Date: Wed, 10 Mar 1999 04:11:32 -0500
From: Ryx <Larkshadow@mindspring.com>
Subject: Unknown Heroes (M/M, Sci-Fi, NC)
***********
WARNING
The following story contains violence and strong sexual content. If you are
underage or offended by such materials, do NOT read any further!
If you do, it is by your own choice. The author is not responsible for the
choices YOU make.
WARNING
***********
UNKNOWN HEROES
He was White.
A ghost, a black card. His birth leaving him with too many genetic
anomalies for the strict reproduction regimens instituted by the alliance.
Left at a growth center by those that bore him, a societal discard, doomed
to the menial tasks that kept the alliance running. His was air systems
cleaning and maintenance, for which he was ideally suited in stature and
mindset, and the fact that the smell had long since been removed from the
Skunk species.
Those things that made him a black card were the distinct, unusual
coloration of his fur, his deep azure blue eyes, and his silence. The first
was an obvious strike against him the moment he was brought fourth from the
unknown female skunk that bore him some two decades in the past. The second
another strike the moment he opened his eyes. Normal eyes for his kind were
dark. Browns, blacks, the occasional slate grey, but azure blue was a
distinct oddity, a mutation. No one in the alliance ever bothered to test
mutations to determine if they were better or worse than what had come
before. His silence was simply something about him that developed at the
growth center.
His keen intelligence he never let anyone notice.
Yet he had been removed from the close, comforting confines of his
ductworks and packed into a large, sterile cargo hold and surrounded by
alliance soldier pilots. He had been the crew of a supply transport
trailing in the wake of an alliance battle fleet, escorted by a single
corvette, when a daring ambush took both ships.
Those that survived the boarding had been transferred to a prisoner
transport crewed by enemies of the alliance, packed forty to a hold. White
sat in a corner and tried to make himself invisible while he watched the
varied species of the alliance pilots talk amongst themselves, plotting and
planning. He had already learned that the transport only had a crew of
seven quite savage Tur mercenaries. No one told him these things,
studiously ignoring the ungarbed white skunk in their midst, but he was not
deaf, nor stupid.
He looked up as the cargo hold door opened with a metallic groan,
revealing a Tur coyote garbed in the ragged garb of a typical space
mercenary. At his side was a holstered power pistol, but he did not draw
it as he stepped in. In his hand was a small control pad, which he
manipulated with a thumb.
"I want one of you." the Coyote growled as he scanned the ranks of
soldiers suddenly standing to face him. Each muzzle was impassive, eyes
piercing, hackles raised under uniforms though no one moved. The puma that
White had quickly taken to be a leader among the pilots growled back.
"For?"
The coyote cackled laughter, "To kill. To beat and maim. To space if I
have the whim." he barked, aiming the hand held controller toward the back
wall. The wall thudded, sending a shudder through the bulkheads, and slowly
began to slide upward, revealing the darkness of realspace beyond. Only a
magnetic shield prevented the atmosphere, and all standing within it, from
explosively venting the second the seals opened. "I can have one, or I can
space the lot of you."
From a corner opposite White's position, to the coyote's off side, a
jaguar leapt from the ranks silently, crossing the distance from her
comrades and the coyote in a blink. A blue flash followed by a sudden dry
sizzling sound sent the feline skidding across the deck, leaving a trail of
red in her wake as a hole was blasted into her leg. The coyote had not
moved. He looked down at the cat, now writhing on the deck trying not to
howl.
"As you can see, I am not without protection. A volunteer, now." he
waved the hold control as the jaguar, "Step forward slower next time."
Even from his position in the back of the hold White could see the
coyote's gaze as it traveled over the crew, the hungry gleam as they moved
from one uniform to the next, lingering longer on the uniforms of the
males, sizing them up. White stood, unfolding himself from the corner. His
stark what was suddenly conspicuous among the darker uniforms of the
pilots. Unspeaking, he moved forward until he was standing in front of a
tall, slender rabbit that the coyote's attention repeatedly returned to.
"Him?" the coyote growled, pointing the hold control at White. Indeed,
he was suddenly the focus of every eye in the room. White nodded slowly,
partially shielding the rabbit with his tail. He saw the hunger in the
coyote's gaze sharpen as he looked the skunk over, taking in his form, not
concealed by a uniform, and finally nodded. "He'll do." he muttered without
looking from White as he backed out of the airlock door. White followed as
he heard the outer hull door thunder home and lock into place.
