Author's Note - This is a sequel to a story that isn't mine, and it uses characters and situations that I did not create. Halliday Dasker, the world of Halivar, and the Havilari people are the creation of Andrew "Aethan" French, author of a story, titled "Treasure Freely Given", that I stumbled upon while searching for naughty "cabin boy / pirate" stories on the Internet. His captain, cruiser, crew and their mission are somewhat different. They appear here, somewhat altered to better suit my own tale, with his kind permission.

DISCLAIMER - This story contains graphic descriptions of consensual sexual acts between males, some of whom are adolescent, and who are sentient, alien beings that are essentially anthropomorphic wolves, tigers and so on in a science-fiction setting, and contains elements of fetish fashion, genetic engineering, body aroma / pheremones, machine-sex, domination and submission, voyeurism, humiliation, oral sex, anal sex, oral-anal sex and watersports. If any of these things disturb you, or if reading about them wherever you live is illegal, then please do not read this story. If on the other hand this sounds like a good time, then you have found the right place. Try not to get anything on the keyboard.

Awakening

by Toni Daring

My name is Dasker, Halliday Dasker, from Halivarr, captain's mate on the starcruiser Gvadakoung. How I was captured by pirates and ended up as cabin boy to their captain is its own story. This is what happened after. Remember, I was only just off-world for the first time as a cadet travelling to the Scout Service Academy at Phojla, and had not yet done much fooling around except with other Halivarri boys in Guides and stuff, and we'd been too shy to do much. My first night with the Captain had been my first real experience.

But all Halivarri grow into their genetic imperative, in time. This has been engineered in my species to be instinctive and reflexive, our tactile senses and erogonous response heightened, our pheremone production increased and, according to some, our minds keyed to be latent psionic telempaths. Our build is small, smaller than the vargyr we were designed to serve, but lithe, supple and softly furred. Our females are bouncy and all curves. Our males are broad-shouldered, slim-waisted, well endowed in front, with a tight round bottom behind. We purr and shiver when stroked. You get the idea.

The genetic imperitave has two separate stages or factors, related in that one triggers the other. Bonding, which is an emotional imprinting upon a superior to whom one is instinctually obedient and reliant for affection, and a condition of rut which is not focussed upon the bonded mate, but is generally responsive to any stimulus and can override fight-or-flight reactions or in extreme cases even self-preservation instinct.

I understood the bonding, which I had just experienced with my Captain the previous night, enlisting in his service and letting him awaken me to my body's instinctive needs. Some strongly-bonded Halivarri sequester themselves with their bonded mate, wishing to experience their heightened needs only with that person. I had thought to do that with my Captain. The rut, triggered by my first real sexual experience, was only just beginning to lighten the darkness of my awareness. But really, I had no idea what was just starting to happen for me.

"Dasker, wake up," said the Captain, slapping my bare bottom.

My tail flicked for his wrist, but he was too quick for me. I blinked awake to the sting of the slap and my half-hard cock boucing in the previous night's wet spot. My thighs parted as I arched and stretched across the bed - my captain's bed - where I had eventually, it seems, gotten some sleep. As I stretched, the hand that had swatted me stroked up my inner thigh. "All in one piece, shipman?" The Captain's hand reached the top of my thigh and his thumb teased at my cleft. I pressed back into his hand and my tail gripped his arm as his thumb circled my trembling ring.

"Yes, sir. Just a bit - ulp! - sleepy." I yelped softly when his hand reached under me to grab my sex, his thumb still circling at my little bud. He chuckled and withdrew his hand in spite of my whimpered complaint and rolled me over onto my back. He smiled and ran his big hand up the fur of my belly, grazing nipples with his fingertips, brought his thumb up to brush my lips for me to taste him there.

"I'd love to come back to bed, but we have to get you up instead," the Captain said briskly. I looked around for my things, but the Captain just handed me a medical smock. "You are on my crew now, Dasker. You'll need a physical exam, and a uniform. Report to Doctor Courangara in sick bay. Then, see the duty officer for your assignment."

"But I thought I would be... serving you here, Sir," I said as I rose and slipped on the short hospital gown, which didn't cover my bare backside at all, and tented a bit in front, in spite of everything we'd done the night before.

"And you will, Dasker," he said more gently and gave me a personal smile before becoming serious again. "But you also have duties to the ship and her crew, as do I. See the doctor, then the duty officer. I will see you at the captain's table, Dasker, twenty-one-hundred. Dismissed."

I saluted and made my way to the passageway and the infirmary, feeling the Captain's eye on me as I left. The passage was relatively busy - I had slept well into the first duty-watch - and crewmen eyed me curiously as I passed. They had all heard the announcement from the Captain the night before that I had joined the crew as captain's mate. Now they sized me up, nudging each other and chuckling at the medical smock that left my tail and backside on display. I was blushing when I stammered the Captain's orders to the reception bot, which didn't notice but sent my on through the door to the doctor's office. "Come in, Dasker. The Captain told me to expect you." A deep, rumbling male voice. My arousal twitched, ridiculously, the tent at the front of my smock more noticeable. I pushed it down and went in.

Doctor Courangara was rakashah, a bipedal, sentient tiger. In spite of his massive size and powerful build, he seemed gentle in his lab coat and glasses in a metal frame that bridged his wide nose. He gestured toward a platform with complicated looking equipment about it, all white and sterile. The black tiles of the platform were warm to stand on and made my feet tingle pleasantly. "The system scan is painless and doesn't take too long. Just stand where you are, hands on these grips. You don't need to hold on too tight. Just so." he tapped the control console on his desk and a variety of subtle sensations swept through me. It nearly tickled.

"Not too uncomfortable, I hope?" asked the doctor. I shook my head, resisting the urge to look down. "Good, then. The scan only takes a few minutes, and while we wait for it to complete, the captain wished me to talk to you. I am a doctor of genetics, medicine, psychology and xenobiology, Dasker. It might be better if we had another Halivarri to explain things to you, but the Captain says you have a lot of spirit, and I think you'll be just fine."

"Fine with what, sir?" I asked. I was perspiring slightly, and the aroma of my own body reminded me I had not yet showered since my experiences with the Captain. I wondered if the doctor, with rakashah senses, could smell it. At the same time, I was anxious to know what concerned him.

"Dasker, like all species created in the Age of Expansion, Halivarri have certain traits that make them suited to certain things. Your particular species was altered in its genetic structure to transform an ordinary reproductive instinct into a finely tuned instrument of sensory awareness and feedback. I understand the theory, but have never treated a Halivarri awakening to their genetic imperative before. I will know from this scan what conditioning and nutrition your body needs, just as your physical measurements have been read by the central system and a uniform dispatched from stores." This last as a hatch opened, showing a tray on which were folded crisp, white garments.

"Go ahead and get dressed while I process the data," suggested the doctor. "Your wrist unit has been keyed to medical monitoring, just as a safety precaution." I was still tingling from the scan as I stepped to take the clothes from the hatch. There was no screen to change behind. I blushed and took off my smock. The doctor gave me a small smile and looked back to the display on his console. I took the pieces of my uniform and put them on.

