turn around before he was slammed off of the catwalk by something big and squishy, falling down into the same pen as his hungry pet….

The human barely paused to look at Lt. Jerky finished hoisting him back onto the walkway and belly bumped the Wuff pirate into the pen before running off. Jerky didn’t pay any attention to him; the Star Corps officer was focused more on pressing the attack with the rest of his squad. BFRs and heavy automatic weapons roared violently as the four Star Corps troopers waddled deeper into the beast pits, lobbing gyrojet rounds into fearsome predators from across the galaxy and scrambling Wuffs trying to desperately launch a counter-attack. Elsewhere, Jerky’s leathery ears picked up the unique report of an IPA Pulse Repeater. The fiery Pepper was leading the charge for Cayenne’s team of IPA cops. Slammed on two sides, the Wuff resistance quickly dissolved and the GalRep champions were free to open fire on the beasts within. Jerky thought he heard some hesitation on Cayenne’s side when it came to turn on the war beasts, likely from Curry or Sage, but if he did they got over it quick. Not that it would be hard for Cayenne to motivate them; all of the pens were littered with bleached bones that had been thoroughly gnawed. The remains of former meals, mostly human at a quick glance but that realization was barely a comfort when Jerky realized that some of the skeletons were too small to be fully formed adults.

In a flash of gunfire it was over, a wisp of smoke trailed from the muzzle of the lieutenant’s BFR as he stood and surveyed the carnage around him. Dead Wuffs and a collection of exotic alien predators that was now little more then an exotic collection of meat to get thrown on a grill. The rotund elephant sighed as he turned to look at the rest of his squad and Cayenne’s team; he could see in their eyes that even Donut and Pepper, the two most gung-ho of the groups, were finally starting to feel the same fatigue that undoubtedly had been plaguing the humans stuck down here. They could not leave soon enough and even then all eight of them would likely need some kind of stress relief before too long.

“Alright everyone… let’s try to drag back as much of this meat back before it spoils.” He began, looking at the numerous war beast carcasses littering the metal floor. “And snacking is definitely encouraged.” Jerky added, noticing that Sage and Curry visibly blanched at the mention of turning the predators into dinner.

“How can you think that surrounded by what these… things were fed?” Sage fumed abruptly.

“Easy.” Jerky replied and grabbed Bloodmoon’s pet desert python by the head. The snake was lounging lazily, its body bulging with its former owner, and offered barely any resistance as the Star Corps trooper shoved it head first into his mouth and started slurping it up. After a marathon chug he managed to get the head down and the devoured body of the Wuff beast master soon after, his already considerable paunch swelling outward as he devoured the rest of the snake’s body. By the time he managed to gulp down the tail with one last audible slurp, his stomach bulged down to his knees and jutted a good several feet in front of him. “BURP! Excuse me!” He began, looking down at his stomach as he talked directly to the devoured biomass. “Hello humans of Earth, welcome to your new home inside planet Jerky. You’ve now settled in the safest planet on the Hearth Star.” The elephant reassured the lump in his gut with a quick slap.

Sage was unsurprisingly still unconvinced but both of them were interrupted by the sudden arrival of a familiar human warband with several helpers in tow. Claire Lockheart kept her hand close to the trigger of her shotgun as she carefully admired her allies’ handiwork. Jerky thought he had to be slipping as he felt his heart warm up a bit as a slim, approving smile crossed the human’s lips.

Traveling with Claire and several human porters were Alex, a female Rubent Jerky didn’t recognize and Lukis Gabros the tech knight… Jerky didn’t like the giant orange-armored Blus for a number of reasons but right now the Rubent was the focus of his attention. Brown fur, plump white underbelly, and platinum blond hair worn long, her ice blue eyes dulled with the same mental fatigue that was wearing away her human cohorts as she regarded the slain beasts with a cold smile that somehow managed to unnerve the Star Corps officer. She was clearly a Guilder, that much made particularly clear by her worn and blood-splattered chef’s uniform, the chef’s jacket bearing the faded logo of a luxury cruise ship that had vanished from GalRep space about a year ago.

The Rubent chef said nothing as her eyes went from one beast carcass to another, her face expressionless as she was clearly looking for something. Meanwhile Claire shook her head and handled introductions in order to end the awkward silence. “Jerky, Cayenne, meet Gorgazanna. Master chef, was formerly on a cruise liner that the Wuffs overran. Been with Ironbelly ever since.” She gestured to the still silent female before turning back to their surroundings as the porters started hauling carcasses back to the train. “I always heard stories about this place but never could find it until now.” Claire exhaled as she eyed the gnawed human bones ever so briefly. “This can’t possibly be their only pen but still… you did us a huge favor today. Freeman and the others will be thrilled to hear about this and that both of us have fresh meat.”

Sage blinked at this. “You’re… okay with this?” The Buk space cop asked dumbfounded, gesturing to the suspiciously human bones in every pen.

Claire twitched ever so slightly. “Officer Sage, they’re dead. Sage, THEY ARE DEAD! And you are not eating us if that’s what this is about. You are eating something that had been eating us and won’t be eating us anymore because it’s going to be a part of your fucking fat ass.” The human huntress briefly snapped, attracting stares from everyone else as she exhaled and regained her composure. “Look at it this way, if we get the ship working, even our dead will still be able to leave the Hearth Star.” She added, softer, as she helped the other humans and Gorgazanna load a large share of carcasses and left the eight GalRep protectors alone with Lukis Gabrios.

“Milady seems to be under a great deal of strain.” The rotund black and white badger-like being commented idly, gripping his ornate trident as he joined the others in scanning their surroundings for more threats to deal with.

Jerky said nothing as they all ambled along ahead of the working humans, preferring to not get drawn into a conversation about Claire while the subject of discussion was still in earshot. He didn’t disagree nor did he have trouble understanding why either. The plan was going to work but not without the Wuffs noticing that something was going on. Which made it that much more important to clean out places like this to take pressure off of the settlements.

Still taken aback by Claire’s outburst, Sage and Curry kept a firm grip on their pulse pistols as they scanned for active targets with the others. The pens were mostly empty or housed war beasts that had been killed in the concluded crossfire. All of them were littered with bleached bones that had been heavily chewed on. Periodically Curry would bend over and examine a corpse or fragment of bone but the intact skulls made it obvious to even the medical laymen of the group what the overall ratio was. The humans suffered badly down here with most of the creatures acquiring a taste for their flesh.

As the nine stout fighters ambled along, a low growl from one of the open pens caused Jerky to turn his BFR in the direction of the noise but Sage and Curry were faster on the trigger then him. The report of a pulse pistol echoed twice into the cage and a pair of Organna Pack Hunters fell to the metal deck floor sizzled and stunned. Pistol still in hand, Sage waddled in and caught a glimpse of something Jerky couldn’t see around her wide figure but whatever it was caused an angry tremble to run through her fleshy arm before she turned and began to furiously gobble both Pack Hunters up. Her bucktooth incisor bit into the first creature’s furred flesh and her throat stretched out as she quickly gulped it down then grabbed its mate by the tale and shoved it into her mouth just as began to recover from its temporary paralysis.

The beaver-like woman’s stomach bulged and jostled as she finished eating them up, the navy blue fabric of her uniform stretching effortlessly to contain the struggling orb of swollen flesh as she waddled out with a glint of uncharacteristic anger in her eyes and a firm pat of her engorged stomach as it bounced gently from all the consumed biomass. Jerky was about to remark on the drastic about-face when he saw what caught her eye… all of the bones were human and way too small to be fully formed adults. Jerky shook his head and turned away from the sight, guess Sage decided to take the human’s words to heart.

Once the others finished dividing up and hauling off the carcasses, the nine gorged themselves on what was left. Stomachs and elastic fabrics groaned and creaked as the nine of them slowly lumbered back to the tram, bellies swollen tight with meat. Jerky himself felt ready to explode and he was sure the others felt the same way too. Even Lukis, obscene glutton that he was, visibly chafed as his stomach rubbed beneath his bright orange cuirass. Not even the miraculous biometal of Medivos could stretch and grow fast enough to accommodate the amount of protein they all just ate and remain rigid.

No one complained as everyone squished up against one another in a tramcar that felt much smaller thanks to the engorged heavy weights slowly waddling to and collapsing into the nearest available seat. Jerky briefly grimaced as he found himself sitting down next to Lukis but the Star Corps officer was soon more concerned with providing himself with some relief. Armored fingers gently rubbed against his tight olive-clad stomach and sunk into the thick layer of fat and muscle currently groaning and churning as a gas pocket formed and made its way up Jerky’s throat. The obese space marine signaled his contentment with a riotous belch that was greeted with a chorus of replies. In her corner, Sage rubbed her bloated middle with both hands, a pained look on her face.