They coyote made White preceed him down the narrow corridor along the
spine of the ship, heading rearward toward the engines and crew quarters.
He walked head down, tail held limply behind him, no longer fanned as hit
had been to hide the rabbit pilot. He listened to the sounds of the ship
around him, the dirty hiss of the ventilators passing overhead, the dull
throbbing of the badly shielded engines making his molars tingle. He kept
his ears pointed forward, though the echoes of the duralloy hulls made his
rearward hearing clear enough for him to make out the coyote opening a comm
signal. After a brief chat the coyote laughed and stepped forward, his
rough paw coming forward to grab White on the ass. The skunk reacted
accordingly, tensing and jumping slightly. It was a play he had learned
when he was a young, small mephit in the growth center, left prey to the
larger species after the lights were dimmed.
"Now, fellow, that we do not have eyes on us, we'll have some fun."
his hand tightened more as White stood a little taller, placing the
offended facade on his features as he missed a step, shoved bodily forward
by the coyote. They came to the end of the ships spine passage, entering
into an area of branching corridors that stank of sweat and old oil. The
coyote turned him down a crossing passageway, grabbing his shoulder and
pulling him up short at one door, which read 'weapons'. The door rumbled
open with a squeal of motors and White was pushed within.
He took the room in with a quick glance. Bed, desk, standard
interface, weapons locker. All, save the weapons in the locker, in ragged
shape, stinking of the coyote that stepped in behind him. A hand on his
shoulder pushed him toward the bed, forcing him down on it when his knees
struck the edge. White moved with slow care as he seemed to struggle with
his situation, though he was not out of sorts. He watched out of the corner
of one eye as the coyote palmed open his locker, placing his sidearm
within. He turned and tabbed the door shut, the motors shrieking to drive
the heavy slab into place.
He turned his head in time to see a strong, bony hand descend,
slamming into the side of his face and knocking him flat without any
acting. He grunted and shook the stars from his vision as he heard the
coyote removing his coverings. The coyote grabbed the base of his thick
tail firmly in one hand and pushed it up toward White's head with painful
intensity, exposing the pale flesh under his tail. White barely had time to
register the grinding pain in the base of his tail when he felt the hot
touch of the coyote's tip against the tight clench of his gateway, giving
him no time to seize control of the normally involuntary muscles and relax
them.
With a groan of pleasure that echoed White's stifled groan of
discomfort, the coyote shoved the slim tip of his shaft past White's
resistances, penetrating him with a hard forward thrust, the bulge of his
knot slamming home before White's ass began spasming around the invasion.
White grabbed a double handful of the coyote's dank smelling bedcovers and
gritted his teeth, trying to gain control of his ass before the coyote's
erection grew too thick. An hand came down in the center of his upper back,
pushing his head further into the ugly smell of unwashed cloth as the
coyote enjoyed the spasming of White's ass around him. After a couple of
minutes, as his shaft rapidly began to thicken, he withdrew, his knot
sending a wave of fire and pleasure racing through White as it was pulled
bodily out.
White remained perfectly still, voicing much more discomfort that he
was actually feeling, his moans muffled by the bedcovers. He braced his
legs as the coyote began to thrust into him, first slowly, stopping when
his knot met the tight ring of the skunk's anus. Bit by bit his thrusts
increased in pace, the scrape of his and White's claws on the deck adding
to the sounds of the coyote's grunting, the skunk's quieted moans, and the
wet sound of the cock sliding back and forth in White's ass.
This went on for the better part of a quarter hour as the coyote's
passion grew with each hard thrust. Before long he had lifted White's paws
from the floor, holding him against the bed by the sheer force of his
thrusts, each one driving harder against the tight ring of the skunk's
anus. Then he let out a long groan, stopping at the completion of a thrust,
his knot grinding firmly against White's tight gate. For his part, White
played the ravished victim to the hilt, fighting his aggressor as best he
could without resorting to physically turning on him. He tried to clamp
down around the coyote's thickness just above the knot to keep him from
shoving the huge thing into him.
