War... War has Changed. (M/F/F NSFW)

Dear Ma,

They’ve cycled me to a support company. They say it’s safer here, that I can just sit pretty and wait out the rest of my tour. They say that, but I can still hear the guns hammering the front, and when those get quiet, I can hear the front too.

The food here is awful, I mean just downright toxic. I get that the fluffers and dinos and scaley-bois don’t exactly all have the same tastes when it comes to grub, but in their attempt to satisfy all of us they’ve managed to come up with a menu that’s on the wrong side of edible-ness. I know that’s not a word, Ma, but Da isn’t around to correct me. It doesn’t help that the cook in this camp is an absolute pri-

“Uhh . . . John? Are you gonna serve dinner or did something go wrong?” A Dorarizin snout poked through the flap doors leading into John’s mess tent, a mixture of concern and confusion running through Zerenz-of-Dregzktz’s mind. 

“You know the rules fuzzbutt, keep your shedding, hairnet-less body out of my kitchen.” 

John shot a shrewd glare at the intruder to his cooking space, and the offending Dorarizin’s ears folded back in response to his chastisement. “It’ll be soon though, right? Five minutes? Ten minutes?” 

He let out a long, exasperated sigh of mock irritation. “Dinner gets finished when it gets finished. Besides, I’m writing a sorrowful and poignant letter to my hypothetical mother for the purposes of getting into character.” He added, with a hint of smugness. “Now go on, git!” 

“Sheesh . . . just wanted to know when dinner would be . . . no need to get snippy about it.” Zerenz-of-Dregzktz pouted quietly as she slunk back out of the tent.
 

John, of course, didn’t notice any of that, because he’d already stopped paying attention - or if he did notice, at the very least didn’t care. Complaining about unreasonable superiors was a very central part of military life, so really, he was just adding to the realism of it all. Still, he spared a glance over at the trays full of instant eggs he’d started 10 minutes ago. They’d be ready to eat in about 5 minutes or so, by his estimation. They were done re-hydrating and just needed to come up to temperature. “Now . . . where was I . . .” He resumed writing a ‘letter’ to his mother on one of the disposable napkins that was part of the mess kit.

-ck. I mean, between his attitude and the food, I think we might actually have some casualties by the end of these war-games if he has his way. Anyway, the puppers are barking about dinner, so I’ve gotta go show them the real horrors of war: My homestyle cooking.

Your son, with appropriate levels of respect and love,

John

He paused for a moment, scanning the small cook-tent he was set up in. Portable stove, a little water purifier, and a sink with filtration system to wash dishes while re-using the same water for maximum efficiency were all his to command. Well, command was a strong word. More like . . . his to suffer.

The convoluted and frankly statistically improbable string of mis-communications and accidents that led to him being here was worthy of its own dedicated tale, but the facts were straightforward enough: 

1. Get hired by new company.

2. New company wants to do team building.

3. Someone, somewhere, read that the strongest bonds of brotherhood are forged in the fires of battle.

4. The company is having full scale, live fire training exercises as a means to “build team spirit.”

Apparently in the noblebright future of third millennium, there is only war re-enactment.

So . . . so stupid.

In summary, there he was, out in the middle of nowhere on an alien planet playing dress up soldier with creatures that consider live fire military exercises a bit of team-building sport. He’d spent exactly one day in a “front line” unit, and while the “war” he was fighting in was fake, the guns were very, very real. The bullets were “only [wiffle-balls],” but it was still more than enough to break skin. Human skin, that is. Some of the bigger Dorarizin had to be told they’d been hit and to play dead, but John needed no such reminders - the guns they were using probably weighed as much as he did. At the start he’d thought it was going to be the sort of thing where he could mill around at the food truck and maybe suck up to his manager a little bit while whoever actually wanted to do this would go off and get into the thick of things. 

His nose wrinkled as he realized this was basically a 400 square kilometer LARP with enough real ordinance to conquer Neo-Massachusetts. “Bad thought . . . very bad thought,” he muttered quietly, trying to force the cringe away.

He tucked the napkin into his pocket while he struggled to recover from his previous realization, slipping the pen into the front of his uniform apron. It was camouflage colored – both the pen and the apron, but the latter of which had the historically inaccurate phrase “Kiss the Cook” written on the front. He moved to the massive trays of now re-hydrated food he was about to serve, and grabbed the first one, grumbling under his breath. All the fake war letters in the world couldn’t distract him from his ultimate gripe; He wasn’t even being paid to be here . . . 

. . . Actually, 90% of his attitude could actually be explained with the phrase “unpaid team-building exercise.”

He looked down at his apron, at the words he’d crudely scrawled down to express his pent up frustration with the situation, and felt dissatisfaction. It was defiant, yes, but it could be more.