The uniform consisted of white shipman's pants, belled at the calf but snug otherwise with panels buttoned on each side in front and back and an open fly for my tail, and a white, short-sleeved shipman's shirt that covered my shoulders and the top part of my chest, but left my abdomen bare from my nipples (the top pair that is, the other two smaller pairs further down my abdomen being exposed as well) to the low-riding waist of the trousers, the back panel hugging my rear with a glove-snug fit and the front cradling my half-aroused sex like an arm in a sling. Shimpan's boots of impervic molded themselves to the arch of my feet.

"The captain wants you to have plenty of interaction with the crew," explained Doctor Courangara in his soothing tones, "so you will be assigned ordinary shipman's duties for part of your day. You also will follow a regular program of physical exercise since, although perfectly healthy, you are not conditioned to the demands of starship life, and this will correct that. Do not omit the massage session following your exercises. It is a necessary part of your condition training."

The doctor paced with silent steps, circling me as he spoke. "You may find your developing senses are distracting or overwhelming as your body adjusts, Dasker, so I am prescribing this anti-anxiety medicine. Use it when you need it." He pressed a bottle of small, pink tablets to my wrist unit, which stored them for me. "Let me know if you need anything at all, Dasker. The gymnasium system will walk you through the exercise program in the third watch."

"Yes, sir, and thank you, doctor." He saw me to the door and as I walked past he let one massive paw gently pat my bottom. It felt heavy and huge. I squirmed just a bit, a seam of the snug pants slid along the cleft of my rear as my sex swelled. I felt myself blush, but when I looked back the doctor had gone.

As I made my way back out to find the duty officer, I felt the uniform cling and slide, slick and snug against my skin. My underarms felt damp but looked dry, as did my pants where the front panel bundled around my sex. The hem of the shirt just brushed at my top nipples, makining them stiffen. A crewman whistled as I passed and, not having any better plan, I asked him where I could find the duty officer.

"Aw, you have a watch? Too bad. I was hoping you could have lunch with me." He grinned wolfishly and his eyes ranged over me. I blushed. His own shipman's uniform flattered his rangy build and hugged his taut thighs. The front panel of his pants didn't look damp, but I could see the plain outline of his sex, its tip just peeking out of his sheathe. "Name's Orngg." He offered a hand. I gave him mine and he squeezed gently, with a stroking thumb, and drew me closer. "What's yours?"

I could feel the warmth of his body in the small space between us, and his vargr senses could surely smell what I could. "Halliday, or Hali..." I stammered a bit. My tail reached and curled around his leg.

"Murchar is duty officer. D-deck, right at the lift." He tilted his head to indicate the direction as he spoke. "But maybe I'll see you later, if you get sent to engineering or shuttle-bay. I work third watch with my mates."

"I have gymn, third watch, but after that nothing until twenty-one hundred."

"I'll come to the gymn after third watch, then, Halliday," He drew my hand in his down my body to stroke at all three of the nipples along that side with his thumb, "...or Hali." His callussed thumb slid along my waistband, my hand still enfolded by his. "You can meet my mates."

"Uh..." I hesitated. My sex throbbed, and my pants became even more snug. I was very aware of Orngg being very aware of me and I didn't know what to think about it. A shrill whistle called the watch, and I jumped.

Orngg grinned and stepped back. "It's a deal, then. Don't let old Murchar give you a hard time. D-deck." He swatted me on my bottom and I bit my lip recalling the Captain that morning and the doctor just a moment ago as he headed off with a parting grin. I pulled myself together and headed for the lift. I couldn't understand what had come over me, but when I thought about Orngg I knew I'd hang around the gymn later to see him again.

I thought also of Doctor Couranga's bottle of pills as the lift descended to D deck, but I'd stopped perspiring and was more or less getting used to the tight uniform, and decided I didn't really need one. The lift door opened for D deck, and I stepped out into a utilitarian corridor, dimly lit, humid and rattling with distant activity. It was my first visit to the working part of the ship. Previously, I'd only seen the passenger deck.

"Captain's mate Dasker reporting for duty, sir." The duty officer was grizzled and unsmiling as he raked me with eyes that missed very little.

"You're late, shipman," he said. "Doctor cleared you for duty nearly ten minutes ago." He waited for me to explain, but I knew better.

"I am sorry, sir. No excuse, sir."

"You might think being captain's mate gives you privileges on this ship, Dasker, but lets get one thing straight." His voice was nearly a snarl. "I'm duty officer. You're crew, and while you are a shipman on this vessel you will answer to me first and wag your tail at the men on your own time, understood?" Yes, he knew I was Halivarri. I didn't bother to contradict him or explain.

"Understood, sir."

"I had meant to start you off easy, Dasker, but I can see that was a mistake. Instead, I am sending you down to E-deck. You will find cleaning supplies in the supply closet. Clean up the aft relief station, then head forward and clean that one, as well. Your wrist unit will instruct you in ship procedure, and your duty ends when you are finished, not at third watch. All that clear, shipman?"

"I have exercise in the gymnasium third watch, sir, doctor's orders."

"Too bad. You finish here first. Doctor isn't duty officer, Dasker, I am. Tomorrow you will be on time. Now, get to it." At least he didn't smack my rear. His hands looked big and meaty. I wondered what that smack would feel like. This is crazy, I thought, but just muttered "Yes, sir," as I saluted and took the lift down to E-deck.

E-deck was dimmer, dirtier, warmer, and more humid, and I had to look around to find the supply closet. I'd expected a mop, but instead there were just a sort of towel with two sides, one textured for scouring, the other soft cloth, with a disinfectant sort of smell. The packaging rated them for cleaning all surfaces. I took one for the aft relief station and another for the forward, as each was only intended to cover so much area and that is what my wrist unit recommended.

My nose gave me a hint as to what a relief station was if the duty officer's attitude hadn't, and as I came to the end of the aft passage I saw I was right. The relief station was the crew urinal for the aft half of E-deck, which served the cargo bays and ship support systems, and seemed to either get a lot of use or else not get a lot of cleaning, or maybe the duty officer only assigned someone here when he was in a bad mood.

It was a long, narrow room, with doorways at either end, and drains spaced along a sort of trough in the floor beneath a tiled impervic wall. The drains would empty into the water reclamation system, but it looked like the crew came and went in a hurry here. Much of the floor would need to be wiped down from backsplash, and the tiled wall looked pretty gamey as well. I sighed and opened a towel, consulted my wrist unit, and set to work.

I had not yet finished in the aft station when two short whistles sounded the half-watch and some crewmen on break came in to relieve themselves. I ignored them at first, though they nudged each other and joked among themselves at me washing the floor on my hands and knees. I heard one of them say, "captain's mate", some more lauging, and then a few of the bigger ones headed over to the end of the room where I was cleaning the floor beside the trough.

"He looks Halivarri, alright," said one of them, looking me over as he opened the front flap of his trousers, took out his piece, and sprayed down the wall beside me with a grunt. "Can tell by the way they stick their ass in the air what's on their minds."