Just before the tram slowly started rolling off with its cargo of overstuffed fatfurs, Claire Lockheart slipped in and gently squeezed in between Curry and Sage. Squished between the two heavy-set females, the human woman gently exhaled and ran a gloved hand along Sage’s swollen midsection as her stomach groaned and gurgled painfully.

“Shhh, you’re safe now. She’ll take good care of you.” She said nonchalantly, looking at Sage’s belly as if she was talking to it.

“Milady must have taken a leave of her senses.” Lukis began automatically, almost immediately Jerky knew that the other male had just put his foot in his mouth, metal boot and all.

“Gabrios, my senses left me the moment I was brought on this damn ship.” Claire replied softly as she continued to gently massage Sage’s belly. The Buk maiden blushed slightly as Claire finished calming her stomach down, the human’s slender fingers lovingly caressing the swollen bulge stuffed tight with meat. Then, if they hadn’t seen enough to show that she had finally started losing what little sanity she had left, the huntress knelt on the floor and kissed Sage’s engorged abdomen on the clothed naval. “See? Her tummy’s nice and safe.” She cooed to Sage’s quieted tummy and the compacted lump of digesting war beasts inside of it.

No one said anything. As awkward as it was with the various species of the gluttonous Galactic Republic all attached a certain degree of intimacy to things like belly rubs much less full-on belly worshipping, the display did much to assuage any guilt any might have had about what their latest meal had been fed. Indeed Jerky had to admit he was even a little bit jealous of the attention Sage had gotten. With everyone else having a stronger stomach then the IPA techie, Claire returned to her seat squeezed between Sage and Curry, ignoring Gabrios as he briefly tried to fake having a stomachache…

Upon returning to their encampment, their share of the meat was unloaded and the GalReps disembarked. Jerky turned his head to ask Claire if she wanted to stay with them for dinner but the huntress had already vanished into the labyrinth maze of metal corridors running the length of the Hearth Star. For not the first time since he finally started being honest with himself about his feelings for her, the elephantine space marine hoped she wasn’t working herself too hard.

The loud music and obnoxiously bright signage of the Mead Halls was a familiar assault on Claire’s senses. Keeping to the shadowy back alleys, the cloaked woman was practically invisible to the more crowded thoroughfares. Vacationing buccaneers whooped and cheered at the edge of her hearing as she crept through the maze of trash-strewn alleys until arriving at her destination. Almost immediately the ambient noise began to drop noticeably as the human woman walked behind the Courtesan Guild’s guildhall and discreetly snuck in through a back door, making sure to lock the door behind her.

The back half of the guildhall was a dedicated employee space, consisting of dorms and communal living areas like the sequestered dining room where Claire currently stood. A familiar and friendly sight to DaBotee and her courtesans, several of the scantily-clad ladies waved and greeted her softly as they sat around a low-set table while the front of the hall thumped with a heavy bass soundtrack. Claire took in the ones off for the evening with a quick glance as DaBotee herself entered the dining room.

“Ladies night?” Claire asked quizzically at the large Padonk madam as she greeted the human with a smile and a friendly squeeze of the slender female’s shoulder.

“Is that what you humans call it? Yes all the male concubines are busy tonight, the Wuffs are woefully under prepared to entertain the influx of Gladius privateers that have been coming in as of late.”

“Gladius? Captain Alyssa’s homeworld? I thought she was their only pirate.”

DaBotee smiled grimly. “It appears that what the Amazonian matriarchy of Gladius says is not quite the truth. There’s rumors that the matriarchy is facing civil war and rumors that they aren’t and merely lying to build up their forces before declaring war on the Galactic Republic. Regardless of what the truth is, there are a larger number of rogues and pirates coming from their world then before and they all crave a taste of home.”

Claire realized she must have had a puzzled look on her face because Dabotee quickly continued. “Females do virtually everything on Gladius while the males handle domestic tasks and homemaking. Something about the water on their planet makes the females exceptionally strong and muscular while the males are comparable to humans.” Dabotee explained then thought about it for a moment. “Comparable to the weakened humans we’ve been gradually restoring to health at least.” She added.

Claire made a mental note of this cultural lesson and immediately shelved it to ask a more pressing question. “So this means the Wuffs have male sex slaves now?” There never really were any before, most of the male slave laborers were sent off to workshops and other support industries that kept the Hearth Star’s privateer economy afloat.

“Yes, former slave laborers brought in from a string of illegal asteroid mines. We managed to… save a few but most of them did not last long. The Gladius outlaws are very strong and rough and the human males brought aboard were already weakened by the grueling conditions of the mines.” Dabotee explained, still clearly ashamed to admit she had been buying human slaves. “The ones we managed to save are virtually the only ones left, affording me a temporary monopoly for the foreseeable future.” She added, not looking particularly pleased by that turn of events, then smirked grimly. “I suppose there is some irony in a GalRep trade guild being the only place where Gladius amazons can find satisfying companionship. Especially since… perhaps it would be better if I showed you instead. After all, all of us here still owe you a debt Claire Lockheart.” Dabotee added with a sly wink and started to waddle towards the stairs, beckoning for Claire to follow her.

The brown-haired human woman sighed and shook her head. “I did what needed to be done. Those Wuffs spotted you talking with Freeman, they needed to be taken care of. You owe me nothing.” Claire insisted as she followed the guild mistress up to the balcony overlooking the club floor.

“Nonsense, I insist and so do the others.” Dabotee countered coyly as her voluminous hips squished in the relatively narrow stairwell to the guildhall’s second floor, her rump bouncing playfully back at Lockheart in a way that the human was sure was intentional. The guild was determined to repay Lockheart for a previous incident concerning four Wuffs that saw too much but Claire wasn’t sure about their ideas of “payment.” A stance she became even more conflicted on when she saw the party going on in the main hall.

Though the Courtesans provided a number of services that didn’t come to mind until Claire thought about it a bit more such as spas, no one made much money in the Mead Halls without providing the obvious services. Hence why the largest and most patronized part of the guild house’s “front” was unsurprisingly a strip club. Heavily muscular females dressed in thick body armor reclined and drank as they watched a troupe of scantily clad males dance for their entertainment. Seated with Dabotee in a shrouded balcony that allowed the two of them to watch the performance without being observed by the drinking pirates down below, Claire quickly noted the number of female space pirates before turning her attention to the male concubines dancing and serving drinks. There was the trio of male Padonks serving drinks and teasing patrons by balancing serving trays full of drinks on their prodigious rears, the Vul doctor Lolli and another Vul male Claire didn’t recognize dancing freely on separate stages and wearing nothing but a tightly stretched speedo over their impressive Vul members. And then there was a trio of human males… Claire blinked as she immediately spotted what was amiss then tried to process how it could have happened.

“Did you… inject them with some Vul DNA?” She asked, as her mind comprehended the seeming impossibility in front of her.

“Vul and Padonk DNA to be precise.” Dabotee smiled. “And yes we did. While extensive genetic modification is generally illegal and beyond the scope of what Lolli can do, we can provide minor modifications like you see here.” She gestured to one human dancer in particular that caught Claire’s eye.

The dancer that drew Lockheart’s attention was a human male that was pole dancing in nothing but the same stretched speedo that the Vul were wearing… and was stretching it just as well as the Vul were. Pale skinned, dirty-blond hair, pale blue eyes… and a pronounced male member that was offset by an equally pronounced bubble butt. He was definitely on the chunky side of things, though having most of his weight concentrated in his hips and rump made it hard to notice at first; Dabotee must have been less reluctant to fatten up her male human concubines then her female ones. Though after looking at some of the Gladius amazons again, perhaps that was a smart decision to make sure they had plenty of cushioning before getting thrown out there.

As Claire continued to watch the male below dance provocatively and jiggle his overstuffed “money bag” for drunken female pirates, the mistress of the house leaned into her ear. “Does this mean you’re reconsidering your original misgivings?” She whispered playfully, rubbing the slender female’s side gently.

The huntress audibly sucked in her breath as she continued to watch the human dancer. “Can I just have a bath and an hour or two with the twins?” She replied, referring to the Vul twin sisters Titanna and Assandra. T&A were Dabotee’s two masseurs and masters of relaxing muscles and nerves; very good at relaxing frazzled people like Claire but occasionally prone to getting a bit mischievous.

Dabotee followed her gaze and smiled. “I suppose I should not be surprised that someone nicknamed the Unwed Widow is so hesitant. It would explain why you haven’t gone for that dashing Star Corps officer Lieutenant Jerky already.” She teased playfully.

Claire laughed quietly and sardonically. “There really is no hiding anything from you is there?” She asked as she gave the Courtesan madam a somewhat cold look.

“I wouldn’t be a very good master of secrets if you could, would I?” The enormous Padonk smiled impishly, unfazed by Lockheart’s frosty change in demeanor.

Claire merely shook her head; the GalRep had her there. Maybe if she were lucky, it would end at the massage and bath….

