Outpost: Bisexual Version

Schaffer might have been disgusted, but the throes of Runt's pleasure were making his pillowy insides wring him like a farmer milking a cow, the muscles beyond his delicate walls drawing out his own emission as they stroked him from the base to the tip.

He gritted his teeth as his climax wracked him, Runt mewling as he felt the heat of it bubble up inside him. He was so tight that not a drop escaped, the only way for it to go was deeper. Schaffer wrapped his arms around the alien's waist and buried his face in his fluffy chest as he filled him with his seed, his animal instincts unable to tell Runt's spasming passage apart from a fertile womb. He trapped the alien's cock between their two bodies in the process, feeling it pulse against his skin. It just kept going, every new wave of euphoria dizzying him as he fucked the mess deeper, his partner shuddering and whining as Schaffer's erection flexed inside of him.

After what felt like an eternity, Schaffer was spent, releasing his tight hold around Runt's doughy midsection and collapsing back into the pile of pillows. He was drenched in sweat, panting like he had run a marathon. Fucking in one point three Gs was no laughing matter.

As he lay back, he saw Runt's pink member still bobbing in the air, linked to his stomach by a sagging web of fluid. The alien was still trembling like a leaf, his eyelids drooping as he endured the last few pulses of his climax. He let Schaffer's cock slide out of him, falling onto his side and wrapping an arm around his reluctant lover. He cooed contentedly, pushing his face into Schaffer's neck and purring, his lingering erection brushing against the furry pelt that now lined his suit. Even the alien's fluffy tail coiled around one of his legs possessively, his warm breath tickling Schaffer's skin.

They lay together in a wet, steamy heap, Schaffer not sure what to feel. He couldn't tell whether the heat that he felt in his face was from shame, arousal, or exertion. He was satisfied, at least, mercifully free of the frustration that had been building during his stay in the longhouse. He glanced down at Runt, seeing that the alien was already asleep, his eyes closed and his round ears twitching. Schaffer wouldn't be able to wriggle free without disturbing him, the little guy had an iron grip on him, he was surprisingly strong.

Wondering what their encounter meant, if anything, Schaffer finally let his fatigue overcome him.

CHAPTER 7: GOING NATIVE

Schaffer donned his cloak as the pack geared up for their trip. He still wasn't sure just how far it was, but the aliens were gearing up for a long journey. They were bringing supplies of food and fuel, all of their weapons, and plenty of tools. Each one carried a heavy pack laden with goods, and they were wrapped in layers of protective clothing. Shorts and vests, cloaks and shawls, some even wore long hoods to protect their ears. This was going to be a serious ordeal, Schaffer realized. He would have to trust the aliens to keep him alive.

What had they even been doing so far out when they had found him in the snow? Was the food situation so desperate that they had to range so far away from their longhouse in search of prey? He hadn't seen any real indication of that while he had been staying with them, food had been plentiful.

Zagza ordered everyone into a column, leading the way as they left through the main doors. Scarface was already outside with her spyglass, scouting ahead in search of danger or opportunities. Osha walked up behind Schaffer, scooping him off his feet and into her warm embrace. She cradled him, wrapping him in her fur cloak, and he gripped her like a baby monkey. It still made him feel comically useless, but he just couldn't keep pace with the aliens in the deep snow, and Osha certainly wasn't inconvenienced by him. She must be strong enough to lift ten Schaffers. Perhaps if he were to sit in her backpack with his torso poking out, it might feel more dignified. But by carrying him in her arms she also shielded him from the wind and bathed him in her body heat.

It was the only way that he'd ever make it to the outpost as anything other than a frozen corpse.

***

They marched for what must have been hours, the giant aliens never tiring and never faltering as they made their way through the snow. Schaffer's vision was obscured by the cape that was wrapped over him protectively, his only indication of movement being Osha's loping strides and heavy breathing. He could feel the wind and snow tearing at the cape, blowing and tugging at it, the freezing cold penetrating its surface. It was frigid, the very air itself almost hurt to breathe, fingers of ice tearing at his throat and lungs. Even in Osha's arms, there was ice matting the fur of his suit, his breath turning to crystals as he exhaled. His limbs were stiff, and he couldn't feel his fingers or toes.