"Yeah," said his mate, coming around behind me and unfastening his trousers. "Cute little fucker, ain't he?" He tugged at his cock a little before letting loose. He angled his stream so that his backsplash sprayed around me. Others were crowding around this section of wall as well. "Oops, you'll have to clean that up, won't you."

I looked back to the first, who still had his cock out, stroking it as his friend sprayed down the floor near me. Others were cupping themselves in their pants as they watched. "Uh, why don't I get out of your way here," I said, standing. A hand from the crowd behind me stroked the back seam of my pants, and my tail curled to meet it.

"Now, where's the fun in that?" asked the leader, a brawny shipman who chucked a knuckle under my chin to make me meet his eye as he played his free hand over my bare belly, ruffling my fur and stroking my lower nipples. "It true you're from Halivarr?" My hips arched reflexively as his hand stroked lower and my sex was slick and seeping in my pants.

"Uh, yessir," I muttered. It was like the encounter with Orngg, only there were so many of them all around me, getting in close to touch my fur or stroke my tail. The hand caressing my backside stroked down my cleft to tease the seam where it rubbed at my tight ring and I gasped.

"You have the responses, alright," he said with a knowing grin as he pinched at a nipple. "Too bad we only have a few minutes. Come back when we're off-duty and we'll show you some real hospitality. This is just to give you something to think about till then." He drew me close and kissed me, with the smoky taste of chatang gum to him which I mostly don't like, but he played his thumb along the front of my pants and I arched against him instinctively and shivered. His crewmates laughed and leered, then filed out at the whistles sounding the end of their break, until I was left alone, dizzy and panting.

The outside of my pants still looked clean and dry where they hugged my sex, but when I slipped a hand inside to feel, I was sticky and seeping, and the scent of my arousal was even thicker around me than the stink of the urinal. I was having difficulty breathing. My wrist unit chimed. "Medical monitoring detects sensory overstimulation," came a reassuringly neutral digital voice with the same calm bass timbre as the doctor. "Symptoms may be alleviated by doctor's perscription." I remembered the pills, took one, and was soon feeling much less overwhelmed, almost at a distance to myself, and was able to finish in the aft relief station and the forward one as well without further interruption, and made it to the gymnasium not far into the third watch.

I had the training equipment to myself at this hour, by the doctor's arrangement I felt sure. Unlike the duty officer or the rough crewmen on E-deck, I got the feeling that Doctor Couragara understood that I needed time to myself to sort out all my reactions to my new life as a shipman and captain's mate. The medicine kept me alert and focussed on the exercise regimen, which was demanding in some ways but gave me something to pay attention to instead of the barrage of sensations my body had awoken to. Although the work-out caused my clinging uniform to slide and stretch over my skin, my arousal had subsided and if I thought of my reactions to Orngg or the crewmen on E-deck, it was with a detatched sort of interest and I didn't dwell on it.

I ended the workout routine, and my wrist unit directed me to an automated massage cubicle. I peeled off my shirt, trousers and boots and laid prone on the padded table as directed. The impervic plass surface was warm and molded to my body as I stretched out and felt the massage-arm swing over to knead at my shoulders and the nape of my neck. I sighed and relaxed, thighs parting instinctively as the automated system analyzed muscle fatigue and tension and directed its steady efforts to each point in turn.

"The patient is dehydrated and requires nutrient replenishment," came the soothing voice of the medical monitor, and I found I was indeed thirsty. "Drink from the black nozzle until thirst is alleviated." A rubbery tube emerged near my lips, which drew on it and tasted cool fruit juice with a bit of a tang. I drank deeply, and felt myself relax further.

"Is there something funny in this?" I stopped long enough to ask.

"The nutrient drink contains water, sugars, trace minerals and supplemental vitamins matched to your metabolic requirements," said the digitized voice, "as well as muscle relaxants and a mild euphoric. The patient will drink until he is no longer thirsty." I shrugged. Doctor Couraganda had prescribed the restorative, and I was really thirsty. The massage unit was working my neck, shoulders and down my back steadily.

As it spread to the small of the back my tail twitched and I bucked against the impervic plass padding of the table, parting my thighs. When I had enough to drink, the nozzle withdrew and I laid my head on the cushion to enjoy the massage. Automated fingers kneaded at the base of my tail, which curled instinctively around an arm of the unit, which responded in turn by applying enough tension to stretch my tail pleasantly as the kneading worked the aches and stiffness from my buttocks . I would have squirmed but was too well-sedated to move much.

"Medical monitoring detects residual tension induced by ongoing sensory stimulus," came the calm, expressionless voice of the system synthesizing the deep rumble of the rakashah doctor. "Diagnostic systems recommend modification of treatment parameters to proceed with patient affirmative." I felt further massage apparatus lower over my backside and thighs, then pause.

"Uh, affirmative," I replied. I was too comfortable to object and the fingers playing around the base of my tail felt really good. Then the pliable fingers of the massage unit began stroking along the inside of my thighs and the soles of my feet, the units kneading my buttocks began to glide along my cleft, and my hips arched against the padding beneath me. The table pulsed warmly as it conformed more closely to my torso, applying gentle, stroking suction to all six of my nipples, and even opening between my legs to engulf my arousal in quivering impervic gel, which constricted to tug slickly and slide my foreskin around the crown of my cock. The massage manipulators zeroed in on my tight pucker, still a bit sore from my night with the Captain, and softly stroked there applying a soothing cream.

I began panting and the black nozzle emerged again, and my lips suckled there instinctively. The taste was different this time. I liked it. "The nozzle is now configured for sensory response and therapy feedback, and will reintroduce bodily fluids depleted by tension release, allowing replenishment to accompany treatment at the patient's direction." I didn't quite follow that, but I did notice that the pace of my suckling at the nozzle was matched by the tugging around my cock and suction at my nipples. I licked the nozzle experimentally and felt the swipe of my tongue conveyed to my own nipples and sex, and even to the sore, shivering bud below my tail.

There was only just enough fluid seeping from the nozzle to get a taste, but I knew I was drinking the precum seeping from my cock along with some of my own perspiration. I bucked reflexively at the impervic gel about my captive sex, and began to really go to work on that nozzle. The sensation relayed to my body was incredible, and I was intoxicated by my own scent, part sexual arousal, part adolescent sweat and even a lingering hint of the relief station's funk. A soft pressure stroked at my ring until I relaxed, then began to slowly thrust into me. My hips pushed back to meet it, and I came.

My whole body shook with my release, and the nozzle gushed warmly into my mouth with the slightly salty, slightly bitter flavor of my own seed, which I drank down eagerly. For a timeless while I lost track of everything but the sensations stirring me as I bucked and squirmed under the caresses of the massage unit driven by my body's urgency. In time, a second orgasm shook me, and eventually a third, though by now my seed was getting thin and watery. I began to feel sleepy and drifted off, still rocking myself slowly against the apparatus, and then knew nothing.