He did not resist entirely though, or the coyote would have done him
some damage as he dug his fingers into White's upper back and pushed with
all the strength in his narrow, powerful legs. White, his hindquarters held
aloft by his opponent, could do little to resist the force of the push, his
anal muscles stretching, then suddenly spasming as the massive knot slammed
into him, locking down tightly behind it and spasming anew. This drove the
coyote into a fit of passion, his thrusts resuming, shorter and harder for
the resistance of his knot locked in the supposedly unwilling male under
him. His claws dug furrows in the flesh of White's back, his other hand
nearly breaking the skunk's tail as he pulled it further and further
upward.
White was only worried that his tail WOULD be broken if the coyote did
not let up on it, accepting the intrusion of the coyote's desires with the
same stoicism he had accepted the approaches of the larger males at the
growth center. Back then, at first, it had never been enjoyable, but he had
grown to enjoy the act, if not the way it was often brought about. He had
never developed any strong preference for males or females, or to any one
species. He had no real species loyalty to his own kind, who had cast him
out for his pelt and eyes alone. The growth center did not segregate by
species, save with aggressive races that failed to integrate, but they did
segregate the sexes to prevent unwanted reproduction. None, thankfully in
White's eyes, were ever sterilized, but their status as a black card would
forever follow them.
This coyote, for all of his eager roughness, was actually nice in
White's opinion -- or rather -- gentle if not nice. Some of the older males
had left him barely conscious. He was the enemy, though, and probably cost
one pilot her leg, if not her life. He had heard the crew talking about the
viciousness of the Tur, and by his force and slovenliness, this one was no
real acceptation. White buried his face in the bedcovers, his body shaking
all over as the coyote put both hands on his hips and ground his cock as
deep into the skunk as he could, a growl of canid rapture rumbling from his
throat as his climax neared, peaked, and ebbed. White accepted the coyote
seed within his bowels, clenching his muscles down as if trying to eject
the thick shaft impaling him, though in truth it was, in its way, quite
pleasurable. Indeed, within the white sheath buried in the carefully tended
fur of his belly his erection jumped and pulsed with each of the coyote's
thrusts.
Eventually, though, the coyote slumped, spent, spilling White roughly
as he pulled his shaft out, releasing the skunk to fall. Unprepared,
White's hindquarters collapsed weakly to the deck, yanking his upper body
out of the bunk as he fell to the deck. He squirmed under the bunk
slightly, cowering in apparent fear (though there was *some* genuine fear
too). The coyote staggered over to the small wash stand in the corner and
cleaned himself off, leaning his head against the wall and panting, though
he always kept one eye or the other turned to catch White out of the corner
to see if he tried to do anything.
Staring, White remained where he was, curious to know what the coyote
was going to do next.
He left. The door groaned open, and shrieked closed with a thud of
finality. White was locked in the weapons chief's room. He looked up at the
weapons locker, secured with an advanced looking palm-lock. The clear front
was armoured with clear duralloy, no doubt. White would not be able to
break in and secure a weapon. White moved over to the washbasin and checked
himself for damage.
The punch to his face was tender, but little more. He had managed to
turn his head with the hit, mitigating some of the damage. His anus was
sore, as he had not been so taken by a male in several long months. Nor
female for that matter, he mused, in a longer time than that. He cleaned
himself and moved back over to the bed to wait.
Four hours later the coyote returned, startling White out of a
semi-trance as the door began its tortured shift to one side. He lurched,
curling up in the furthest corner of the bed and stared at the door with a
wild, panicked stare. The coyote stepped in, glaring at him, and tabbed the
door shut. As the shrieking ensued, he turned back to the bed, undoing the
fasteners of his utility shirt as he neared. White's eyes darted
immediately to the darker fur of his sheath as he unfastened his leggings
and kicked them off with a feral smile.
The sheath thickened even as he neared the bed, reaching out for the
panicked looking skunk, grabbing a handful of the first fur he touched, and
yanked him out of the corner. White gaped as he was yanked bodily by the
fur of his upper arm toward the coyote standing at the edge of the bed, his
sheath already showing the pink tip of his emerging shaft. As White fell
forward, the coyote shifted his grip from the skunk's arm to his head,
grabbing an handful of thick white fur.