Setting the tray back down, he took out his pen again, and began to write on his apron once more . . . 

====================

Zerenz whined softly, mess kit set out on the picnic table in front of her. The weather had been good for the fighting today, and she’d tagged no less than six hostiles during the last combat patrol. Accounting was getting less organized after the Sales Department managed a breakthrough attack about 72 hours ago, but that wasn’t the source of her distress.

“John yelled at me when I went to check on the food . . .” She lamented quietly to her squadmate, Rzedren-of-Grxztk, under the background white noise of general conversation.

Rzedren snorted, brusquely in response. “I don’t understand why you care.”

The two of them were sitting far back from the other patrons in the oversized mess-hall tent, the distance from everyone else effectively working to create a privacy pocket. The mess area had been packed full on the first day, but after almost a week of constant “casualties” (leaving to hang out at the three star resort that was 80 kilometers down the road, taking 9-hour-long teambuilding seminar classes every day) it was getting a bit sparse.

Zerenz’s expression shifted from one of anxiety to frustration. “I don’t know, I just do. He’s just so . . . different. Very . . . assertive. It’s strange, in an almost charming way?” She didn’t sound certain of that last part, though.

Rzedren gave her an incredulous look, and huffed. “Like an angry, boisterous Pack-Mother in the body of a tiny, fragile human male. Have you listened to him speak? I have never encountered another living soul that is even half as crude and offensive as he is.”

All the demoralized Dorarizin could do was wring her hands anxiously. “Well, I admit he isn’t exactly a refined patron of the arts, but he cooks decently enough. He’s tidy when he wants to be. He is cute, in that small, dainty way . . . I kinda like him.” Her voice was much lower, and she glanced around nervously, as if being heard might get her in trouble.

Confusion, disbelief, and then curiosity flickered across the face of her squad mate in rapid succession. “I don’t- wait, you mean like, sexually?” 

Cringing visibly, Zerenz hissed “Keep your voice down! I don’t think you want to be overheard talking about stuff like that . . .”

Hand already stroking the underside of her muzzle, deep in thought, Rzedren nodded as she turned over this revelation in her mind. “You know . . . I’d never considered that. I mean, humans. They’re probably . . . acceptable.”

“Ladies~!”

The voice made Zerenz jump in place, while Rzedren froze like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Special dinner tonight. Eggs. Just like lunch. And breakfast. And dinner last night. But this time they’ve been made with extra love!” John scooped a heaping helping of eggs onto Zerenz’s mess tray with a certain bombastic flair. “And don’t worry, I’ve been explicitly informed of what constitutes ‘love’ and what constitutes ‘unsafe food handling practices.’” His grin was practically manic.

“Yeah . . . thanks.” She glanced between him and Rzedren, uncertain of how much he’d overheard. 

He leaned in close, and she found her heartbeat quickening slightly.

“If there’s not enough love in yours, you can swing by my tent after dessert for an extra serving.”

His whisper was louder than his normal speaking voice, and the wink he gave her was so exaggerated that he nearly dropped the serving tray he was carrying under one arm.

Zerenz was certain he’d overheard everything.

Rzedren blinked several times, gaze fixed on his chest as her brow furrowed intensely. “John, does your apron say ‘Yiff the Cook’ on the front?”

He spun on his heel to face her, positively beaming. “Yes, yes it does. Thank you for noticing! There are no atheists in a foxhole, and I’m looking to find god in a wolf-hole. I need a girl with thick fur and thicker thighs that I can make a pilgrimage across. I have mommy issues and I’m looking for someone to help me fill that void. Speaking of filling voids, I have four-and-a-half inches of disappointment on the menu for any lucky lady that wants dessert.” He slid around the table, heaping eggs onto Rzedren’s plate as he rubbed shoulders with her. “Or, if there are no ladies available, I’ll even take you, fluff n’stuff.” His grin was brilliant, his attitude was utterly insufferable, and his eyebrows looked like they were oscillating up and down in the 2 Hz range.

They were both starting at him in raw disbelief, and it was clear that he couldn’t care less.

“Y’all know where to find me.” He said, mic-dropping the serving ladle into the tray of eggs.

====================

John hummed softly to himself as he scrubbed clean the last of the dinner trays, fondly recalling the expressions of shock on the two Dorarizin’s faces.

Now that had been an enjoyable way to express his displeasure with the current circumstances. The violation of social norms and making others uncomfortable was a subtle form of protest, with the added benefit of being hilarious.

Also, making 8 foot tall alien killing-machines straight out of the dreams of a furry with an Amazoness fetish uncomfortable using overt sexuality was double hilarious.

That’s right. Just in it for the verbal shitposting.

. . .Not like he actually wanted a Dorarizin to smother him in between a pair of her beach-ball sized tits while crooning sweet nothings into his ear.