A hand swatted my bottom. "Hey, I thought you were done at the end of third watch." I looked up. The massage unit had withdrawn once I fell asleep, and now Orngg was grinning at me. "Must have been some workout," he said, scenting the air with a grin. I couldn't help but notice his arousal given the fit of his shimpan's pants, out of its sheathe nearly to the knot and splayed against his thigh under the tight fabric. "I finished early, but didn't want to, uh, interrupt," he said with a grin, "so I just watched. You've been under for nearly an hour."

"Um, doctor's orders," I replied. My sex had been released by the impervic plass beneath me, and had the plumpness of half-arousal in its sated state that had been more or less continuous since the previous night, at least when it wasn't throbbingly hard. I reached for my clothes, sat on the edge of the table and dressed.

"If you'd waited, I might have been able to help with some of that, you know, instead of wasting it on a machine. How was it, though?" Orngg watched me dress, then offered me a hand up.

"It was, uh... good, I guess." When I stood he didn't let go of my hand but stroked it with his thumb and drew me closer. "I feel great." And I did. I felt well rested for the first time all day, relaxed, clear-headed and alert. I let myself me drawn and his free hand stroked the fur of my belly as he leaned in.

"I'll bet," he grinned. "How was your duty-watch? You smell like E-deck." He didn't seem to mind, and my tail reached around to curl around his thigh. "Or, rather, you smell like E-deck after a six parsec hump. I thought you would break that massage bot."

"I was late, so the duty officer gave me latrine duty. And this work crew came in when I was cleaning and..." I trailed off, not quite how to express what had happened there. Orngg's free hand cupped the nape of my neck and I rested my head on his chest, nuzzling where his uniform shirt exposed his fur.

"They ganged you bad enough to need a medical bot?" Something in his voice sounded angry, I looked up, but he only looked concerned for me, his eyes warm and grave.

"No, no... they just, uh, made more work for me and kind of fooled around on me while they did it. It confused me, but I wasn't hurt. Just... worked up. Then they left."

"Worked up enough to need every manipulator arm the massage bot has, hunh?" He was grinning again, his hand stroking down my back to my tail. My hips arched and I felt his warm sex snug against mine. I shivered and purred. "So long as you'll still come for a drink and to meet my mates, then?" It was a request, but a hopeful one.

"If you like. Should I use the fresher?" I was acutely aware that I still had not washed, and even felt traces of the massage unit's lunbricants under my uniform.

"Don't you dare. I love how you smell right now." He licked at my ear and slowly bucked his arousal against mine. "Everyone with think I got you like this and will be jealous." He grinned and nipped my neck.

"Now you're teasing me," I half-protested, acutely aware of my state after a night with the Captain, duty on E-deck, a workout and my massage.

"Not at all," he smiled toothily. "See, if I were teasing I'd just leave you like this, but I have something better in mind later". His hand stroked under my tail slowly and I parted my legs a bit, squirming as the seam slid against my slick ring. "But I want my mates to meet you first."

"Well, if you like. Where to?" I stepped back a bit and struggled to tuck myself into my pants in a way that my arousal wasn't completely obvious, without much success.

"There's a canteen for crewmen, food and drink. A bit expensive for every day but tonight it'll be my treat. What is your pay schedule?" He led me from the gymnasium down the passage toward the lift.

"Uh, pay?" I hadn't even thought about it.

"You're on the crew, right? Captain said so. And if you are pulling duty watches already, you'll be getting paid some time." He grinned. "For now, don't worry about it. I got paid yesterday, so I can cover you. Whatever you like."

"Uh, not if it's too expensive, Orngg, I mean..." He cut me off before I could finish.

"We all know you didn't exactly plan on being here. I talked to my mates and we've decided you could probably use some friends to help you adjust to ship life. This isn't the passenger liner we kidnapped you from, and it isn't school. Things could have gotten ugly with that crew on E-deck. Please, Hali, it's not just that you're Halivarri - not really. I mean..." Orngg trailed off uncertainly. I could tell what my scent was doing to him, but he was too considerate to pressure me.

"Hey, no - its okay. I'd like to meet your mates, maybe get something to eat? I'm starving. But when I do get paid, next time is on me."

He smiled. "It's a deal then. Come on."

The canteen was a spacious lounge forward on C-deck, dimly lit, with viewports showing the starstreams streaking through the hyperspatial matrix in all the colors of the spectrum. Small tables were set back in alcoves along the wall, and I followed Orngg to the back to where four other crewmen were waiting. They looked variously surprised, pleased to see us, or both.

"Hey, you really weren't kidding!" said the closest, a young vargr with a lot of red in his pelt. "It's the Halivarri, alright. I so owe One-eye now. I had a bet that you were just making it up." Orngg grinned, and a burly, scarred vargr at the back of the booth chuckled aloud.

"Don't worry, Yrrvng, I'll take it in trade," said the one called One-eye. The red-furred vargyr seemed to blush, or at any rate closed his mouth long enough for Orngg to introduce me.

"Mates, this is Halliday Dasker, or Hali. Yes, he's from Halivarr and if you're nice maybe he'll tell us about it. Hali, this is Yrrvng, One-eye, Arrvis and Chooch. " Arrvis was a black-furred vargr, older than Orngg and much older than Yrrvng who I guessed to be around my own age of sixteen, but not as grizzled as One-eye. Chooch smiled a bit distantly. He had beads and feathers plaited into the ruff of fur that framed his muzzle and he was smoking something sweet in a slender silver pipe. His eyes didn't seem to focus on me as he looked my way and spoke.

"So came the Bird of Thunder to the son of the chieftain and rapt him away to the Heavens." I couldn't tell if this was part of a story he had been telling before I arrived, a blessing, or a poem. The others took no exception to his utterance, so I just gave a sort of a nod. Orngg leaned close to my ear to explain.

"Chooch is our dreamseer, or chaplain for the Hand of the Maker. Don't let the dreamgrass mislead you, he has great gifts." I nodded, and he grinned at his crewmates. "Now, shove over, Yrrvng, so we can squeeze in." He patted my bottom again and I let myself be led to a seat, winding up with the young vargr on my left and Orngg on my right. As I settled in, I saw Yrrvng's nose twitch, and he gave Orrng a sidelong look, then grinned at me.

"Menu's on the table display. Since you're new here, it's our treat," said Yrvnng affably, but I noticed him shift a bit on the bench seat, and felt his thigh brush against mine, raising my temperature a notch. "Just stay away from anything marked in green - that is xenovore fare and would really not go down too well."

I turned my attention to the menu, trying not to be distracted by Orngg's arm around my shoulders or Yrrvng on my other side. It was a fairly broad menu for a starcruiser. I could tell eating here was something of an occasion.The musky scent of male vargr was all around me and I was finding it difficult to concentrate. I tried hard to think about food, but wound up ordering the first thing that looked good.

At the same time, I was aware of the impression my own scent must be making with Orngg's friends. He was grinning to himself, and they were eyeing him and me speculatively. The others registered their own orders with the catering unit after careful consideration, and Orngg ordered a pitcher of Otahi ale for the table while we waited. The crisp, heady taste sharpened my appetite as it relaxed me.

"Been away from Halivar long?" This from Arrvis, speaking for the first time.

"Um, not really. I did a semmester's orientation at Norn, then was on my way to the Academy at Phojla when our ship fell into your ambush."