Commander Bael Longfoot sighed contentedly as she sat back down in her command couch, the crew’s two weeks of shore leave had finally come to an end. The refit had been completed and the sleekly rounded Silver Pantry and her equally rounded crew needed to get back on their way. The Rim-Ward Fringe wasn’t going to secure itself, they needed to continue running supplies to Lighthouse Station to develop the garrison there. Leaning into her sturdy command couch as her crew manned their posts, Longfoot’s expression was contemplative as the Space Fleet supply ship disembarked from New Torga, refitted and with a hold full of supplies.

The exact nature of the ship’s refits was… interesting to say the least. The modification to the living quarters was a rack of sleeping tubes for transporting additional personnel, hardly mentionable. The upgrades to the galley facilities were more then expected, much to more then just Ensign Cheddah’s delight. Longfoot didn’t realize how much she and the rest of the crew missed having a proper kitchen unit until they had one. In addition to an upgraded Provision Generator with a considerably increased capacity, the basic appliances had been replaced with a full Mark 7 Omni-Cooker and a High Capacity Stasis Pantry. Bael was still flabbergasted by that upgrade, the Mark 7 represented the current high-end of cooking equipment, and unsure whether it was a discreet apology from the elder Bargebottom or part of the long-term plan to expose the humans to GalRep cooking. Probably both if she thought about it. Still, at least she could think of an immediate use for the kitchen and living quarter upgrades. The experimental modifications to the forward hold were a different matter.

“I wonder why the Fleet thinks we need a giant Stasis Pantry in our hold?” Lt, Synth mused as she checked the environmental readouts from the new Industrial-Sized Stasis Pantry unit on her console. “Still, it appears to be working fine so far.”

“I have no idea but knowing our luck since the battle at Wannabang, I think we’ll figure out a use for it soon. Also, did I ever mention how much I hate Wuff naming conventions?” Longfoot replied as the Silver Pantry jumped to hyperspace with a subtle lurch.

“Several times Bael, several times.” The feline science officer replied with a laugh that was shared by the rest of the crew.

Longfoot smiled and was about to order the others to settle down when her console pinged with an incoming message. Soon the bridge crackled with static as a desperate distress call began to play.

“Mayday, mayday! This is the passenger liner Long Haul! We’re under attack by Wuff pirates! Repeat, this is the Long Haul under attack by Wuff pirates. We can’t hold on for much longer.” The message repeated.

Bael fought to keep her expression neutral as she looked to Synth, she just had to open her mouth. The lieutenant nodded knowingly but didn’t say anything; they were in range. “Very well then, set a course Ensign Zedd.” She ordered while sounding the alarm for General Quarters.

The klaxon blared and the commander was sure Ensign Cheddah was panicking back in the kitchen, hoping he wasn’t due for a repeat of the Resolute Forager, as she activated the ship-wide intercom. And frankly, so was Commander Longfoot. “Attention crew, we have intercepted a distress call from a civilian vessel under attack by Wuff pirates while enroute to our destination. Prepare to repel boarders.” Hopefully there weren’t going to be any boarders but still, better to have Suker and Cheddah grab weapons now and not need them then be caught off-guard.

The Silver Pantry dropped out of hyperspace right on the edge of the engagement. In the orbit of a ringed gas giant bedecked with several dead moons, the Long Haul passenger liner raced desperately to escape a Wuff frigate that was effortlessly keeping pace with her. Checking the liner through her own ship’s sensors confirmed her suspicions, the ship’s reactor and engines were being desperately overclocked in order to gain speed. The reactor was holding up gamely but the engines would be dead in a matter of minutes. Fortunately for the civilians, the pirate frigate soon had other concerns as Longfoot gave the order to launch drone fighters and fire the Silver Pantry’s turrets on them. Plasma bolts raked the midnight black hull of the pirate ship as the Wuff captain turned to engage this new threat.

“Focus on engines and weapon systems, take them down quickly.” Longfoot ordered as their shields buckled under the pirate’s returning fire.

While her vessel was not a proper combat ship, it was equipped well enough to handle a single privateer frigate. Shields and engines went down on the Wuff vessel almost as soon as Longfoot gave the order, then the enemy guns just… stopped. Scans showed they were still functional but the enemy crew just stopped fighting. A baffling puzzle but there was no time, the civilian ship had suffered serious hull damage before the Fleet’s timely arrival and they needed to get all of those people off of the ship before more pirates arrived. Keeping Zedd at the helm and Lei Leflin on the guns, she prepared the rest to assist in evacuating the civilian ship.

Once they were certain the enemy ship was crippled, the Pantry docked with the Haul. Boarding the passenger vessel with the rest of her crew, Longfoot discreetly sucked in her breath. There were a lot more then she expected and many of them were wounded, too wounded to survive the trip to the nearest GalRep world. Most of them would have to be left behind… or would they? Longfoot quickly wondered as an idea began to form in her mind.

“Lieutenant Synth… do you remember how Ensign Cheddah escaped from the Resolute Forager?” She began as a sly smile crossed her lips. Perhaps there was a use for that new cargo system after all.

It took a lot of convincing and creative use of the ship’s cargo loading equipment in the case of some of the largest passengers, but the wounded were quickly put into stasis and the survivors were carefully stowed away in the crew extension. Longfoot returned back to the bridge expecting to find Ensign Zedd warning her of additional pirates or the one ship they disabled repairing itself to functionality. But the crippled Wuff frigate remained where it was, drifting helplessly in space. Against her better judgment, the Lapeen commander gave into her curiosity.

“Hail them.” She ordered simply as the crew resumed their stations.

Without a word, Lt. Synth opened a channel and the stark, metallic bridge of the enemy ship appeared on screen. Today appeared to be the day Longfoot would have her expectations constantly flouted. Instead of a bridge crew of the lupine Wuffs immediately showering her and the Pantry with insults about their weight or their ability to ruin the pirate’s fun, the enemy frigate was currently held by a small band of humans either cautiously pressing buttons or executing the last of the Wuff crew with the cold confidence of the captive that had successfully turned the tables against his masters. No one on the other end seemed to notice the open channel or that Longfoot and her crew were watching.

“Excuse me, do you require assistance?” She interrupted as politely as she could manage given that the human ringleader was currently in the middle of creatively impaling the Wuff captain with his own cutlass.

Like that, all the humans stopped mid-task and looked up. Those that were trying to figure out the ship’s inoperative engines and shields had their hands hovering over buttons that would do nothing while the ones that were seeing to the execution of their captors stared at Longfoot oblivious to the blood that was staining their ratty boots. It would have been almost comical were it not under such tense circumstances.

For a second, no one on the humans’ end spoke. Then there were a few quick glances made between the apparent ringleader, another human who appeared to be either the beta or a rival alpha of the group, and the human at the engineering station that finally realized the ship was dead in the water.

“So… you with the people the Wuffs were trying to shoot up?” The ringleader began finally, kicking the corpse of the captain for emphasis. Longfoot noticed he spoke Universal and spoke it quite fluently.

“Yes, I am Commander Longfoot of the GRSS Silver Pantry.” She introduced, noticing that the leader had his attention focused on the Fleet badge on her breast.

“Space Fleet? The navy that protects the Galactic Republic?” The human asked simply, his eyes lighting up with recognition.

“Yes. You have heard of the Galactic Republic Mr…?” She replied, politely fishing for his name.

“Lucas, Lucas Star. Yeah, we have a few friends from there locked up with us. And we have a lot of wounded. Any chance you know how to get to Lighthouse Station?” He asked.

“The Wuffs have talked about the human colony at Lighthouse Station?” Longfoot asked, this was not particularly surprising to her but still was worth asking further about.

“It’s all they’ve been talking about for the past month or so. Tried to lay siege to the place five times only to get trounced by some guys called the Star Corps on the last raid. They’re still sore about that one. Look, do you know where it is? We really need to get this thing working and get there.” Lucas Star replied impatiently, Bael could understand his unease and eagerness to get moving.

Longfoot contemplated this quietly for a moment before making her decision. “We’ll take you there ourselves Mr. Star. Have your people ready to board the moment we dock with your ship, that frigate won’t be jump capable without extensive repairs.”

Lucas looked skeptical, unsurprisingly unwilling to trust someone he only just met five minutes ago, but nodded in affirmation before punching a button on the captain’s console and closed the channel. Longfoot visibly exhaled once the communication ended and shook her head. “Well, we can’t just leave them can we?” She asked rhetorically as the ship docked with the crippled pirate frigate.

The air aboard the Wuff ship stank with a stench of blood and gore that Longfoot wouldn’t soon forget. Fortunately the humans were much more eager to move quickly then the passengers of the Long Haul. Those that still had some strength left were carrying out the wounded and sure enough, the few GalRep prisoners Lucas claimed were with them stuck out like sore thumbs. A male Padonk in a civilian medic’s jumpsuit that clearly looked slept in for several weeks, a female Buk engineer dressed in a tattered Guilder’s coveralls, and a female Kultivar agronomist that managed to look even more out of place then her peers next to the humans. All three of them had clearly lost weight during their time in captivity but still managed to look relatively chubby next to the worn and battered humans. And all three of them were fussing over a few particular humans… Shaking her head, she directed her crew and focused on getting Lucas’s people aboard before more pirates showed up.