Perhaps this was folly, and it would have been better to take Zagza's advice and stay at the longhouse. Life there was surely preferable to death in the snow, but he had to try for the outpost. Not only for his sake, but for the aliens who had rescued him.

He was shivering violently, and Osha had noticed, her pace slowing and her muffled voice calling out to her comrades. He felt her free hand slip beneath the cape to probe at him, taking his hand in hers to test his temperature. It must have felt like a block of ice to her, because her finger moved up to his nose to check that he was still breathing.

"I'm still here," he said through chattering teeth. The cape was pulled away, exposing him to the wind and the blinding glare of the fluorescent sun reflecting on the snow. He blinked his eyes as they adjusted, realizing that his lashes and eyebrows were caked with ice. A few members of the pack crowded around him, concern etched on their expressions. Zagza barked something, and they pushed closer.

Schaffer realized they were encircling him, forming a shield of warm bodies that would block out the snow and cold, like a colony of emperor penguins. Another female pressed against Osha from the front, it was hard to tell who was who with all the hoods and shawls, and he found himself sandwiched between the two women. He was surrounded by warm fat and soft fur, almost engulfed by their bosoms. Their combined body heat was intense, and although it did not immediately drive off the cold, he felt the warmth beginning to seep through his clothing.

He looked around him, his head barely protruding from the combined cleavage as the women locked arms in an embrace. It looked as if the whole pack was piled into a group hug, and he could feel the mass of aliens shift as they tried to press closer, concentrating their body heat with Schaffer at the center.

He was moved. These people, who had known him for little more than a week, really cared about him. They wanted to protect him. They must consider him to be a member of their pack now, part of their family. They were built for this environment, but they were obviously cold too. Even they had piled on layers of extra protection for this trip, yet they suffered the winds and snow for his benefit. He fought back a stray tear, lest it freeze in his eye. What compelled them to such feats of selflessness for the sake of some alien who couldn't even speak well enough to thank them?

***

They stayed that way for at least half an hour. Schaffer felt his arms and legs limber up, the feeling returning to his extremities. It was downright sweltering now, the aliens could produce an incredible amount of body heat when they were together. This was the same technique that they had used to thaw him when they had found his frozen body, he realized. Osha and the other female cradled him in their arms still, their fat, heavy breasts wrapping him like a hot dog in a bun.

When he felt ready to continue, he gave them his customary thumbs up. Zagza called out, and they returned to their column, Schaffer wrapped safely in Osha's arms again as the pack marched over the snow drifts.

***

Zagza called out something in their native tongue that Schaffer did not understand. Schaffer felt Osha stop, then lower him into the snow. He ducked under her cloak to see the outpost a short distance away. It was surrounded by snow drifts and covered in hanging icicles, the massive satellite dish protruding from the roof through the constant blizzard of airborne powder that was blown by the winds. It looked like some kind of steel monument in this desolate, windswept wasteland.

The pack seemed unsure, waiting for Schaffer to lead them to an entrance. What must this place look like to their alien eyes? He stepped forward, the cold immediately beginning to tug at his suit the moment that he left Osha's shadow, and marched towards where he knew the door to be. The pack followed him, craning their necks to look at the dish as it loomed over them. Schaffer had not locked the door when he had left on that fateful day, intending to end his own life. There had been no reason to. Now he found the heavy metal door ajar, a pile of snow penetrating the interior. No matter, it would be no less frozen. He shoved his shoulder against the door, and it creaked open on its hinges, Schaffer stepping into the gloomy interior. The aliens followed cautiously, crouching in order to pass through the human-sized opening. Once inside, most were able to stand almost erect, as the ceiling was fairly high to accommodate all of the electronics and ventilation systems that ran through the building. Only Zagza and a couple of the aliens who were over eight feet tall had to stoop.

Some seemed curious, their eyes wide and bright, their ears swiveling to track the unfamiliar sounds of wind on metal. Others were afraid of the alien structure, sticking close together lest some unknown threat emerge from one of the corridors to attack them. Schaffer had but one objective in mind, get through the main computer access door. If he could gain access to those controls then he could reactivate the generator, and with it, the heating and lights. That was the most important part, he wouldn't survive here unaided for long if he couldn't get the furnace going.