"Yeah, sorry about the whole kidnapping thing," offered Yrrvng. "But like the captain explained, sometimes it is the only way to get our message across to the Imperium. No one was hurt, and everyone but you has kept to the passenger deck and will be freed for ransom when we reach Alyxs."

"No, no, I told the captain and now I am telling you. I know his mission and I agree with it - with all of you. This is better than the Academy. I only hope I can help." I wanted the crew to know I was in it for the cause, as well. Some time I'll try to explain what the Captain was fighting for, but just now the details aren't important.

"Hope is the Hand of the Maker reaching for tomorrow. Where intent is pure, his blessings surely follow," said Chooch with a dreamy smile. "Our captain has found new heart, and the crew is pleased for him. Pleased as well to have a Halivarri with us, whom the Maker shaped to show his lovingkindness to us all."

"Hear, hear," said One-eye, reaching past Yrrvng to tousel my hair and stroke at my ear. "This ship has needed a change of luck, and everyone knows a Halivarri is lucky on board a starship. And easy on the one eye I've got." His grin was even toothier than Orngg's. I felt Yrrvng, pressed against me by One-eye, shyly stroke a hand along my thigh and pressed back. On the other side, Orrng smiled to himself and sipped his ale, occasionally stroking at my tail where it was still curled around his thigh.

Arrvis nodded at the shaman and One-eye and raised his glass, "To Halivarr, then, and to captain's mate Halliday Dasker, and the Hand of the Maker uphold him." The quiet vargr smiled to Orngg in a way I didn't quite follow, but I lifted my own glass in salute and drank.

"To Halivarr." The toast echoed around the table in five vargr voices and my own.

"Do you miss it at all?" asked Yrrvng. I had the feeling that his first tour of duty away from home must have been hard for him.

"Not really. I have hardly had time to yet, and everything here is all new to me. I'll miss my family, and maybe my friends, but I'd planned to be four years at the Academy in any case, so it's not so bad. And I'll see so many new places now."

"I bet your friends miss you, though," said Yrrvng, as he breathed against my neck. Vargr communicate a great deal by scent, and as Orrng had expected my night and day so far had layered me in a variety of interesting odors. For his part, Yrrvng smelled of welding flux, active adolescent vargr with a hint of, yes, E-deck under the overwhelming aroma of beer. The combination was not unappealing.

"Oh, most of them were off to work or school already, really. I was the runt of the litter." I shrugged. I had not been anyone special on Halivarr, except to my folks. "I guess my parents do, but they still have my sisters and brother at home."

"I have brothers," said Yrrvang. "I'd miss them without my mates. I was the youngest at home, too." His breath tickled the fur of my chest where my shirt stopped. I looked over to Orngg to see if he minded but he was just smiling and stroking my tail along his thigh. One-eye grinned, drank and patted Yrrvng's head fondly. It was plain that the scarred greymane had taken the younger under his care, and quiet Arrvis had an affinity with the mystic. Of the five, Ornng seemed the odd one out. The food arrived before I had much time to think about that.

During the meal, I learned what their work routine was like as technicians in the engineering section. Only Arrvis and the dreamseer, Chooch, seemed to regard me in a peculiarly spiritual light, though the Hand of the Maker was pretty well established among vargr in this quadrant of space, and I knew Halivarri were regarded as the Maker's gift to the faithful and industrious.

One-eye was the pack elder, and seemed pleased to include me as a sort of mascot for the prestige my presence the captain's mate, brought him, alpha of his work crew. Yrrvng was clearly eager to make a new friend and Ornng basked in the pleasure of having been the one to introduce me, his hands wandering often enough to remind me he was pleased to have me beside him, and he frequently patted or stroked my tail where it wrapped his thigh.

We'd finished the meal before fifth watch and I wasn't expected by the captain until the sixth, so One-eye asked if I'd care to come to their quarters, as the canteen was getting full and rather noisy. I looked to see what Orngg though, and he nodded, so I agreed. Yrrvng was sent ahead to make the place presentable, and the rest of us had another pitcher of ale to give him a head start. As we walked from the canteen to the aft quarterdeck, Orngg explained their arrangement to me.

"We vargr are strongly social, and our work groups are like surrogate families to us. I signed on with Arrvis eight years ago, One-eye was second to our section chief, we had a company clerk instead of a chaplain, and of course Yrrvng hadn't elisted yet. On our second tour, Arrvis and I split up, not over anything bad, but he wanted to get more into the Hand of the Maker, and Chooch had joined the crew. One-eye became section chief and took Yrrvng, uh, under his wing when he joined us on this tour. He's a good pup, and Arrvis is still a friend, but I bunk alone."

I took this in as we made our way to their den, a common room, catering unit and fresher, and four sleeping cubbies, one of which was opened out as a couch onto the common room, the other three set back as beds. The den was cozy, warm, dim, and the air dense with the scents of prolonged occupation. Orngg steered me to the couch, absently fiddling with the base of my tail. Yrrvng met One-eye with a stiff drink in a small glass. Arrvis and Chooch hoped I'd have a pleasant stay, but excused themselves from joining us.

"Hand of the Maker service," explained One-eye, "It's more than I have time to bother with, but I stll say a Halivarri is good luck. And if I don't read it wrong, Orngg here is feeling lucky already. Been hard for him, losing his mate to that mystic, though he doesn't complain much. What's this I hear of trouble on E-deck?" He paced and sipped his drink, but shooed Yrrvng to sit beside us on the couch, and Orrng pulled me into his lap to make room.

"Uh, no trouble really. Just a work crew horsing with the new guy. You know how it is." I shrugged.

"Know how it was when they got rough with Yrrvng that one time. I'd have airlocked the bastard if the cap'n hadn't put him in the brig until we made port, then discharged him. You have any more trouble, you let me know."

I promised I would, and figured if I could catch a hint of E-deck on Yrrvng tonight - and I could with him sitting beside me - he hadn't been scared off for life, and maybe whatever arrangement he had with One-eye didn't preclude him going there in his off-time.

"Is E-deck that dangerous?" I asked Yrrvng as he settled closer, sniffing at my neck again now that he didn't have a meal to distract him.

"Not really. They can be alright, just get a few hard cases now and again. Mostly with green recruits, like me." He shrugged and I slipped my arm around his shoulder. "And One-eye likes the smell on me. It reminds him he's my hero." He grinned, and One-eye smiled fondly. "I like the smell on you, too. Next time you have duty there, let me know?"

"Told you," Orngg murmured in my ear. I could feel his arousal against my seat, and his hand closed over mine to stroke along the fur of my belly slowly.

"Told you, what?" asked Yrrvng. His muzzle was sniffing along the collar of my shirt, his eyes watching Orngg stroke me with my own hand.

"Hali wanted to use the fresher before coming to meet you. I told him he smells good," explained Orngg as he drew his thumb along the waist of my tight pants and cupped my hand in his along my sex literally under Yrrvng's nose. I could feel his own cock, unsheathed to the knot, pressed along the vale of my ass and I rocked slowly in his lap.