Lucas’s fellow humans were surprisingly less skeptical of Longfoot’s plan to transport their wounded until they could be treated at Lighthouse Station. But perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised; Wuffs used similar methods for transporting unruly humans that might rebel. The idea of keeping their wounded in stasis until they could be safely revived was not a foreign concept to them. And with most of them badly injured in the fight to take control of the pirate frigate, there were very few left for her to hide from the civilians. And as callous as it sounded, Longfoot was grateful things worked out the way they did. She definitely would have run out of space trying to escape with everyone any other way.

The unexpected living cargo safely stowed away, Longfoot ordered Zedd to set a course for the nearest GalRep world before going to talk things over with the civilian captain and the three Guilders privately in her ready room. The sooner she got this unexpected detour over with and faced the inevitable consequences of it, the better.

Captain Hogorn of the Long Haul was a robust, big-bellied Porceen male who clearly enjoyed the life of a civilian starship captain. Affirmable, gregarious, yet there was something “off” about his personality that made Longfoot uneasy.

“Well met Commander Longfoot, I honestly thought we were finished back there. Good to see our tax credits are being well spent.” He greeted jovially, briskly shaking her hand before either of them had sat down in the captain’s wardroom.

“It was nothing Captain Hogorn, our supply route happened to take us nearby.” Bael began professionally and almost immediately knew she made a mistake.

“Oh? The military is finally building a starbase out here? Well it’s about time. Sector’s been flush with pirates lately. Between them and the rumors of a new species existing beyond the fringe, my crew has been nervous.” Hogorn smiled, seemingly coming to the most innocent interpretation of her comment.

“Rumors?” Bael asked, pretending to not already have an idea where this was going.

“Hogwash most likely. Some of the Megacon haulers and captains have been spinning tall tales of a race of skinny, furless primates called the hew-mons or something in the port bars. Supposed to be a bunch of ill-tempered star barbarians as bad as the Wuffs. I’m not sure I believe a word of it.” The stout pig waved dismissively, oblivious to the irony of his comment.

How little you know… Bael thought but didn’t say. “Well captain, we do not wish to keep your crew and passengers any longer so we’ve set a course for the nearest Republic world. We’ll drop you off there and continue on our way.”

“And what about the people you freed from the privateer frigate?” He asked innocently… almost too innocently for Bael’s tastes

“I will need to speak with them after I finish with you but they should be let off on the same planet you will be.” Longfoot replied as the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand on end. “Now unless there is anything else, I must see what those prisoners know about Wuff activity in this sector.” She dismissed professionally.

With nothing else to say, Hogorn stood up and left the room just before the three GalRep civilians rescued from the Wuff ship ambled in. Almost immediately the Padonk medic opened his mouth to speak but Longfoot held up her hand for them to remain silent as she listened to Hogorn’s weighty steps move further and further away from the room. Once she head him finish heading down the corridor, she shut the door and turned to the trio. For another moment no one spoke, giving Longfoot a moment to put names to the faces she met previously. Cheb, the Padonk medic, was a male with long white hair tied in a braided ponytail and a build typical of his species. Dark jade eyes shone with uncertainty as Cheb watched her nervously, fiddling with the handle on a well-worn polymer medkit.

Next to him sat Spanar, a Buk technician of some sort that wore a weathered engineering jumpsuit and kept some sort of compact welder holstered on her hip. The brown-furrred rodent female’s pale blue eyes were already starting to water as she regarded Bael hopefully.

And finally there was Pitunia on the other side of Spanar. By virtue of being a Kultivar, the maroon-colored ursine was the tallest out of the three. And judging by her lack of plumpness compared to the other two, the one the Wuffs felt the least like feeding though that was nothing Ensign Cheddah wouldn’t be happy to fix. The ensign would probably have all three of them back to their normal roundness by the time they arrived at the nearest friendly planet. Pitunia also looked as nervous as the others. Longfoot immediately knew what each of them was thinking and what they were going to ask her for. Unfortunately it was not quite as simple as it sounded.

“Please Commander, we want to go to Lighthouse Station with the humans. We don’t wish to return to the Republic.” The medic began, finally breaking the silence. Just as Bael expected, they wanted to stay with their fellow captives.

“I had a feeling you were going to say something like that.” Longfoot replied. “I saw how you were around some of them. They’re your lovers aren’t they?” She asked, recounting three particular humans that the trio had been suspiciously cordial with as they all escaped the pirate frigate aboard Bael’s ship. Not that she was particularly opposed to the idea, it certainly would help convince the humans that the Republic wanted to befriend them. But that wasn’t helping the matter at hand…

Unable to take the pressure much more, the Buk maiden began to sob into her hands. “Please, please, please. I know I can’t take him with me so I want to be with him. Please, I’m all he has left. I don’t want him to be alone.”

Before the Kultivar could join in, Longfoot shook her head and buried her face in her hand. “Alright, alright. Listen to me, I cannot let you travel with them.” She began, sliding a small electronic notepad in front of the Buk and setting down a stylus on top of it. “What were you doing before you were kidnapped by the Wuffs?”

“We worked at an orbital agronomy station cultivating food crops that grew well in hydroponics. I was one of the greenhouse workers, Spanar was involved in structural maintenance, and Cheb was our resident medic.” Pitunia answered, taking over for her more distraught cohort.

“Right then. As I was saying, you can’t come. And I can’t tell you that the moment you are planet side you should speak to one of the people on the list saved on that notepad and send them a copy of your trade certifications and any skills you have that might be useful for long-term living on an orbital habitat that frankly should have been scuttled years ago. I can’t tell you to name the Wuff ship that you were imprisoned in on your application or that it will be flagged for using human slaves the moment I submit my report to the Admiralty.” She began. Immediately Spanar cued in and started hastily scribbling down her instructions. “Given that you possess potentially sensitive information about the existence of an alien race that has not formally begun diplomatic relations with the Republic, I would also not expect a prompt response. Now, what can you tell me about the Wuffs who were holding you prisoner…” Longfoot smiled as she tried to see what she could glean from these three about the pirates in this region.

Gabriel Blackman had been dreading this meeting for weeks now, meeting face to face with Major Hopper for the second time since the Star Corps mess chef came aboard the station. There were a number of reasons why he was dreading this meeting; all of them were probably going to come up at least once. The two had agreed to have the meeting in the base CO’s office, a decision Gabriel secretly took as a chance to better get into the mind of the Mess Chef in charge and to keep that mammoth mass of fuzzy lime gelatin out of his own claustrophobic office. As he sat down in the chair opposite of the major’s desk, Blackman quickly scanned the office for little clues to keep in mind for later. No pictures of family or loved ones on the desk, at least none in a medium that he recognized, and the desk itself was a sturdy if utilitarian design that lacked a single artistic flourish in its sturdy metal body. There were awards and medals put on display in a case behind Hopper’s desk, not an excessive amount and none arranged in any particular order the governor could determine, but enough to show that the major’s career was hardly dull. Most of them appeared to be commendations for exceptional culinary aptitude or humanitarian work but there were a few that looked like combat citations as well. In a different time and place, Gabriel might have actually liked this fellow…

“Well, hello Major.” Blackman began dryly, his eyes briefly drifting towards that floppy lime green chef’s hat firmly on the rabbit-morph’s head. No matter how many times he saw it, he always had to fight down the urge to snicker. Yet now more then ever did he need to keep his behavior professional, this meeting was going to be aggravating enough.

“Hello Governor Blackman.” Major Hopper replied professionally. Neither of them was going to pretend this wasn’t tense. Both of them knew about the lengthy list of things that needed to be discussed.

“I suppose I should begin by asking why you detained one of my people in your stockade and why you haven’t even released his name yet.” The black-haired human began pointedly.

“The male was caught trying to sell bootleg recordings of Hearth Star gladiatorial battles on base. Profiteering off of illegal blood sports is a crime in the Republic and I don’t want my boys watching enemy propaganda. As for his name, there was trouble identifying him in your own census registry. Apparently his name is Samuel Du-”

“Samuel Dupont.” Blackman interjected, massaging his temples. “I should have known… on second thought I apologize for my previous comment, you can keep him.” Mentally he considered a few choice curses for his least favorite resident of the station.

The citrus-green rabbit raised an eyebrow. “He’s a known troublemaker?”

“He’s been running the black market trade in gladiatorial combat recordings on this station ever since I banned them months ago. I find them tasteless and they have a habit of making the ex-pit fighters living here prone to counter-productive acts of violence. I’ve already sentenced him to one month of hard labor for peddling them. One month doing the most grueling station chores I could find and I thought that did it… Oh well, I could assign him to Sewer Cistern 4 like I did to the two that got into a bar fight last week.”