That would be degenerate.

His humming was interrupted by the sound of the kitchen tent-flap fluttering softly. He turned, eyebrows already raised in surprise as he took in the sight of Rzedren, standing with her head ducked uncomfortably low in the small space.

They stared at each other for a few moments.

“So-”

“Hey-”

They both began trying to speak at once, and they both stopped at the same time. An awkward pause ensued, as each waited for the other to continue.

John spoke first. “What are you doing in my kitchen this late? Isn’t it after lights out?” His heart rate was picking up, and while he kept telling himself over and over that she couldn’t be here for the reason he thought, his mind refused to generate any other explanation.

She cleared her throat into a large, clawed hand. “Just, you know.” She swallowed hard. “So was that dessert thing only for Zerenz, or . . .” She grinned, trying to look confident, but her eyes wouldn’t lock with his.

“Oh. Oh!” John quickly dropped the tray he was scrubbing into the bucket of suds. “I mean, I was kinda joking when I said that-”

Rzedren’s ears folded back quickly “H-hah! Yeah, m-me too.” She stammered quickly, clearly flustered. “I was just, you know, calling you out on it . . . you . . . uhh . . .” Her voice trailed off, frustrated that no razor-sharp comment came to mind.

A grimace crossed John’s face. “Okay, first of all, that was the opposite of smooth, and second of all . . . If you wanna, you know, fool around some . . . I’m down. Again, I was only kinda joking.” He could hear his heart beating faster, and felt warmth spread across his face. Turns out his local space-wolf-bear was really cute when she was nervous.

She froze in place, ears shooting straight up, and swiveling around as every one of her senses locked on to him. “Really?” There was a note of hope in her voice.

John nodded. “Yeah, like . . . Of course most of that was me just trying to rile y’all up and possibly get a ticket out of here, but if you’re interested in just a casual way to spend an evening, I’m down.” He couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. Just a casual hookup with an alien that could treat a battle tank like a chew toy.

Rzedren swallowed hard, and though John couldn’t see it, she was flushing too. “That’s . . . you’re just okay with shacking up for the night?” She raised up sharply in surprise, and knocked her head against one of the roof struts with a sharp clang. The human kitchen tent annex was less of a tent and more of a portable structure and even if it had synth-canvas walls, it was still rigged up for power and plumbing - so it had a great deal of structural mass to it. Hissing through clenched teeth, she ducked down again, hands running to the knot forming on her skull.

John stepped forward, crossing the small space in a few strides, lightly placing his hands on top of hers as he examined the injury with concern on his face.

C-cute.

It was the only thought in her head as he muttered something to her about being more careful.

“Yeah, I mean . . . I know it’s probably weird for you though. Aren’t males supposed to play hard to get or something?” John spoke softly as he quickly checked over the rapidly forming knot on her head.

Rzedren nodded, ducking her head lower and pulling her paws away so that John could keep running his fingers through the fur of her scalp. The new sensation felt wonderful, she softly realized. The soft, claw-less appendages he bore were much better suited to gentle and ginger prodding than hers were. Rzedren couldn’t help but inhale some of his scent as he stood so close to her, lightly parting her fur to look for the spot where she banged her head. There were acrid notes of sweat and exertion; the scent a male working hard over a hot stove, she realized with a certain excitement. Beneath that there was something light, and floral, and the feral part of her brain picked it up as if he’d been stalking through tall flowers after something. Very faintly though, almost hidden by the rest, was the subtle musk of John himself. It reminded her of the first days of the dark season, a time of denning and long rests. Her eyelids fluttered as all of this flashed through her in an instant. 

Rzedren wasn’t much concerned about the bump; frankly her reaction to it was born out of surprise rather than pain, but she played along a little while longer. Not every-day that you get fretted over by a cute little alien boy.

“Men are supposed to . . . traditionally. Still, it’d be nice to have a change of pace.” She looked up at him from her hunched position. “So . . . my place?” 

John planted his hands on his hips. “I think my bed might be able to fit me and one of your legs.” He grinned for a second, then frowned with displeasure. “There’s a great joke about a dog and humping legs here, but I can’t put the pieces together in a way that sounds right.”

Rzedren couldn’t help but snort. It was definitely still John. Ovaries in public, balls in private, and always mouthy as hell. She turned to duck out of the tent again, but she hesitated. She almost didn’t believe he’d follow her.

The tent flap raised up in front of Rzedren as he stepped around her to clear her path. “Well, lead the way. Unless you want to get me ticketed for really unsafe food storage practice.”