"You do smell good," said Yrrvng. "I want to lick you." And he did: the warm, wet tip of his tongue darting out to lap at my right nipple where it showed pink below my uniform shirt. Orngg's hand still stroked mine along my sex, occasionally unfastening a button of my pants. I shivered and squirmed.

"How do I taste?" I asked.

Yrrvng grinned "Like our captain had you up all night before duty-watch on E-deck and a workout after, and you haven't used a fresher since. Am I right?"

"Yes," I admitted as he lapped at my nipple again, then nuzzled lower to find the next one. Orngg unfastened another button and arched against my seat, panting against my neck. I realized his trousers were undone in the front and his bare cock was pressing against the slick, dry fabric of my uniform pants. One-eye had finished his drink and was watching us with a speculative look. Earlier in the day, I'd been embarrassed by looks like that from the crew, but I felt safe here, or something.

"Were you really under the massage bot for two hours?" asked, Yrrvng, still nuzzling lower to the nipple just above the waist of my trousers. Orngg has the buttons all down one side of the front panel unfastened, and had slipped my hand with his into my pants to wrap around my hard cock, the callus of his thumb teasing my foreskin.

"Yes. After E-deck I was ... having trouble relaxing." I became aware of Orngg's other hand moving to undo the buttons of the back panel of my pants. I shifted a bit to give him more room to do so and he made a sound like a growl in my ear and pumped my cock more deliberately in my grip.

"Did it... do the thing with the nozzle?" Yrrvng's muzzle was nosing at the open waist of my pants, his breath hot on my sticky skin and ruffling the thatch of fur below my navel.

"You mean where I could lick it and feel my tongue lick at my nipples...?" I asked, "and at the tip of my cock, and even, you know, lower down?" I arched my hips and he buried his nose in my pubes while Orngg folded down the back panel of my pants and pulled me back to slide his sex along the cleft of my bare ass.

"Yeah, that's what I mean." Yrrvng lapped along my seeping cock as Orngg pumped it with my fist, and I rocked my bare bottom slowly along his pole.

"And where I'm tasting my own juice the whole time, and the massage bot is slowly spreading me and vibrating under my tail and pumping my cock as I suck on it?" My cleft was wet from Orngg sliding up and down in the remaining massage lubricant and I felt him shift to press the tip of his cock against my quivering bud.

"Yeah, like that," panted Yrvngg as he lapped at my hand and Orngg's and nuzzled all around the root of my sex. I looked past his head in my lap and saw One-eye had come up behind him and was stroking down his back to the base of his tail which is wagging against a pronounced bulge in at the front of One-eye's trousers.

"And when I cum, my spunk is fed back to me for as long as I keep at it?" I trailed off in a whimper as Orngg's thick cock speared my ring, sliding in with a single slow thrust until I could feel his knot snug against me before drawing back out.

"Mm hmm..." Yrvnng's tongue skinned back the head of my cock and his teeth nipped its length. "Did it?"

"And then it gets a massager past my ring and is thrusting there, pumping in and out, in and out as I lick and suck the nozzle for the taste of my own seed?" Orngg nipped my neck and pumped in and out slowly as I spoke, teasing at forcing his knot in as well.

"Yeah, like that." I stroked my cock all along Yrrvng's muzzle as I rode Orngg's thick cock with my quivering hole. "And did you have to piss?" Yrvnng murmured against my cock and then gasped softly as One-eye thrust into him from behind.

"I didn't then," I said, "But I do now..." The ale had been making me uncomforatable for a while, though I was only just noticing it. I let just a few drops squeeze out to wet Yrrvng's muzzle.

"Do it now, then." His warm brown eyes met my own as he panted against my wet cock.

"Told you," Orngg murmured again in my ear and gave another testing thrust against my stretch-sore ring with his knot, and I could feel his vargr cock seeping steadily inside me. "Go ahead, he wants you to. So do I."

While all this was going on, the Captain was meeting with Doctor Courangara. I wasn't there, but the conversation was logged by the central system, and later my Captain would tell me about it. They met in the captain's ready-room, just off the bridge.

"Well, doctor, how is the patient?"

"Dasker? As healthy a young Hallivari as I have ever seen. While I have never treated one awakening before, medical monitoring shows him well within the known parameters of health for his age and species, and only one episode so far which required medical intervention."

The Captain frowned. "Yes, about that incident. On E-deck, was it? If it is anything like what happened to young Yrrvng, I'll want to..."

Doctor Courangara "No, Arrhnn. Nothing like that." The rakashah laid one steadying paw on the Captain's shoulder, and continued in a soothing voice. "Monitoring indicates sensory overstimulation. I've analyzed the report, and it was the chemicals in the cleaning pads that disoriented Dasker. He was not hurt in any way, and in fact completed his duty-watch and the following condition training."

The Captain nodded at this. "So the massage session was..."

"Simply a part of his condition training," assured the doctor. "And also a way for me to collect relevant data that an ordinary physical exam couldn't provide."

"And?" said the Captain

The doctor considered, staring out the viewport at the multihued starstreams beyond. "Arrhnn, I am a scientist, and not a vargr, so you know I don't have much interest in the Hand of the Maker, but sometimes I could almost believe."

The Captain arched his scarred eyebrow and cocked the opposite ear. "Tell me."

"Vargr are gifted with a relatively sophisticated olfactory sense, within an eight-tone, twelve-note perceptual range. Our young Hallivari has begun to produce pheremones across a ten-tone, sixteen-note range that completely covers the vargyr scent-perceptum."

The doctor paused, then continued. "It even extends into the range of my own more limited field of response. Given the chaotic territorial signals in the E-deck relief station, the attention from the crew could hardly have been avoided. I'd say on the whole they showed an admirable restraint, and that your example in the case of young Yrrvng was salutory."

"Then you do not think it was a mistake to have him mix with the crew?"

"Not at all. We shouldn't isolate him in his current state, certainly. His genetic imperitive cannot be met solely by massage robots and you, my friend. And keeping him from the crew would only stir up resentment of your own fortune in bonding him."

"I see," said the Captain. "Where is he now?"

"Monitoring shows him on C-quarterdeck, Captain."

"Alone?"

"Not at all. He is with shipmen Frrngr, Orngg and Yrrvng, in their quarters."

"A good crew." The Captain nodded. "Thank you, doctor. I will see you at dinner. That will be all."

"You were late at dinner, Dasker." The Captain paced behind me. I stood at parade rest where he'd had me wait when we'd come into his quarters. I could smell the whiskey in the glass he carried. He could certainly smell me.

"Yes, sir." The whiskey reminded me of One-eye pacing before me and Yrrvng's beery scent, and I fought to keep my tail still.

"My duty officer reports you late for second watch assignment as well." He had stopped pacing, directly behind me.

"Yes, sir. I am sorry, sir. No excuse, sir." I wished I could search his face. His voice was unreadable.

"I value punctuality on this starship, Dasker. I realize that a military regimen is new to you. But while you are a member of this crew, you will please see to it that you are where you should be, when you should be there. Do I make myself clear, Dasker." He had stepped forward, looming behind me, close enough for me to feel his body heat.