“What’s so special about Cistern 4?” Hopper asked quizzically.

“It’s hooked up solely to the Star Corps garrison. And apparently it’s particularly foul after that chili you cooked up two days ago. The two drunken brawlers got on their knees and begged me to assign them somewhere else after that.” Blackman smirked. “Of course, considering he’s no longer just my pain in the ass, I’m still tempted to let you have him if you can counter my proposal with something even more creative.”

Hopper rubbed his chins in contemplation as the tone of the meeting changed. “Hmmm, the Corps has its own way of dealing with troublemakers like Dupoint but cleaning out Cistern 4 sounds promising.”

“If I assume the Star Corps method somehow involves strapping him to a chair and forcibly stuffing him with food, would I be correct?”

The base commander smiled. “For a male who fights our ways tooth and nail, you certainly understand GalRep culture surprisingly well. Which reminds me, how does it feel to see your people start to surrender to good, hearty Republic cooking?” Hopper smirked as he leaned back in his chair and gave his own prodigious middle a proud slap.

Blackman frowned slightly. Bargebottom and Carbloat weren’t joking when they said they could effortlessly drown the station in food or were willing to make good on that promise. There was virtually no point in rationing food anymore and though he had ulterior motives for setting up other eateries in order to decrease the pressure to join Major Hopper and his troopers for chow, namely in order to keep his people from picking up bad GalRep eating habits, he knew it was a stop-gap measure at best if or when Freeman and Ironbelly’s Guilders escaped from the Hearth Star. The Galactic Republic was going to get its way on that front and the evidence was already starting to become visible even though it had barely been a month since he made that agreement. The virtually anorexic people that had been brought aboard when the Star Corps saved the station had all acquired a healthy body weight. Meanwhile it was becoming easy to see who was easily swayed by the GalRep promise of virtually endless food. Stomachs were starting to puff out into round bellies; rumps and hips widened and softened, and the breasts of some of his female residents were becoming obviously fuller. Metabolism was helping in some cases but that wouldn’t last forever. Perhaps finding that viable sample of Starchrooms wasn’t so lucky after all, the GalRep chefs and agronomists were going nuts finding ways to make it grow more explosively or use it in a hundred and one different ways and already their research was starting to produce significant results…

“Well, I suppose there are worse fates my people could suffer.” Blackman said finally. He knew this was the inevitable outcome of not kicking Carbloat and Bargebottom out when he had the chance but on the positive, morale had never been higher.

“Indeed, yet that doesn’t stop you from conducting projects in obscure parts of the station. You still don’t trust us do you?” Hopper countered, moving onto the next item.

“No, I don’t. And I believe you’re already familiar with the reason why.” The human governor replied automatically.

“You genuinely think there is a plot somewhere in the Galactic Republic to exploit your species?” The major answered his own unspoken question.

“Do you not find it odd that there are attempts to suppress information about the Hearth Star by what appears to be a non-government group? Or that despite the fact that the Republic at large has not encountered us, certain online message boards in the region are alive with rumors of savage techno-barbarians with a name that just happens to be a mispronunciation of ours?” Gabriel snorted.

Hopper smirked and shook his head. “I didn’t say I disagreed with you. But we’re also supposed to be learning to work together. And it would help if I at least had an idea what you were doing.”

“In non-specific details, I’m upgrading and standardizing the equipment the station militia is using so they’re less of an afterthought and more of a fighting force in their own right. I’m also assembling a special unit to explore nearby star systems for usable resources and hopefully Earth.” The slim human official replied, no point in hiding that much.

“Ah, I heard of the second thing. Something you’re calling the Pathfinders or sumtin? What about the first thing?” Hopper nodded, confirming Blackman’s suspicions that the other male had been paying attention to what was going on.

“They’re calling themselves the Home Guard now. And not much is changing beyond the name and a badly needed equipment upgrade.” The civilian leader shrugged.

“And I assume you’re not willing to get any more specific then that.” The Star Corps CO hamfistedly fished.

“I’m not. Also, it helps that there isn’t anything to get more specific about yet.” Blackman countered.

“I see. Well then, back to the matter of Samuel. Sewage duty sounds like a start but I still feel you’re letting him off easy.” Hopper began sternly.

“And I fail to see what your proposal will accomplish except make him easier to catch…” Blackman smiled as a thought occurred to him. “I just remembered… Gina and the others in Sam’s recordings never agreed or are being properly compensated for his peddling of their likeness and exploits. They will not be happy to hear he’s at it again, I barely kept them from killing him the last time.”

Major Hopper blinked then returned the human’s smile as he came to the same realization. “Indeed, especially Ms. Stewart. I knew looking at her that she had been in some nasty business but to see it for myself…”

Blackman sucked in his breath as he recalled the mentioned unpleasantness. Of course Hopper would have to review the confiscated recordings, someone had to verify they were genuine. “Yes… that was a horrible business what happened to Brent. But back to the matters at hand.” He changed the topic back to what they were meeting about and the back and forth continued in earnest….

Back on the Hearth Star, Claire Lockheart lay nervously facedown on the padded table while two sets of Vul hands rubbed down her naked body in a quiet corner of the spa. The twins giggled softly as they felt her tense energy while their fingers traced delicate patterns in her toned back muscles. Yet there was a solemn moment of seriousness when they got down to the light scarring that formed a ring around her lower torso. The collection of near misses she wore on her body had that effect on people and Dabotee’s troop of plump sex dolls and pampered creampuffs certainly weren’t immune to it. Claire was used to it, not many of even her fellow humans stuck on this giant deathtrap of a spaceship could stand to look her in the eyes without flinching. What she wasn’t used to, however, was how the Courtesans chose to express their discomfort. Where others would back away, they were stubbornly persistent in testing and breaking her barriers.

In a way she supposed it would be comical to watch from the perspective of an outsider looking in. The hardened warrior that had forgotten how to live, she could kill a dozen Wuffs like it was nothing yet was terrified of the simple act of unwinding, of feeling something other then the bitter venom coursing through her veins that kept her alive for at least a year now…. Had it been over a year already? She asked herself silently as the tears began to flow quietly.

Her resistance cracking and her sorrows ebbing to the surface after being buried deep within her subconscious for so long, it took Claire a moment to realize that the Vul twins had stopped rubbing her down and now a singular pair of delicate hands had replaced them as their owner climbed up on the table with a satisfying creak and straddled her, caressing her with a touch she had not felt in a long time, that of her fellow human.

Turning her head to look over her shoulder, the huntress blushed as she immediately recognized the familiar face of the gene-modded human that had caught her attention earlier, the dirty blond one that had been pole-dancing for a bunch of drunken lady pirates. Of course Dabotee would remember how this one caught her eye and of course he would agree to do this, all the Courtesans in the guildhall, male and female, had previously tried to jockey for the honor of being “Claire’s bitch” for a night. For not the first time, the human woman contemplated ritualistic scarring to increase her sense of menace and maybe finally kill this “warrior woman” appeal she seemed to have with various Big Handsome Men that life insisted on throwing in front of her.

“Hello Ms. Lockheart.” The endowed courtesan greeted with a submissive smile as she turned to look him in the eye, his tone conveying an otherwise unspoken permission to do whatever dirty things to him that her heart desired. “Mistress Dabotee tells me you were intrigued by my performance earlier.” He blushed back, clearly intimidated by being in the presence of the huntress. “I honestly didn’t think my appearance would appeal to someone like you.”

Claire rolled over and gently caressed her “toy’s” thick hips before giving his riotous bubble butt a squeeze, feeling the two doughy orbs squish in between her fingers. His plump, Vul-sized member was a comfortable weight resting against her stomach. “What’s your name?” She asked, cutting right to the point.

“Chris ma’am, for Christopher.” The plump femboy answered dutifully.

“Well Chris….” She began, her hands beginning to tremble as old demons began to rise up unbidden from the depths of her mind.

With eyes that shone with empathy, Chris clasped her dominant hand sympathetically. “It’s okay, the mistress told me you might not be willing to taste your first creampuff just yet.” He replied with a sly smile that left Lockheart wondering if any of the Courtesans were mind readers.

Still straddling her, the human concubine leaned forward and wrapped her in a gentle embrace. Not a word more was said between the two, delicate human fingers softly rubbed the scars on her back as Chris nuzzled her cheek. Her muscles violently shuddered as Claire was finally able to let go and relax for the first time in a long, long time…

Two days later, at the start of first watch, the Silver Pantry arrived at Zaron-5, a well-developed GalRep colony less then a dozen light-years away from Lighthouse Station. Mining activity in a massive asteroid belt nearby and trade from the agricultural colony the humans secretly rescued meant that that the colony saw a lot of traffic from the frontier to Republic core and back. The passengers and crew of the Long Haul were soon let off at the orbital station above the planet where they could easily secure passage to the inner worlds. It was with no small amount of visible reluctance that Cheb, Spanar, and Pitunia joined them then promptly disappeared into the station proper before the well-dressed Hogorn could so much as turn his head and look in their direction.