He made a beeline for the central hub, where the door was located, gesturing for Zagza to follow him. Fuck codes and fuck locks, he had a plan to get inside that room. Zagza was going to rip it off its hinges or dent it in. They reached the door, Schaffer glaring at it like an old adversary. He looked to Zagza, then demonstrated that he needed access by tugging at the handle. The tall alien leaned down and gripped the handle in his massive hand, tearing it right off the door with a primal grunt. Schaffer stood wide-eyed as the alien handed it to him. Well, that wasn't really what he had meant. Now they had no other choice than to kick the door in. Oh well...

Schaffer gave it a kick, then slammed it with his shoulder to no avail, trying to show Zagza what to do. The alien got the gist of it and raised his clawed, paw-like foot, slamming it down on the door with enough force to ring the metal like a church bell. The sound reverberated through the corridors as Zagza prepared for a second blow, his spring-like muscles storing enough energy that he could probably have kicked a truck onto its side. The second blow visibly dented the door, leaving deep scratches in the metal where Zagza's claws had scoured it. Schaffer took a few steps back, worried that the forces at play might somehow hurt him. He didn't fancy taking an airborne lug nut to the face or something similar.

Zagza hit it again with a grunt, the door buckling without quite breaking away from the hinges and locking mechanism. The damned thing was reinforced, probably to prevent tampering, but Zagza's kicks had the power of a pneumatic battering ram. The engineers couldn't have accounted for this. One final kick did the job, knocking the door backwards as the hinges gave out, breaking away from the door frame. The lock remained intact, slipping out of its mechanism in the wall, a long, thick rod of steel. The heavy door clattered to the floor, and Schaffer stepped over it triumphantly, surveying the computer room. There was a pylon in the center extending from floor to ceiling, the mechanisms that controlled the dish must be contained within. Built around it was a console bank, covered in innumerable buttons and switches, with display monitors that were currently dark. There was power to the computer, however. The status lights on the console were blinking, which meant that the auxiliary power source was online. That was a relief. If the computer had switched from the main generator to the backup, and the backup had been somehow damaged, they would have been screwed.

Zagza seemed hesitant to enter, waiting outside as Schaffer walked over to the console, examining it. Most of these functions likely controlled the satellite dish and communications equipment, which was not his priority right now. All he had to do was access the central computer and change the power state of the building. The computer was powered up, but it wasn't in user mode, all of the displays were dark.

After a moment of searching, he found a switch that was labeled set user mode and flicked it. The monitors came to life, displaying a brief diagnostic screen before booting into a user interface. Schaffer located a trackball and a keyboard embedded beneath the largest monitor and began to explore the menus. Before long, he had located the power settings for the base, and it appeared that he did not need an access code or a password as he had feared. The designers of this system must have assumed that whoever gained access to the room would have the necessary clearance, judging by the elaborate and heavy duty locking mechanism on the thick door.

He changed the settings so that the outpost's systems would draw power from the main generator, grinning as the lights flared to life and the rumble of the heating system echoed through the walls. Almost immediately, a warm breeze began to emanate from vents in the roof, ruffling the fur of the aliens. The ventilation system must not have had time to freeze over again in the week or so that he had been absent. Schaffer smiled, running his fingers along the wall as he left the room. The layer of ice that coated the metal was already beginning to melt.

He shuffled past the line of aliens who were waiting in the corridor. While the ceiling was high enough for most of them to stand comfortably, they were almost all too wide for the narrow hallways, making two aliens passing each other practically impossible. He pushed the main entrance door closed, struggling against the wind and snow, trying to prevent the heat from escaping. It shut with a click, and he turned to look at the aliens. They were standing around, clearly enjoying the warmth that had begun to radiate through the building, but unsure of what to do next. Better show them around, he didn't know how long they would be staying here.