White suddenly found himself lying on his chest, his hands thrown out
to catch his fall grasping at air as his face was buried in the thick,
sweaty smelling fur of the coyote's crotch. A hand reached under his jaw
and grabbed him securely, driving the tips of a finger and thumb in behind
White's molars, forcing his mouth open, slicing the inside of his cheek on
his teeth.
Releasing the top of the skunk's head, the coyote pulled his sheath
back, letting his half-erect shaft emerge, his furry sheath trapped behind
the swelling ball of the massive knot. No sooner had White seen this
happened than the cock was shoved into his prized open muzzle. The bitter,
musky tang filled his muzzle as the length was shoved all the way to the
back of his throat, making him gag a bit before the coyote pulled back a
little, the hand at White's jaw letting up on its painful grip enough for
him to close his mouth around the shaft. White closed his mouth around the
pulsing thickness, feeling it grow rapidly between his teeth, the bitter
flow of coyote precum chasing away the more musty initial taste. The hand
remained holding his jaw, the remembered pain of the forced opening
preventing him from biting down.
The coyote sighed, speaking something to himself in his native
language, as he pulled back on his shaft, fully two inches wide already,
and began to thrust against White's muzzle. White grabbed what he could,
the leg and edge of the bunk, to brace himself as the wolf grabbed the back
of his head with the other hand, holding his head in place as he thrust.
White's muzzle swiftly filled with the thin, bitter precum pouring
copiously from the thick shaft, dripping from the corner of his mouth. A
sudden pain raced through the back of his skull as the coyote yanked his
head backwards, making his back bow with the force.
"Swallow, damn you." the coyote growled, his face a rictus snarl, dark
eyes burning into White's pained, startled blue ones. He broke his gaze
away before White did, seeming unnerved by the lighter hued eyes staring
fearfully back at him, and let the skunk's head back down. White opened his
muzzle and accepted the dark, throbbing length before the coyote could
force the issue by crushing his lower jaw again. Satisfied that his prey
was not going to bite down, the coyote released White's jaw, putting both
hands on his head and guiding his thrusts. White gulped breaths between
thrusts, holding himself braced against the thrusts and closing his eyes.
White began to respond to the coyote's motions, bobbing his head once
he figured out the pattern of the long, hard thrusts. he let his body slump
as if giving up and going along, starting to tease the pistoning member
with his tongue, pressing upward on the underside where canines in the past
had found the most enjoyment. The coyote responded with a groan, more words
in his native tongue, and thrust faster, his knot slamming into White's
nose and foreteeth as he gulped rapidly at the steady stream of precum
soaking the back of his mouth.
The claws digging into the back of his head were a good, if painful,
warning that he was about to empty the shriveled sac below his shaft. White
loosened his throat as best he could and got a breath, holding it as the
first hot stream of viscid seed coated the back of his throat. The coyote
came on an outward pull, jetting his cum along the skunk's tongue as he
pulled back, each spasm nearly as strong as the one previous, making White
work to swallow it all.
Light but his semen tasted vile, as if he'd been drinking gun-oil
within the past few days, or some home-brewed concoction in the engine room
like most civilian long range transports. He dug at the back of White's
head, holding the end of his shaft in his muzzle as he spewed his sharply
bitter seed with pulse after pulse of his cock. White was startled at the
amount, considering a like quantity was still percolating around in his
rectum, but eventually it began to taper, and finally ended altogether.
Spent, the coyote released his head and withdrew, moving over to the
washbasin to clean himself. White suppressed a frown as he pushed himself
more fully back up onto the bed. His muzzle was certainly a lot cleaner
than his ass.
Again the coyote left, but this time for no ore than an hour. When he
returned he smelled of food and sharp liquor, leaning against the doorframe
and looking at White, curled in the corner once again. Righting himself,
the coyote padded in, his tail hanging low and motionless behind him. White
swallowed, watching the approach, having a great deal of experience with
drunks looking for sex. The heavy crunch of the first blow was silenced by
the shriek of the closing door.
Pulled up in the corner of the bed and two walls, White was a pretty
hard reach for the swaying coyote, the first blow glancing off his
shoulder. With a curse, the coyote grabbed another handful of fur and
yanked him from the corner, the other hand fisting and arcing into the air.