====================

Propositioning him in the kitchen tent had been awkward, and Rzedren was afraid the walk back was going to be awkward too, but John was, much to her surprise, an absolute sister about it. He didn’t ask any weird questions about why, or who she’d been with, or why the hell she was even considering screwing a human, he just wanted to know a little bit more about her. Well, and what she wanted to do when they got to her tent.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t think I’d get this far,” Rzedren said, scratching the back of her head. “What do you wanna do?”

He just shrugged, and gave her a classic shit-eating grin of his. “Iunno. Whadda you wanna do?”

She half growled, half groaned under her breath. “Not the time. I mean-”

John leaned against her, wrapping an arm around as much of her waist as he could and squeezed her very lightly. “Well, you lose your uniform, I lose my uniform, and then we start trying to figure out what we like having done to each other.”

His hands wandered up her sides, and he struggled to reach around her as he did so. “I’m a fan of what you have going on up here.” She exhaled a little sharper as his fingertips dig into the sides of her chest-flesh, over her uniform. “But I’m also a fan of what you having going on here-” She almost stumbled as he gave her rear a firm grope. “-but I’m also happy just giving you . . . err . . .” He was struggling to reach up to scratch her between the ears, but couldn’t quite reach that high. “Could you duck a little please?” 

Rzedren obliged, bowing her head low enough that he could lightly scratch her scalp.

“I’m also happy just giving you a little scratch between the ears if that’s what does it for you.”

Her tail wagged gently, and not of her own volition.

“I know I’m not really going to be able to compare in terms of the, well . . . size and strength and pretty much any department. So, if I have any hope of being remembered fondly come sunrise, we’re going to have to communicate well.”

Rzedren nodded, almost dumbly. A male, open about their intentions, eager meet your desires, with no trepidation and beating around the bush about what either of you want tonight. 

Is this real? 

Is this happening right now? 

…Nope, not gonna question it, that’s how you wake up from dreams. 

Rzedren was looking for words to describe the feeling in her gut (and slightly lower than her gut), but was coming up with nothing. Like, massless lust? That was the best expression she could come up with. There was desire, a sexual hunger, but it wasn’t an unrestrained appetite to strip off his clothes and ravage him, or even vice versa. It was the kind of excitement she felt when booting up a new VR game, or when she was headed to see a holo-productions. It wasn’t sex sex, it was like, an activity that was going to be a fun, relaxing, enjoyable activity that just happened to involve having an orgasm. 

Sex without the worry of pregnancy, or an STI, or trying to impress or secure a mate for the future. Casual sex. Just, happening casually because both people wanted it.

Her feet carried her on in silence, and John hung gently to her waist, autopilot taking her back to her tent on the edge of camp - far enough away she didn’t have to listen to other Dorarizin snore, but close enough to be technically inside the safe-zone part of the compound.

“You’ve been quiet. Cold feet?” John spoke softly. The words might have been teasing, but the tone was of concern.

Rzedren shook her head. “No, not at all, just kind of still trying to process that this is happening, you know?” 

John nodded. “Same, tee-bee-ayych.”

With absolutely no idea what that meant, she lifted the flap to the much larger tent, and lead John inside.

It was simple, on the spartan side, but furnished well enough considering that it was just a little war-game. Rzedren idly wondered briefly if this was fraternization or a violation of company policy, but as John casually stripped out of his shirt and laid it across her footlocker she realized she didn’t care. His body was toned, and athletic. Not a surprise there; the selection process for humans traveling from their cradle world had always emphasized a certain degree of physical fitness, but it was just how smooth and taut his entire body was that made her stop and marvel. Rzedren had seen pictures of course, anatomical diagrams in her education, but seeing the real live thing strip and bend and flex in front of her was a different story. There was no excess skin, nothing that would roll or fold if she bit down on it. It was a lovely color too; not sky-blue and navy, like her own flesh beneath her thick coat, but somewhere between a pale ivory and sienna color. The bit of fur that crowned the top of his head was like an accent, carefully trimmed and sculpted, and as he lazily kicked off his trousers she realized that wasn’t the only part of him that was trimmed and sculpted.

John cocked an eyebrow at her, and sat on her cot in the corner of the tent. “I showed you mine, no need to be bashful. Besides, you have fur. You’re clothed even when you’re naked.”

“No, when I’m naked, I’m naked-” She started slowly, shaking her head, brow furrowing as she looked at the two pointed, darkened spots on John’s chest. Superfluous male nipples. Strange, but, she wondered if they were sensitive like hers were. “-just when you humans get naked, you get extra naked.” She began unbuttoning the camouflage uniform top she’d been issued for the exercises. Watching his pupils dilate, Rzedren took in the grin slowly spreading across his face. She could hear his heart beating faster, smelling the change in his body chemistry. 

Adrenaline. 

He was definitely into this.

“Did you just ‘you people’ me?” He snickered quietly, and stood up, stepping over to her and placing his hands on her belt. “Do you mind if I help?” 