"Perfectly clear, sir." I stilled my tail again before it could enwrap his leg.

"Very good, shipman. As you were." I was sure he had noticed my scent at dinner, but he had not said anything about it, and his demeanor since had discouraged questions.

"Sir." He remained where he was, and I couldn't turn to face him yet. "Shall I go and freshen up, sir?"

"No." He stepped forward so that he rested against my back, his muzzle leaning in to breathe at my collar. "I prefer being able to smell where you have been," He shifted his stance so that his hips rested against the small of my back, and I could feel his maleness press just above my tail, which had wrapped around his leg before I could think about it. The Captain spoke, low against my ear, "and what you've been doing." His warm hands stroked my exposed torso, pulling me back against him.

"Shall I undress, sir?" His bristly muzzle tickled my neck as he drank my scent.

"No, Dasker. Just unfasten the panel of your pants." His hands stroked my fur, burrowed after my smaller nipples, grazed my waistband.

"Front, or back, sir?" My hands had reached back before I'd asked.

"Both, Dasker. It is one panel. Remove it." He breathed at the nape of my neck as I unfastened the buttons down either side in the back, and one of his hands reached for the base of my tail. My fingers fumbled with the buttons in front. The trouser legs and waistband remained, and my tail was still snug in its port, but my sex and bottom were left bare. "From now on, Dasker, whenever you are attending me alone here, this is your regulation dress. Is that understood? His hand in front raked the fur below my navel.

"Yes, sir." I remembered the hospital gown, and if my sex hadn't been hard already, the order would have done it, if his roving hands didn't. I shivered.

"And I will tell you when to use a fresher from now on, as well." I could feel him sniffing down my back. His hand teased under my tail.

"Yes, sir." He still hadn't touched my cock, but the caress of his hand all around my belly and inside my thighs was making me shiver and purr. My voice drops about an octave, when I purr. I'm told it sounds sultry.

"That aside, you may ...continue to spend your free time as you please, provided you can be punctual for your duties, Dasker." He was nuzzling up my flank now and I lifted my arm. His tongue grazed my nipple.

"You really don't mind, sir?" He tucked his head under my arm and the hand on my tail caught me under the knees as he lifted me in his arms. I looked up and saw that he was smiling, and curled against him.

"I really don't, Dasker. You have bonded to me, and that means I know where you will come back to. And you are my mate. But you are Halivarri, and young, and I don't want to inhibit your experiences. Ship life doesn't offer a lot of privacy, Dasker. But I don't want to limit your choices any more than they already are." As he spoke, he carried me into his stateroom and laid me on the bed, and smiled, and spoke again while he briskly stripped.

"As it is, I can tell you have had a busy day, and I plan to sniff every inch of you." He stalked toward the bed, leaned over me. "And I want you to tell me all about it, from the doctor's visit, to shipman Orngg, to E-deck, and the massage cubicle, and C-quarterdeck." His muzzle ranged over my neck and chest, under my arm, between my legs, his hot breath wafting my own scent toward me. "And then I intend to show you who you are bonded to, Dasker, whatever crewman you let tie his big vargyr cock up your pretty little ass, and what that means for you and me. Do I make myself clear, shipman?"

I was purring so hard I could barely speak. "Yes, sir".

The reception bot at sick bay told me that Doctor Courangara was off duty, but after a moment said he would see me in his quarters, and told me where to find them. A short while later, I was presenting my wrist unit at his door. It whispered open. A scent of fresh soil and growing things met me, and with it the doctor's voice. "Come in, Dasker." I entered, and the door slid shut behind me.

Doctor Courangara's quarters hardly looked like a part of the starcruiser. The light was dim, the air warm and moist. A stand of bamboo half screened a pool at one end of the room, fed by a stream rattling down over a rock cascade. Green plants were set all around this oasis.

The doctor sat in a comform impervic chair, reading an actual print-on-paper book. A glowglobe hovered behind his right shoulder, and a decanter and glasses sat on a small table beside him. The doctor finished the passage he was reading, marked his place with a velvet ribbon, and set the book aside as he looked up.

"I am sorry to disturb you, doctor," I said somewhat diffidently. Although he had been nothing but kind to me (and indeed, that is why I was there just then) it was hard sometimes to get used to how big and fierce he looked. Rakashah are a large race, and physically intimidating.

"Not at all, Dasker. Please join me." He gestured to the opposite chair. Off-duty, he wore neither his eyeglasses not a lab coat, but instead wore a dark silk robe embroidered with dragons, its cord tied neatly at his waist. He looked more like the ideas I'd had of the reclusive Rakashah I'd read about in school, legendary sybarites content to rule their Twelve Worlds and turn inward to the frontiers of the mind. "Would you care for a drink?"

I wouldn't have, especially, but courtsey made me say yes. He poured from the decanter, then passed it to me and indicated his waiting glass. I poured rather more for him till a subtle gesture of his massive paw bid me stop. He sipped and I did the same. I coughed and blinked back tears. The doctor smiled his wintery smile.

"Ouvereskan, triple-distilled, aged fifty years in a burnt zangarwood barrel." The doctor gave me a moment to collect myself. On second taste, the liquor was actually not too bad, though far stronger than anything we had on Halivarr. "Not to all tastes, but the Captain enjoys it, as do I. What can I do for you, Dasker?"

"Um, I don't know, really. It's... I'm just sort of confused." I fidgeted with my glass and bit my lip.

"Sip the liquor, Dasker. It is more efficient than simply inhaling the volatile fumes." The doctor gave another of his little smiles (but what did I know? Maybe they were big, open smiles for a Rakashah. On Halivarr they would have seemed small and wintery), and after a thoughtful moment, spoke. "Confusion is confusing. I will help you, if I can. Is this to do with your awakening, by any chance?" He leaned toward me slightly and the dragons on his robe shifted subtly. I thought I saw one breathe smoke.

Thus remided, I sipped my liquor, and replied. "Well, yes. You see, before the Captain..."

"There had been no one else. Yes, of course." He leaned back, sipped and explained. "Dasker, when you bonded to the Captain, that was like the sun turning north in the Spring - I believe your Halivarr has seasons, yes? Well, then - and what you experienced with him in the night following , that was like the first rain to come to a place where seeds have sat, in the dry darkness, quietly waiting. Do you see what I am saying, Dasker?"

I tried to follow. "Sort of. I remember spring very well. It's my favorite season, when it feels the whole world is waking up and pleased to find it such a beautiful day. Everything is so..."

"Full of life?" offered the doctor.

"That is just it." I said. "But after bonding with the Captain, I had thought he would be..." I trailed off. I didn't know just what I had thought, before I'd met Orngg in the passage of B-deck.

"The flower opens because the sun shines, Dasker," said the doctor. "That does not mean that bees will not wish to drink its nectar."

At least one of his words registered, and I sipped my liquor as I puzzled the rest out.

"It may console you to know that the heightened awareness which you have begun to experience is a transitory condition," said the doctor. "In time, the tide will crest, and recede, and your responses will be heightened certainly, but less overwhelming."