White was ready for the dull, raining pain of a thorough beating, using his
tail as best he could to soften some of the blows. Even with that, he was
left reeling and aching when the coyote belched, staggering over to the
washbasin and voiding the rancid contents of his stomach. Cleaning his
muzzle, he turned back to White looking a little more sober.
He shoved White back firmly, the back of the skunks legs striking the
edge of the bunk, making the second push topple him onto it. The Coyote
then climbed onto him, struggling with the clasps of his clothing. After
several frustrating tries, the coyote growled drunkenly and pointed at the
fasteners, glaring down at White. The skunk did as ordered, unfastening the
clasps and helping the coyote shed his clothes. During the entire time, the
coyote remained poised over his prey. He grabbed at White's chest and
forced him further up onto the bed, putting a leg between the skunk's and
forcing them apart.
The coyote then lowered his hips, stroking his sheath against the fur
of White's groin, the hard tip of his cock poking firmly at his thighs,
balls, and sheath as he sought the hot hole he knew was there to be
plumbed. White shifted, rising his hips so that the next thrust put the
coyote in the proper place, this time having full control of his muscles.
The penetration was far less painful, though White tensed and squirmed as
if it were agony.
With a pleased sigh and a grunt, the coyote slammed himself clumsily
home, immediately beginning to thrust, his hips rising and falling as he
drove his rapidly thickening shaft into the skunk's hot gate. White dug his
hands into the bedcovers, staring up at the coyote as he moved his hips to
soften the impact of the thrusts, tightening his anus down to prevent the
knot from locking home. The coyote did not seem to notice, lost in a
drunken fog, his world focused entirely around the hot walls caressing his
shaft.
When the skunk nuzzled his cheek the coyote did not seem to regard it
as anything more than the victims growing regard for him as master. The
weapons officer disliked prey that gave in overly easy. By his reactions,
the skunk seemed to be coming around, to desire the contact. He would have
to be spaced, his body made to drift past the opened cargo bays in plain
sight of the captured crew.
The skunk's nuzzling caress moved lower. Fully involved with his
breeding thrusts, the coyote never noticed the nuzzle at his throat.
Confusion filled his alcohol-fogged mind as the world began to turn grey,
the pleasure of his erection beginning to give over to a sharp, piercing
pain in his upper body. His throat, he learned seconds later, when the
world brightened suddenly with agony and went black.
White let the coyote fall to the floor, his last gurgling scream
hissing into silence as the skunk relaxed his anal muscles, letting the
coyote's last erection slide free, the rest of the body falling to the
deck. Wiping his muzzle, White stood up and grabbed the coyote's wrist,
lifting his hand and placing it against the palm-lock. With a beep and a
quiet hiss, the clear shielding of the weapons locker slid open. White
removed all of the weapons and used the dead coyote's palm to relock the
empty box so that any alarms aimed at detecting a weapons locker left open
would not be triggered.
His first weapon had been illegalised for nearly a century because of
its features. It was most likely the exact same weapon used to fire on the
jaguar in the cargo hold without ever being there. A tiny matter convertor
took the weapon's round apart after the electromagnets accelerated it
through the breakdown field. The round then re-materialised a meter or so
from its target, regardless of any intervening armour.
White hefted it, loaded it, and began to scan the ship though the
multi spectrum scope.
Two days had passed since the unknown, unnamed skunk had been taken
from their presence. He had been written off by all of the soldier pilots
save one, a rookie, the same rabbit the skunk had saved from some dire fate
at the hands of the coyote.
He had pondered that for much of the time he had sat in the hold,
withdrawing from his comrades. He had seen his friends die before, saving
him, each other, and civilians. The fellow had surely been a black card,
the rabbit thought, running a white fur left behind between his fingers,
but he had the bravery of any soldier in the room.
And, apparently, the tenacity.
Everyone looked up when the airlock door hissed open, prepared for
anything but the single creature that faced them. The skunk was holding a
Rekall Displacement Rifle, covered head to toe in crusted black blood, and
staring at them. The rabbit stood and moved toward the front of the crowd,
and their eyes met.
The rabbit knew why the skunk had saved him.
The skunk saw his thanks in the eyes of the rabbit.
"Ladies," the skunk whispered in a surprisingly clear, yet gentle,
voice, "the ship is ours."
Finis
Comments? Send them to Larkshadow@mindspring.com, or look for NightShade on
FurryMUCK.