She nodded in the affirmative as she watched him approach. She could see the effect she was having on him as her shirt came completely undone. He had been modest about himself at dinner.

“Was that a yes to the first question, or the second?” He tugged her pants down, and an electric tremor ran through her as his breath tickled through the fur around her sex.

“Second . . . I didn’t mean to say all humans-” She stopped as he rose, and turned away from her, leaving her pants around her ankles. Rzedren huffed quietly. “You’re distracting me, and then getting indignant when you successfully distract me.” She tossed her shirt away, leaving her ample chest to breathe in the cool night air of her tent. Kicking her trousers aside, she was finally as disrobed as he was, or at least as close as she could get without a razor.

“Sorry.” John intoned, a little ashamedly. “Just, you know. Nervous. I get snarky when I’m nervous. How would you like to start?”

It surprised Rzedren, to be sure, that he would apologize, and without thinking she told him as such. “John, that’s the first time I think I’ve ever heard you apologize to anyone, for anything. And you hit one of the project managers with a truck on the first day!” 

They both grinned at that. “Yeah, well, roads are for trucks, and sidewalks are also for trucks if they have a really wide turning radius. Besides, small craft are supposed to yield to larger craft, right?” He patted the cot next to him, indicating for her to sit. “I shouldn’t be trying to make you feel awkward or ashamed right now, even as a joke. That’s, like, just really shitty, you know?”

Rzedren took a seat next to him, folding her paws in her lap. “You’re a lot nicer when you’re about to have sex with someone, you know that?” She smirked playfully, clicking her inner row of teeth in amusement.

John just rolled his eyes, and with a light touch climbed into her lap, facing her. “So . . . how do Dorarizin kiss?”

Her heart did a double beat, as she looked into his eyes. They were a lovely shade of chocolate, that got brighter, almost to the color of amber, at the edge of his iris. “We uhh . . . don’t, at least, probably not like you’re used to. It’s, difficult,” she said, distracted.

He pressed his head up under her chin, rubbing his face against her throat. “What about nuzzling?” His voice was muffled by her fur, but she wasn’t really paying attention to that. With unnerving precision he’d picked out one of the most intimate things he could have done right then and there. His hands found her shoulders, and he pulled himself snugly against her. A gasping shiver went through him as his tool was tantalized by the soft, dark fur of her underbelly, and they both let out quiet sounds of comfort and pleasure.

Johns’ hips began to roll subtly, and with a shaky voice, Rzedren managed to mumble “You found the right spots quick. What feels good for you?” His tool, though probably good sized on a human, was still lithe and petite to her. While initially she didn’t have much in the way of excitement regarding it, the way he lewdly mis-used it, pressing it against her abs was definitely doing it for her mentally. Like the boast of a warrior before battle, declaring “This is how deep I shall plumb your depths.”

John, for his part, was also tremendously enjoying himself. The feel of her iron-hard muscles padded by a layer of soft fur that tickled his most intimate spots was just…incredible. The bulge and ripple of her thighs beneath him as she shifted slightly to maintain her balance was a telltale sign of the raw strength caged in her tremendous frame. Each of her breasts, larger than his head by far, pressed into him, and he nearly had to worm his way between them to nuzzle the underside of her chin. Teats, rapidly hardening, proved to be robust enough to press through the heavy layer of fur, each one at least the thickness of his thumb. The black, rubbery, rapidly swelling texture was novel to him, and he couldn’t help but lift a hand from her shoulder to give one a gentle squeeze. He paused, hand in the air. “May I?” His words were quiet, but eager.

She glanced down, uncertain as to what he was speaking of, but growled her assent as she took his hand in her paw, and pressed it firmly into her abundant chest. Her breath shuddered happily as he kneaded and teased at the nub. Far more gentle, far more measured force than ever applied to it before, she couldn’t suppress a throaty panting she helped him work and explore her body. “You’re . . . pretty good at this fore-play thing.” She spoke between the quick breaths of her light panting, tongue hanging out of her mouth slightly.

“I aim to please,” John replied, still nuzzling anything he could get his face on, eventually burying his head in between her massive globes. It was so much better than he’d hoped. The fur tickled his face and nose and he felt practically engulfed by her breasts. Surely, one of his ancient cave-dwelling ancestors was almost certainly looking down on him, screeching in enthusiastic approval as John began to work over what would have been deified as some kind of animal fertility-god of prehistoric mankind. He was iron hard, and while he hoped that he wasn’t making a mess of Rzedren’s fur before they even got started, between the sensual tickling of her fur across the underside of his mushroom head and the bliss that was her tits, he was certain he was already leaking.