Commander Longfoot shook her head and turned back to her ship once the last civilian was gone and all the wounded GalReps had been safely thawed and transported to the nearest hospital. The rest of the crew was getting ready to cast off to their original destination once the ship was refueled and the Provision Generator was resupplied. Her report of the incident concerning the passenger liner was one of the first things to get sent to the Admiralty and was promptly replied to with an order to standby while her report was processed, as good of an excuse as any to top off her supplies and let the humans know it was safe to come out.

The humans who didn’t need to be submitted to stasis had been hidden, humorously enough, in sleeping tubes next to the civilians where they more or less stayed for the past two days. At first Lt. Synth and Ensign Cheddah were concerned that they would starve but the human occupants had been more interested in sleeping off the adrenaline and pain medicines they were given then sneaking around the ship to swipe something to eat. When it was safe for them to come out though, they were certainly hungry… and quickly learning that hunger was a bad thing to have around Ensign Cheddah.

If Bargebottom wanted any humans Longfoot picked up to be pudgy by the time they were taken to Lighthouse Station, Ensign Cheddah was certainly an excellent cook for the job. The Galley Services chef heated up leftovers left behind by the GalRep civvies, served them to the peckish humans, then started cooking up even more food with a flurry of jiggly movement. Fortunately this particular band of humans was a bit more hearty then the Wuffs usually abused otherwise they probably would have kneeled over from the deluge of calories.

Their human guests had started leaving the galley by the time the crew arrived for their morning meal. Longfoot smiled as she watched them walk past, groaning and visibly stuffed. One, a female, lingered just a little too long behind the others trying to convince Cheddah that she couldn’t possibly eat any more, the blond Rubent merely looked back at her with those soft, expressive eyes of his and said “Please? I made this for you.” as he held up one last starch roll.

The entrapped female took the bit of food, ate it slowly, and groaned just like the others. Cheddah smiled encouragingly and gave her stomach a gentle pat with a gloved hand. “See, I knew you had some room left.” He cooed as he helped her up to her feet and towards the door.

The rest of the crew waited silently, smiles on the lips of several of them, until the human had staggered back to her bunk to sleep off the digestive torpor. “So how long before we see them try to skip meals?” Ensign Zedd asked bemused.

“Probably as soon as lunch if this is how they handled breakfast.” Lt. Synth smirked, getting a giggle from both of the Leflin twins.

“Awwww, and I had such a nice lunch planned out.” Cheddah sighed dejectedly, ears and floppy hat drooping slightly, as he quickly cleared the table, set aside the humans dirty dishes, and quickly served the rest of the breakfast he prepared. Longfoot had to hand it to the ensign; he cooked fast when given proper tools.

“Perhaps you should give them something light…ish.” Longfoot began, remembering that the humans likely had a very different idea of a “light meal” then they did. “Maybe make them some sandwiches out of the leftovers from our lunch? That way they won’t explode before dinner.” She smiled. “By the way, what is planned for dinner again?”

The chef smiled as his eyes lit up but before he could answer, Longfoot’s communicator pinged with a notification. Her report regarding the incident with the Long Haul had been reviewed and her orders were updated. There was no particular condemnation of how she handled the situation but she was required to make sure to pick up three individuals before she left the colony. Longfoot was not surprised to find out who those people were…

Cheb lead the trio of GalRep civilians back onboard the Silver Pantry, each of them carrying a small satchel full of various sundries and each of them looking much better now that they had a chance to get cleaned up and get some proper food in them. There was a short awkward silence as Longfoot greeted them at the airlock, neither of them expected things to be settled THAT quickly, and then finally Bael began with a “Welcome back. Follow me; I’ll lead you to where the others are billeted. Perhaps you’ll be able to help us with how skinny your friends are.” The Fleet officer explained with a coy smile as the supply vessel cast off and continued on its way to Lighthouse Station.

About four and a half days later, all mercifully uneventful, Longfoot and her crew had arrived at Lighthouse Station. The additional passengers hadn’t put that much of a strain on their supplies though Lt. Synth certainly was able to collect a great deal of data on how GalRep food and nutritional supplements affected the human physiology. Bodies used to subsisting on whatever calories they could greedily horded Cheddah’s rich offerings and rapidly filled out. The three GalRep civvies had proven to be exceptional weight coaches for their lovers, Cheb’s boyfriend in particular had ballooned out considerably once the Padonk medic talked him into taking over leftover disposal for Cheddah. Cheb, Spanar, and Pitunia all refused to give up the comfort of a squishy bedmate even if they were going to live with the skinny humans on Lighthouse Station. And Bael had to admit to a guilty pleasure watching the humans grow rounder and rounder, gradually becoming more accustomed to GalRep portions. A development the entire crew was guilty of encouraging and didn’t regret for a second as they watched their charges expand, giving the humans no shortage of casual compliments and encouragement to clean their plates or take one more helping. The looks on the faces of the station population when they arrived and finished unloading the wounded were priceless.

Once she had seen that the wounded were safely revived and transferred to the station-side hospital, Bael released the humans that they had been fattening up over the past few days, shocking the census officials with the sight of roughly half a dozen humans with pronounced potbellies and three weighing as much as both of the census takers put together. With the passengers gone and the unloading of the supplies on hold until the local longshoremen came back from some civil gathering, the crew disembarked in shifts and headed into the station proper. Longfoot smiled as she ambled off her ship and onto the station, taking note of the changes that had already occurred since she started running supplies here. The station was cleaner and obvious attempts had been made to repair damaged subsystems, station industries were happy humming away supported by GalRep fabrication technologies. Ruggedly built provision generators dispensed carbohydrate and protein cakes. Most of the civilian activity was human, what little of it there was as everyone was called away from the docks to attend some event. Not that it mattered too much to the Space Fleet sailors, less people meant they were more able to freely admire their handiwork so far before going on their separate ways for their short shore leave. A little quiet break that was delayed by a summons to the same event that had occupied most of the station’s population…

Major Hopper kept his expression neutral as he took a seat in the small ad-hoc sports arena the humans had built in an empty section of the warehouse level. Longfoot’s crew and most of the garrison sat in the bleachers section around him while Sergeant Crem stood in the stadium floor below; the rest of the tiny stadium was filled with humans watching the procession quietly. When Dupont was brought in, a few of them already started to roll their eyes; the man was a recognized regular. At the other end of the floor, a pair of human militia threw Samuel Dupont down in front of where Governor Blackman was sitting. The whole scene reminded the Star Corps officer of the gladiatorial arenas popular with primitive cultures. Considering where most of the human fighters came from though, it made a disturbing sort of sense to have some touch of “home” where they could train.

“Samuel Dupont, I had hoped the last time we went through this would be just that…” Blackman began as he rose to his feet, his voice carrying clearly as he addressed the audience as much as the criminal in front of him. “Dupont, you have been caught once again selling bootleg recordings of Wuff gladiatorial fights. In addition you have been caught attempting to sell them to people with stiffer penalties for their retail then I do.”

“Bullshit, what’s wrong with a little free enterprise?” The convicted human shouted back, getting a few cheers from the human section of the audience. Apparently not everyone agreed with Blackman’s decision.

Blackman merely smiled, confusing most of the GalRep soldiers and sailors. “Funny you should mention that, there’s a question I’ve been meaning to ask you. You sell these recordings for about three hundred ration chits apiece or the GalRep equivalent. What’s the ex-gladiators’ cut of that?”

Sam’s face twisted into a look of obvious confusion. Almost immediately Crem knew he was going to say something stupid. “What cut? I don’t pay them shit.”

Like that, the audience completely turned against him as his fellow humans stood up and audibly booed him. Apparently even his supporters had standards. Mess Sergeant Crem frowned disapprovingly, what an asshole. No wonder Governor Blackman had allegedly become more diplomatic on the topic of punishing him once he learned it was Samuel that was locked in the Corps stockade.

Gabriel smiled. “Well I’m glad there doesn’t need to be a discussion on that. Anyway, as I never was one for theatrics… Samuel Dupont, for the crimes of peddling blacklisted media on an allied military base I sentence you to a month of assisting the Mess Chefs in testing the many, many recipes they’re discovering for starchrooms and any other chores they can come up with. But first there’s the matter between you and our ex-gladiators regarding the unauthorized retail of their likeness. While normally I would handle this the way we used to before the Wuffs sacked Earth, with the two of you presenting your arguments before me, I think trial by combat is more appropriate here.”

“What? You’re joking!” Samuel protested, arms sprayed wide in disbelief.