***

He showed them the various rooms of the building, giving them the guided tour. There were the crew quarters with cots where they could sleep, the food preparation area, the storage room where they could pile the substantial gear and the supplies that they had brought with them. It was a shame the pipes still weren't working, perhaps they would thaw as the building heated up. That said, the aliens were no strangers to melting snow for water. Although the outpost was cramped compared to what they were used to, the aliens enjoyed the warmth, and they seemed to find the miniature human furnishings and tools to be entertaining. Yuka and Yura stormed through the base, examining every curiosity that they could get their hands on. Runt trailed after Schaffer, seemingly unsure of himself in this new environment. Zagza explored the base from top to bottom as if he wanted to create a mental map of it, ensuring that there were no dangers here that could harm his pack.

Schaffer was a little worried about the food situation. The aliens had brought a substantial supply of meat with them, but knowing their appetites, it might not last for more than a few days. He didn't see Scarface anywhere, she must be out scouting for food sources.

Oh well, he was sure that the aliens would be fine. The next priority was learning how to used the damned satellite dish and the communications equipment in order to send a message to the Admiralty, or the nearest UNN fleet, or anyone who might listen. It must be operational, the base was still trawling local communications for sensitive data and transmitting it to the UNN. He might not even need to re-aim the dish in order to get his distress call out, just find a way to alter the outgoing packets.

The problem was, it was all custom, non-standard equipment with no user manuals anywhere in sight. If Schaffer was going to learn how to operate the system, he would have to do it on his own.

***

He spent the entire day poring over the controls and menus, trying to create some kind of cohesive map of the system. Despite being an engineer, it was slow going. Whoever was intended to operate this machine would have had training in advance, and the system was not designed to be user-friendly in the least. Despite being too small for the aliens to pile up in the way that they liked to, everyone seemed to have chosen sleeping arrangements in the crew quarters, and Schaffer was happy to select an empty bed with no fear of waking up to an alien's furry rump perched on his face. The rooms were evenly heated now, positively balmy. In contrast to humans, it was the heat that seemed to make these aliens sluggish and lethargic, rather than the cold. They lounged and lazed like a pride of lions, this was the first time that he had ever seen them so exhausted and sleepy, but they seemed quite content. He saw no reason to think that they might overheat, this building was not warmer than being in close proximity to a fire pit, it was just a lot more consistent.

It seemed that some of the aliens had elected to remove the mattresses from the bed frames, which were far too small for their exaggerated height and weight. They had lined them up on the floor side by side to create a soft carpet to sleep on. The pack was spread between the several crew quarters, with maybe four aliens to a room. They weren't large enough to accommodate many more.

Schaffer wandered between the rooms as he searched for somewhere to sleep, ideally with an intact bed, but it seemed as if the aliens had cannibalized every last one. With a sigh of resignation, he selected the room that contained Osha and at least two other lumps of fur that he couldn't identify. They had formed a pile in the center of the room, lying down on their carpet of mattresses a short distance away. It was hot enough that he felt no need to huddle for warmth. He might even be able to remove this damned suit if he could find some human clothing, but one thing at a time. For now, he was tired and wanted to rest. He'd need to be alert and sharp if he was going to unravel the secrets of the satellite console.

As he started to fall asleep, he felt something brush his leg, jolting him awake. One of the aliens was flicking their tail around, probably dreaming. He began to doze off again, then a second time the tail bumped him. He grew annoyed and rolled over to see what was going on, only to be met with the sight of Osha engaged in a deep, obscene kiss with one of her bunkmates while the second watched with longing eyes. Osha was leaning over the smaller female, one of the bead women, plunging her long tongue into her mouth. The woman's breath came in staggering bursts as Osha ravished her, one furry hand gripping her chin to keep her from turning her head away, flashes of pink tongue and lurid sounds escaping from their locked lips. The woman was positively writhing under the assault, her eyes closed and her voluptuous body twisting and jerking as she rubbed her thick, meaty thighs together. Osha was dominant, predatory, clearly having fun with her victim. She drove her knee between the woman's thighs, pressing it into her groin and eliciting a squeal of delight that made Schaffer's member pulse and ache as he watched in stunned silence. They were a mere meter away, he could reach out and delve his hands into their soft, supple flesh. He could join the pile if he were so inclined.