Seizing the initiative, he delicately ran his tongue across the sensitive protrusion he wasn’t currently groping, drawing a chattering sound from his alien partner as her teeth clenched in surprise. He pulled away, looking up at her. “No?” He wasn’t sure if he’d gone too far too fast.

Rzedren shook her head sharply in response, murmuring “Do that again . . . but harder.” 

It was a command he was happy to oblige, and as he did so she let out a low, warbling sound like a wolf’s howl, mixed with a high pitched whine of sensual bliss. “By the ancients . . . a Dorarizin tongue does not feel that good.” Her paws wandered down his back, looking for something to do, something to squeeze, some way to repay his tender attentions. “They’re rougher in the back, flat, and meant for peeling meat off bones. Given enough time, and boredom, a pup can strip the paint off a nursery room door with just repeated licks. You on the other hand . . . smooth, wet, and powerful . . . all the right ways.” She mumbled sweetly into his ear, eyes half open. Her loins were drooling with a molten heat, and while she wasn’t sure if he could detect just how ready she was, to her nose, the room reeked of her lust.

“Glad to hear. So you don’t mind if I do this?” John took the rubbery appendage in his mouth, wrapping his lips around it firmly and suckling at it as he flicked his tongue across its thick girth inside his mouth. The texture of it was rough, robust, and meant to be durable - like so much else of her. His efforts were rewarded with a paw pressing firmly into the back of his head, encouraging him to press onward without restraint. He could feel her chest heaving, and hear her panting loudly above him; there was a heat radiating from her body, and his tool twitched in time with his heartbeat as he groaned in near silent joy for this. The same warbling sound, a howl of sorts, rumbled and whined up out of her throat as she tipped her head back. There was a light sting of discomfort as she gripped him tighter, her claws leaving angry red streaks of irritation on his back as the blunted implements dragged lightly across him. Not enough to break skin, but enough that he felt it.

“Rzedren? Are you okay? Did John actually put something in your food because I can’t find him anywhere in camp, and-” The tent flap flew open as Zerenz-of-Dregzktz stepped inside, and froze. Her nose wrinkled as the wave of scents hit her, and her brain short circuited as she took in the sight of the small human wrapped around as much of the much larger Dorarizin as he could get his hands on. 

“-and, and, and . . .” Zerenz stammered, repeatedly, backing up into the wall of the tent, bumping into it with enough force to shake the entire tent. “And I should go.” She whirled around, moving for the flap of the tent.

“Wait!” Rzedren barked, freezing her in place before she could make good on her retreat. Flushed and panting, she quickly disentangled herself from John, hastily picking him up and putting him aside on her over-sized cot, much to his aggressively-pouting displeasure. Ignoring his protests for the time being, she couldn’t help but notice the fistful of flowers in her hand, and recalled the human courtship tradition of presenting flowers to one you fancied. “We’re just . . . having a bit of fun, isn’t that right John?” 

Struggling to sit up after being forcefully manhandled, John nodded. “That was the idea, yes, at least to start… are those flowers?” 

Ignoring his question, Rzedren took a single step towards Zerenz, who looked on the verge of saying something. “I didn’t know you were going to . . . you know, go for him tonight. I wanted to test the waters for you, see if he’d even go for someone outside his species.” 

Whatever comment she had died in her throat, and an expression of mixed appreciation and bittersweet mirth appeared on her face. “Humans are monogamous, Rzedren.” She said, softly.

John snorted loudly, breaking whatever moment was about to happen. “Yeah maybe in books and in holo-projections, and only if they don’t get caught. I know Dorarizin are into the sharing males pack thing, and full disclosure, I am very enthusiastic about adopting that tradition. I like the flowers too, nice touch.” He rolled out of the cot and strode confidently towards Zerenz.

Her face flushed with a mixture of surprise at his casual indecency and his brash attitude, but a smile was beginning to emerge as well.

“So as long as Rzedren’s alright with it, it’s her tent after all . . . I think we can work this out?” John glanced at the nude, panting Dorarizin, who nodded aggressively in response. “What’s a little casual sex between friends, right?” Sporting a grin, a post-ironic sense of humor, and literally nothing else, John stepped forward and lightly embraced the late arrival about the waist. “So, you’re a little overdressed, but once you take care of that . . . mind taking a seat on the cot?” His fingers brushed against hers as he meekly took the flowers from her. “Were these for me?” 

She nodded weakly in response. “I just, you know . . . it’s in all of the holo-vids with humans.”

He grinned, shaking his head. “It’s the thought that counts, and I appreciate the thought.”

Rzedren watched the exchange with a mixture of impatience and eagerness. After all . . . things were just getting to the good part when Zerenz walked in. Idly she admired the way the cords of muscle in his back and rump shifted as he moved, taking the flowers and placing them outside before re-sealing the tent flap… all in the nude.