“The choice is yours Samuel, you can run behind Sergeant Crem and your ass is hers and Major Hopper’s for a month. Or… if you somehow score a knockout against the pit fighters’ representative, you can walk away a free man. And I don’t think the Star Corps will be too upset with me when they see why I’m willing to make that bet.” Blackman smiled wickedly.

Crem suddenly became aware of someone walking out one of the entrances behind her and walking up a few feet to her left. Turning her head in that direction, she raised a crimson eyebrow when she saw Gina Stewart with her long black hair tied back in a ponytail and her body clad in what could only be Wuff gladiatorial armor. Black body suit so tight that it showed the faint outline of Gina’s undergarments and the only obvious signs of were a pair of thick polymer bracers and sleek polymer-reinforced boots, only the Wuffs would consider such a design practical. Unarmed, the petite human woman balled her hands up into fists and took up a fighting stance. There was no way Samuel could run to Crem without being overtaken by Gina. No matter what, he wasn’t getting out of this without a few bruises.

To his credit though, Dupont recognized what a threat the scientist truly was. “Hi Gina… Can’t we talk about this? You know people just had to see that fight where you won a Vul love slave.” He defended, taking a few measured steps back and raising up his hands in protest. “And there was the fight a few days before that with Brent.” He added thoughtlessly as his opponent remained expressionless except for a most ominous twitch of her muscles.

Seated up in the bleachers with the rest of the Star Corps, Corporal Donka watched Gina’s expression as Dupont tried to convince her to let him go. She felt a wry grin cross her face as she admired the other female’s impractical armor but was quick to notice the only people that were smiling were her fellow GalRep troopers and sailors. When the human black market merchant mentioned Brent, the Vul techie saw a handful of humans, those that apparently recognized the name, briefly bow their heads and either clasp their hands in prayer or make a cross-shaped gesture across their chest. The specific meaning may have been an unknown to her but she was more then capable of figuring out the important details. Brent was someone special to Gina, someone that also did not survive his tenure in the Wuff’s gladiatorial arena.

To her credit, Gina did not give into raw rage, letting it drive her without consuming her. Quick as a blink, she was running after her opponent, rushing at him with the intent to deck him one across the face. The only high-pitched shriek came from Samuel as he frantically ran away to try and stay ahead of the charging lady gladiator.

He was fast but Stewart was faster, overtaking him and pouncing on him to pummel him with a quick flurry of blows. His skin began to turn a blackish purple where Gina’s gloved fist collided with his flesh, Sam pushed her away and started to crawl frantically towards Crem, scampering to his feet before breaking into an all-out run. Gina took off after him, determined to give him a couple more lumps before he could grovel at the immense Bov’s hooves for mercy. But this time adrenalin had given the convict considerably more speed and he was able to maintain the gap between his assailant and himself.

The fight then took a childishly comical turn as Samuel ran around and cowered behind the Mess Chef’s gigantic wobbly rear while Gina charged straight at Crem like the petite human actually had a chance at bowling over a Trooper who proudly weighed at least five or six times as much as she did. The sergeant merely smiled and deliberately fell backwards while scooping the human scientist up in a bear hug. Dupont was buried under the squishy twin mountains of Crem’s backside while Gina was smothered against the Bov cow’s plump breasts and pillow-like gut. The entire arena had erupted into riotous laughter but it felt like it was light-years away from Crem compared to the sensation of the human in her arms finally relaxing as the bitter venom in her veins briefly subsided…

Later…

Donka and her husband Donge relaxed in their small apartment aboard the station after enjoying a relaxing dinner. Donka wasted no time in relying the day’s events and asking if her husband knew anything about a gladiator named Brent. As she suspected, Gina apparently never mentioned her human paramour to Donge, not even mumbled his name in her sleep as far as he could recall. The memory was probably still too raw for her to talk about at that time. It probably was too raw to talk about even now which is why Donka had quietly focused on her duties and left the human alone as much as work would allow. She had wanted to know more about Gina ever since she first met her, now it was clear to the Vul that she had gotten far more then she bargained for.

The dinnerware had just been loaded into the sterilizer when the couple heard a knock on their apartment door. A very familiar voice, one Donka once wanted to know most intimately, called out from the other side of the duralloy doorway. “Damn it, I know you two are in there! It’s me, Gina. I want to show you something.”

Donka sighed and let the human woman in, stepping aside to keep from getting knocked over by the taller female charging in with a bottle of a clear, foul-smelling liquid in one hand and a pair of marble-sized translucent memory crystals in the other. Shutting the door behind them, Donka shook her head as Gina set the bottle down on the table and looked for a projector that could read the crystals.

The Star Corps corporal stared at her guest. “Ms. Stewart, are those the recordings of how you lost Brent and rescued Donge?” She asked simply.

“Yes, the only recordings left on the station now that Blackman had Dupont’s backups wiped and we’re going to watch them. Then you’re going to stop acting like I’m some damn warrior princess!” Gina fumed; surprisingly sober if the Vul vixen’s sensitive nose was anything to go by.

“No… we’re not.” Donka replied simply as the she grabbed both of the crystals out of the other woman’s hand, popped them in her mouth, and swallowed both of them with a quick draft of the rotgut. “No we’re-URP!-not.” She repeated with a belch. “We’re not stupid, we understand it quite clear now that all the pieces are in place. You’re not a warrior princess; you’re a manic-depressive workaholic. You complain about all the work the others in Blackman’s joke of a scientific wing leave you but you take it anyway because it’s something to occupy your mind with.”

Donka was prepared for the other female to take a swing at her, she was prepared to catch the blow midair or at least deflect it so her flabby STOUT-enhanced tummy cushioned it. Yet instead of fighting, Gina merely collapsed on the floor and started to sob quietly with her face in her hands. The Vul couple merely looked at each other, a sad smile on both of their lips, and sat down on the floor with her. Flabby vulpine rears squished against the hard floor and Gina’s legs as Donge hugged his tormented savior from behind and Donka made herself comfortable in the human’s lap. Her quarry’s true face revealed, Donka sucked in her breath. It was now or never.

“Gina…” She began. “You know more about us then most of your peers but do you know the joke about the Porceen and the Vul couple?”

Gina stared back at the Vul in her lap. “The one where the Porceen thinks he’s getting the wife to cheat on her husband only to have hubby walk in on them and bang the Porceen in the ass once the wife said it was okay? Never got that one.”

Donka smiled despite the setback; perhaps the only way to explain it was to just dive into it. “Vul jokes are always hard to understand. But anyway, we Vul always liked a fascinating phenomenon to study and there is perhaps none more fascinating then the nature of a sapient’s heart. After Donge and I were reunited thanks to you, we talked and decided we wanted to study yours.” She continued, producing the black felt box from where it had always been in her belt pouch and opening it for Gina. “Gina Stewart, will you marry us?” Donka asked, holding up the Vul wedding collar for the human to see.

Gina stared blankly; unable to believe this was happening. She looked from Donka to Donge, who nodded briskly with a sly smile on his face. “You mean all the nonsense was for… and even after you saw the real me you still want to…” She stammered, caught completely off guard now that Donka had revealed her true intentions. “I… I can’t. I mean I shouldn’t. I’m sorry.” She fumbled, closing the box and handing it back to Donka. “I can’t get past the fact you want a complete mess of a person in your lives.”

Donka accepted the box back, visibly undiscouraged by this reaction. “An irreparable person refuses to recognize that they’re broken. I think we can work with you.” She smiled as the Vul couple gave the human a soft hug then gradually guided her towards their bed. Gina was hesitant at first but Donka and her husband remained firm in their gentleness as they set her down on the squishy mattress. Finally trusting them enough, Stewart moaned and shuddered as the Vul couple began to introduce her to the Encyclopedia Erotica. Soon the three of them lay in an exhausted heap atop the rubber-sheathed memory foam bed, Gina exhaled and looked at her bedmates with a silent request for one more go; despite initial resistance, the masters of love had still conquered the master of war…

Light-years away from both the Hearth Star and Lighthouse Station, near the very core of the Galactic Republic, was the headquarters of the Intergalactic Police Agency. A sleek, glistening space station in the middle of a binary star system, the IPA HQ oversaw police operations across the Galactic Republic under the watchful eye of IPA Chief Bertha Hughes. Seated in a hover sofa like her peers in the Star Corps and Space Fleet, the immense equine commander of the IPA was a sight to behold as she roamed the bright, warm gray halls of the station. Junior officers quickly scrambled to get out of her way, as much because of the girth of her expansive rear as the somewhat justified reputation of her fiery temper.