I heard myself sigh with relief. "How long do you think it will be, doctor?"

"You are sixteen now? A late-ish onset for an Halivarri male. Still, I don't think this should go on for much more than another fifteen or twenty years." He smiled reassuringly.

"Twenty years?" I wasn't sure I had heard him correctly.

"Fifteen to twenty, as an estimate, yes." The doctor seemed to take it philosophically, but he wasn't the one it was happening to. "The initial adjustment may take days or weeks, Dasker. You have a full prescription of the best help medicine can provide. I have, at the Captain's insistance, examined you very closely and you are in excellent health. Your responses, however unusual they may seem, are perfectly natural for your age and species." He paused thoughtfully. "Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"Well," I thought, "Sometimes it makes my pants too tight, but I kind of like that, really." He offered another smile. "I guess I might feel better if I just understood why it's happening."

"Ah," said the doctor. "I understand. Let me see if I can explain in layman's terms. Vargr have a very complicated sense of smell. It is an important means of subverbal commication for them - yes, I know you know that already, but it is important." He shifted again, sitting forward as he explained, and I watched the dragons curl and crawl. "Your species happens to produce pheremones across the entire range of the vargyr olfactorum, and well into the range of many other species, including my own."

I looked at the size of his paw resting of the arm of his chair, bit my lip, and nodded.

"Also, your physical form," the doctor continued, "superfically resembles the prey of those animals many other Made Races are descended from. This secondary consideration has been complicated first by sentience - I am not a predator, you are not prey - but in the second place your species has further been bred to exhibit a variety of traits that various other species find desireable in a mate, or instinctive to extend affection toward."

He smiled a bit, leaned forward, and elaborated: "Large, dark eyes, a small figure, soft fur, pleasing natural body aroma, prominent primary sex characteristics, a subconsciously communicative tail that happens to end right above a particularly dense occurance of scent glands - and a cute little bottom that begs for a pat." I blushed and stilled my tail where it squirrmed between my legs. "It would be difficult for the crewmen not to notice you."

"But when they do notice, and I notice them noticing, I..."

"Your breathing becomes more rapid and more shallow. You perspire - releasing pheremones. Your pupils dilate slightly, making you look receptive and vulnerable. Your fur fluffs a bit, your genitals engorge. Your tail is restless." I looked down, and saw the tip of my tail flicking from one knee to the other, and stilled it with a hand.

"So all the things they respond to only are more appealing on a second look?" I took another sip of liquor, and found it was beginning to make me feel nice and warm inside.

"Yes, you follow me exactly. But that only explains their response, not yours," said Doctor Courangara. "Your instincts, your reflexive responses, Dasker, are hedonotropic, pleasure-seeking. The chemical processes involved are fascinating but ultimately irrelevant to your inquiry. What we have in effect is a positive-positive feedback loop processing sensory input and reflex-motor output in patterns tending toward higher sensitivity in erogonomous function. Have I lost you?"

I had liked the bit about big eyes, soft fur better. "Not quite, doctor. I think I understood most of that." I went to take a sip of my drink but the glass was empty.

"Sorry, I'll try again." The doctor poured.

"Er..." I blinked.

"A joke, Dasker." The doctor smiled.

"I didn't know that you did that," I said, and took a sip.

"I do sometimes, Dasker." Alright - so the thin smile was not his only one. Doctor Courangara had very big teeth. But he also had a nice smile. Well, mostly nice. "I have a lazy habit of falling in to jargon, Dasker, that I hope you can excuse. I am not surprised that you are feeling a little unsure of yourself. These feelings are natural to you, but new as well. Still, if understanding what is causing it will help, then I will do my best to educate you. But I am a scientist and a physician, not a teacher, and my Rakashah perspective might preclude a certain sensitivity on my part."

"Doctor Courangara, truly, you've done more than I could ask already. I didn't mean to take up your reading time and all..." I stood up.

"Not at all, Dasker, please. Finish your drink, at least." The doctor raised his head slightly and regarded me with warm, amber eyes. "You aren't disturbing me, Dasker. It is just that some things are very difficult to explain in words. Let me try another way." He rose.

As he unfolded from his chair, dark silk rustled and the manycolored dragons danced. His feet were silent as he stood, his broad shoulders spread back and a fine thatch of fur showed on a broad expanse of chest left uncovered by the vee of his robe, gathered by a tassled sash at his waist to drape a conspicous prominence just below. One massive paw gently scooped my drink from the table, and he handed it to me. I took it. He gestured with his paw, 'well?' I drank.

"Look about you, Dasker. I have few posessions. What can you divine of my nature - my species - from what you see here?" He paced silently behind me, one paw resting its weight on my shoulder, turning me as he spoke.

"You prefer few distractions." I was still a bit selfconscious of taking so much of his time.

"Close. I permit myself few distractions." He stood behind me, looking where I looked. "Go on."

"You are sensitive to quality. Aged liquor, silk robe, bound books, living things and water." I wondered where he was going with this.

"Very good. I permit myself few distractions but, at the same time I am a bit of a connoisseur." His low rumble of a voice held a bit of a chuckle. His paw curled a bit on my shoulder.

"You value solitude, your quarters aren't adjacent to a social area. You live alone." A few fur rugs and many cushions piled about them beyond the bamboo screen was the only thing in the room that suggested a bed. The adjacent office was neat and utilitarian.

"Good boy, Dasker." the paw flexed again, kneading my shoulder pleasantly. "Even among Rakashah, I would den alone. We are somewhat territorial and prefer a certain distance." He stepped closer. His feet made no sound, but I could feel him closing the distance. "What else?"

"Your very organized and neat. You dislike disorder." I was fishing, now.

"Ah, you were doing so well." He stepped up beside me, leading me over to the oasis around the pool. "Is the bamboo ordered?"

"It has its own order, I suppose." Folded between that weighty paw and his silk robe, I followed.

"Very true, and well observed. But the cushions aren't stacked, or sorted by color or size, are they? The plantings and cascade are meant to look ...natural."

"So, in some matters you like to organize yourself, but in others you prefer the order of nature?" I wondered if this was all going to be some oblique lesson in self-control.

"Just so." He walked past me, his hand slipping from my shoulder just in time to pat my bottom, and gracefully lounged amongst the cushions and furs. "Won't you make yourself comfortable, Dasker?" He looked comfortable in a way only cats can be, and I felt a strong urge to curl up in his lap.

His lap, broad haunches asplay under rustling silk where dragons writhed and curled with the rise and fall of his breathing, the swell of his loins shifting under the fabric as he stirred. I looked up from his lap, up his broad chest to meet his golden eyes. He smiled, held an arm out, open.

I went over and curled up in his lap, leaning against his left side, his paw curled around me. I tried to sort of perch on his left thigh, but the silk was slippery and my bottom slid down until it rested warmly against the prominence between his thighs, he breathed against my neck, and I purred.

Copyright 2007 Toni Daring - free use with these credits in any free internet story archive. Not available for sale.

Want to read more? The author welcomes your suggestions as to what experiences our hero will face next. Support a free reader-written Internet! email ToniDaring@yahoo.com