“So, Zerenz, what about humans interested you the most?” John was speaking softly, the way you would to a small child, or a frightened animal that might bite you if agitated. 

So in other words, a small child.

Zerenz managed to collect herself enough, overcoming the shock of the situation to muster most of a response. “It’s . . . a lot of things. I would really like to feel what your hands are like.” She began undoing the buttons of her uniform, just as her squadmate had done minutes before.

Rzedren, now lounging on her cot, flashed her a grin. “Forget hands, try their tongues. Absolutely fantastic.” She added a little thumbs up, bringing a warm chuckle to both Zerenz and John’s lips while helping ease the tension.

“Well, what would you have then. Hands, or tongue?” There was a mischievous way about him, and she felt her breath hitch as he began unfastening her belt. She swallowed hard, uncertain about just what she was getting herself into. “Tongue.” She resolved, looking over at Rzedren as she said it. 

There was a quiet murmur of approval from John as she said it, and though she couldn’t make out exactly what he said, it might have been the word “finally.”

Rzedren rose from the bed, and stalking around behind her squadmate, gingerly took her by the wrists, and pulled her close. 

Zerenz let out a startled, surprised yip, but didn’t do much to resist other than squirm slightly as John’s warm breath washed across her loins. She felt Rzedrens’ head rest heavily on her shoulder, embracing her softly as clawless fingers worked through the fur of her thighs. Her uniform, half unbuttoned, pants around her knees, was almost restraining her as the two clearly riled occupants of the tent began to shower her in affectionate attention. Zerenz shivered as her squadmate nuzzled at her neck, and let out a faint whine of suppressed pleasure as something probed at her sex. Hot, wet, muscular, but short, her knees trembled as the human buried his tongue in her folds. It was abrupt, a sudden assault that she wasn’t at all prepared for, but she welcomed it with wanton need. Zerenz rolled her hips forward, pressing her lips into his as he let out a muffled yelp of surprised. Steadying himself against her powerful legs, he took her indistinct moaning as encouraging consent to his efforts, and pressed on with renewed effort.

Rzedren enjoyed the feeling of her squirming partner struggling ineffectually against her. It wasn’t a struggle-struggle, as much as it was a writhing as she fought her own body for control. Human tongues, after all, were absolutely fantastic. With slight amusement, she could only wonder just how pent up the poor girl was before tonight, before awkwardly remembering that she herself had been just as happy to have some attention not 15 minutes ago. Releasing Zerenz’s wrists, her hands wandered down to the timid Dorarizin’s chest, weighing the ample globes in each hand. The crooning moan that followed indicated she was enjoying the attention, too.

John pulled away, a clear strand of something connecting his lips to her nethers for just a moment, glittering in the dim light of the tent lantern. “Girls, I know the place that foreplay has in any sexual encounter, but I’m ready to move on to the main course, if that’s alright with both of you.” He was breathless, grinning, and Rzedren had to admit, that she agreed. “Bed?”
 

“Bed.”
“Bed.”

 

They both agreed to his suggestion in unison, even if the bed in question was a cot.

Zerenz stopped to hastily cast off the remainder of her clothing, while Rzedren grinned wolfishly at John.

“Alright, might be a little tricky to coordinate but . . . you stand, you kneel, I sit . . . and this might work out?” The three exchanged glances, as they tried to put together the plan of action he was suggesting.

“Kneel . . . sit . . . oh!” Zerenz’s face lit up as the painfully aroused human took a seat on the edge of the cot. He spread his legs slightly, giving free and easy access to his prominently protruding member, a bead of excitement glistening clearly on his tip. Taking the hint, Zerenz quickly dropped to her knees in front of him, now free of clothes, as one of her hands disappeared between her legs. Just as quickly as her hand disappeared, so too did John’s malehood into her maw. A broad, flat, powerful tongue wrapped around the underside of his shaft, as a set of canine lips came to rest firmly against the base of his member. Without prompting, the eager Dorarizin began pumping up and down the length of it, making his toes curl in satisfaction as his fingers dug into the fur between her ears. His taste was clean, and light. It was delicate, just like she expected of a human, and she reveled in it as she tried to extract a climax from the tool occupying her mouth.

A satisfied groan slipped from John as Rzedren stepped forward. Dipping two fingers between her legs, she lifted and spread her nethers for John as she bared herself inches from his face. Puffy, dark, canine outer lips gave way to a bright, blue, glistening depths, and the heat of her desire washed across his face in waves. Not willing to let such a sight go to waste, he attempted to commit it as firmly to memory as he could considering the distractions he was undergoing, and busied his tongue with probing her in turn. She was hot, wet, and musky, of course - No surprises to him there, but the tightness, the way she almost wrestled his tongue for control, that was what he found interesting. One of her paws found the back of his head, and began helping him drive into her. It took effort, and vigorous probing, and the help that she was giving, but as he pressed his tongue into that little space between her hood and her clit, he was rewarded with a full body tremor that made Rzedren reach for the center-post of the tent to steady herself.