While normally the IPA concerned itself with internal matters, cases of corruption, theft, murder, and so on that would be familiar in motive if not in execution to humanity, they weren’t completely immune from the recent developments occupying their peers. Such as the colony of humans on Lighthouse Station and the roving pirate city on the Hearth Star, Chief Hughes two latest headaches. As her long-suffering, industrial-grade hover sofa puttered through the expansive corridors of the station towards a certain few detectives, Bertha contemplated the current problem and the progress they made to solve it over a large high-density crueler and a huge tankard of coffee with cream. While there had been many criminals big and small that could enter and leave the Hearth Star as they wished, there had never been any known cases of captive civilians escaping from the Wuff brigands. Not until the Vul scientist Donge surfaced that is.

At first no one believed him, the report he gave to IPA officers at a fairly stable rimward world was too incredulous to be real. Yet as the initial investigation started to confirm elements of his story, strange incidents started happening. Donge started reporting threatening messages of someone promising to make life difficult for him if he did not withdraw his story and say he made it all up, yet whoever sent them must have assumed they were either untraceable or that he would be sufficiently cowed into obedience because he handed them over for the computer wizards in IPA’s Tech division to analyze when asked. And once Lighthouse Station was discovered, Hughes used her contacts with the Galactic Academy of Sciences to make sure Donge was put on the research team sent to the human colony before whoever the Vul annoyed could make good on their threats.

And with GAS’s usual scientific-exchange teams being sworn to government secrecy, there wasn’t much fear of one of the other scientists being a spy so he was safe for the time being. As much as she was still sniping with her ex-husband, she had to admit that the only way Donge could be safer then being surrounded by several dozen Star Corps troopers was if those several dozen troopers were backed up by a few hundred ex-slaves that would spray the walls with blood if it kept them from dragged back into a cage. That reminded her, she needed to meet with Governor Blackman on her own at some point to see about establishing an IPA precinct on Lighthouse Station. A chore Chief Hughes didn’t look forward to, she had already heard the reports that the food aboard the station had been “below GalRep standards” in terms of both quality and quantity until the Star Corps had taken over some of the cafeteria facilities and that Blackman was a stubborn man that only reluctantly allowed the Republic to help his people despite the considerable benefits an alliance provided.

But that was an unpleasant chore for later, right now she needed to get an update on the Donge case. A case that was looking like it was going to require a certain degree of hands-on cunning. Artfully steering her hover couch through the narrowing maze of desks and cubicles, Hughes stopped when she reached the one for Lt. Detective Clover.

“Detective Clover! Have you made any progress on the Donge case?” The blubbery mountain of GalRep justice barked at her subordinate.

Lt. Detective Clover was a female Boig officer that was currently doing a good job of living up to her species name by jumping out of her chair at the sound of Hughes’ voice. The round, pear-shaped purple kangaroo-like anthromorph was shy, soft-spoken, but inherited her species’ innate talent for economics and mathematics several fold. Making her an ideal fit for the Accounting branch of the IPA where tracking embezzlement and fraud required as much a knack for computers as it did for financial mathematics. And making her one of the best choices for quietly following the data trail wherever it may lead.

“Ma…ma’am.” Clover began, quickly swallowing the half-finished donut in her mouth. “Yes… or more accurately our friends have been.” She answered in a low voice, looking back at her superior from behind a pair of smart glass eyeglasses.

Hughes frowned slightly. She knew Governor Blackman had reactivated Lighthouse Station’s old GalRep computer systems and discreetly reconnected the starbase to the interplanetary data network. Most of the hackers and computer specialists in the Republic were unaware the station existed in the datasphere, the governor had his team of IT specialists bury their signature within the deeper parts of the sphere in order to avoid detection. From this secure position, he had his team send out feelers and monitor rumors of his species existence among the civilian population. This strict “look everywhere but don’t you dare touch anything” policy made his operatives difficult to track; the IPA stumbled upon their presence almost by accident. But now that the few Accounting and Tech officers she had on this case knew where to look, using the humans efforts to accelerate their own in this case. Still, it put the IPA between a rock and a hard place. Their mandate made them well within their right to make Blackman knock it off and press charges for cyber-crime if not espionage but at the same time doing that would just reinforce Blackman’s suspicions about the Republic. It was an argument she wouldn’t win so instead she just had her officers monitor their activity and use their findings to help direct the IPA’s own.

“What have you found?” She repeated, normally not willing to have to ask a question twice but then nothing about this case or its implications were remotely normal.

“Nothing good unfortunately ma’am. We still don’t have a convincing motive but all evidence keeps pointing back to Megacon. I know that’s not what you want to hear but we haven’t found anything that rules them out yet.” Clover answered with a slight wince, the sheepish officer doing her best to avoid quivering in front of the chief. The immense equine-like anthro knew then she was not going to like Clover’s findings.

“The colony that Drs. Donge and Souffee were conducting agricultural research at?” Hughes asked.

“Megacon was a majority shareholder in that colonization effort.” Clover replied with a nod.

“The threats Donge received after he filled out a report with the IPA regarding his kidnapping and imprisonment?” The chief continued.

“A dead end ma’am, the data trail goes cold at a mega-server on Zaron-5. Conveniently owned by Megacon.” Clover replied again.

“And the Hew-Mon rumors dominating the teamster data-forums?” Bertha added as she almost reached the bottom of the list.

“Still sifting through them to see what the origin point is but several Megacon haulers are adamant about these rumors being true. Either Megacon is behind this or someone is going through a considerable amount of effort to make them look like the guilty party.” Clover replied.

Hughes sighed. “And the colonists that were rescued from Wuffs and resettled a week ago by our friends?”

“Sponsored by a major agri-business firm… that happens to be a Megacon subsidiary. Fortunately the incident gave them grounds to renegotiate their contract.” Clover smiled slightly. “They made Megacon accept half of what they were originally going to produce. The other half is apparently earmarked for a Lighthouse Station Security Solutions LLC.” The Accounting officer’s smile broadened as both of them saw right through Blackman’s little ploy.

Hughes chuckled briefly, maybe the food on Lighthouse Station won’t be so bad after all, then grew serious again. “What do our friends seem to make of this string of coincidences?”

“They’re talking about focusing more actively on the corporaiton but their boss is very firm on leaving Megacon alone for now. Sounds like you and him might have something in common ma’am.” Clover ventured timidly.

“Perhaps we do.” Hughes smiled. Perhaps she shouldn’t put off that trip to meet with Blackman face to face after all….

“Oh what now?” Blackman groaned as station control reported a new ship flying the GalRep flag appearing in their territory. It had been a week since Samuel’s sentencing, things had finally returned to some semblance of normality. The traffic controller reported that the new ship was broadcasting the codes of an official vessel with a passenger that wanted to meet with him personally. The human governor sighed, best to not keep them waiting.

Meeting the IPA ship at the station’s cavernous hanger, two Home Guard troopers in their old uniforms by his side, Gabriel remained silent as the chief of the Intergalactic Police Agency rolled up in front of him. Even having already seen Carbloat and Bargebottom, Blackman was still taken aback by how huge the neon-yellow horsewoman was. While Bargebottom was something of a balanced pear-shaped goliath, Hughes’s body appeared to be fighting to avoid being swallowed by her awe-inspiring rear. Legs had vanished into her ballooned backside except for a pair of dainty black hooves and her obese torso and meaty arms rested against her voluminous cheeks like her rump was just another part of her chair. Yet what stood out more then her mind-boggling girth squeezed into that police blue body suit was the stern look on her moon-shaped face. This was a woman that literally embodied being large and in charge.

“Chief Bertha Hughes, I’ve heard a lot about you from the others.” He began diplomatically, secretly gratefully he chose his two most stone-faced guardsmen for his honor guard.

“And I have heard many interesting things about you Gabriel Blackman, like that you didn’t know what good food was until we established a presence here.” Hughes replied with a smirk. “And apparently you like to make justice into a public spectacle.” She added, frowning as she recalled the report of how a local man was handled for peddling blackmarket media.

Blackman snorted, as if the immense girth wasn’t enough of a clue, Hughes’ comment was definitely fitting of a GalRep lady. “Well then. I already have a rough idea why you’re here so let’s discuss the particulars in my office.” He nodded; silently wishing he could meet this mammoth alien woman anywhere but his office.

Bertha Hughes nodded and followed him as the governor turned and left the hanger with his guards. She saw that Bargebottom and Carbloat had already weakened his resistance to the Galactic Republic but she still should prepare for a stubborn argument against having the IPA squeezing in with the Corps troops and GAS scientists. Still, she contemplated as she looked at the progress her fellows had made with the station facilities so far, it didn’t look anywhere nearly as bad as she expected. No real worries about her officers losing weight judging by how some humans were starting to look like properly rounded GalRep citizens.

And she could see why the Space Fleet admiral was a bit flowery when describing the governor in her reports; Hughes contemplated with a smile. The police chief was adept at reading between the lines, Admiral Bargebottom had secretly gotten a bit smitten by Blackman and looking him over, Bertha had to agree with her assessment. Shame he didn’t see either of them the same way… oh well, business took a much higher priority. And there was certainly a lot of business to do.