The temperature of the tent seemed to rise several degrees in the span of just minutes, the three locked in a writhing, hungry embrace with each other. Even with John’s muffled cry of warning, Zerenz was surprised when she felt and tasted something erupting into her mouth. The sticky, salty essence of the camp cook was a welcome reward for her efforts though, and she swallowed it in stride. Lapping his tool clean was a matter of course, and within moments, Rzedren was letting out a whimpering howl of her own climax.

Rzedren released John’s head from her grasp, letting him flop backward onto the cot as she staggered over and collapsed into it next to him, legs still trembling like jelly. “That . . . whew. Okay, not what I was expecting . . . but good.” Her satisfied panting was hot and heavy enough to fog the cool air inside the tent, and she unceremoniously reached down to haul John up into her arms.

Turning over with his back against Rzedren’s stomach he rested his head on her bountiful breasts, sighing softly. John nodded in weary agreement, face slick with the excitement of two Dorarizin, and the climax of one. “Still, Zerenz? What do you want? You got the low rung on the totem pole for that, so you get the next call.” He was breathing hard, clearly winded, but his flagging tool was already returning to its former, proudly standing self.

Zerenz rose from her knees, and licked her lips. She could still taste him in the back of her throat, and was finding it delightfully erotic. She clicked her teeth, wondering how far she could go, but with her judgment clouded by lust decided to throw caution to the wind. “I’m told humans call it Amazon style?” 

John nodded, the vigor he had just spent returning to his body as he heard those words. Grinning ear to ear, he replied “I have heard of it, and I want it. Where and how should I present myself?”

She didn’t bother telling him, she just took him bodily and hauled him to where she wanted. Hoisting him into the air by his legs, she growled happily as he pushed his tool between her sodden, needly lips. His spongy head slipped inside with almost no effort on his part, which is when Rzedren took hold of his arms, and locked him in a full nelson. “No objections?” She murmured into his ear quietly. “Nope! No objections!” He chirped back, grinning ear to ear.

Zerenz rolled her hips forward, impaling herself with the thrusting motion a male might make when taking a female in John’s position. The roles were reversed now, however, and she found that it was the perfect way to use him. His back arched and his mouth opened in a silent cry of rapture as her hips came into contact with his thighs. His tool was too short to probe her depths, too petite to spread her wide, but in this position, it ground along all her most sensitive parts, and still stretched her insides in novel and unexpectedly pleasant ways. For his account of things, John looked to be in heaven. Her being meant to pair with larger specimens meant that there was almost no discomfort from the unusual angle, but her sex still pressed and stroked and squeezed in all the ways he could ask.

Their coupling increased in force and pace over the next several minutes, the sound of growling, excited yipping, and quiet moaning increasing in volume and frequency as the two lovers both neared their respective climaxes. John, quite literally restrained in the embrace of his thick furred mates, head bumping up against the underside of Rzedren’s breasts with every thrust, could only let out a weak cry of warning as he neared climax.
 

“I-I’m about to-” He stammered, eyes closed, toes curled, and fingers tangled in Rzedren’s fur.
 

Zerenz rammed her hips home, squeezing and milking him as she leaned in and growled softly into his face. “Inside. All of it.” Between the suddenly domineering display, and the intense pleasure of her forceful coupling, he couldn’t help but comply. He climaxed, powerfully, body spasming as he unloaded his pent up lusts into her powerful, hungry loins. She milked him of all he was worth, pinning him there for several long seconds, teeth bared and eyes shut, breath hot against his face. Eyes closed, and on the brink of her own, she felt his seed spreading through her, spreading deeper into her as she imagined it being drawn up into her womb. The thought of her insides, painted in a thin coat of white from the male pinned beneath her was enough to drive her over the brink, and her whole body shuddered as she let out a low howl of bliss. Slipping off his now spent tool, she flopped into the cot with her squad-mate – now den-mate? who welcomed her arrival by scooting over slightly and rolling onto her side.

Tucked between two living fur blankets, shielded from the cold night air, John wriggled deeper into their combined embrace, eyes drooping as sleep already strove to take him.

The two Dorarizin locked eyes, with the human tucked neatly between them, clearly entirely spent. They waited, watching as he slowly drifted off in the span of only a few minutes, with no words needing to be exchanged, just a mutual satisfaction, and newfound bond between the three of them. 

Satisfied that he had finally nodded off, Rzedren was the first to speak, and softly uttered. “So, how long until he’s ready to go again? I wanna try that “Amazon” thing you did.”