Outpost: Hetero Version

"Shoofa, food!"

Osha was calling him for dinner, and he blushed, remembering the previous night's activities. She called again, her voice echoing through the halls of the base. He thought it best to abandon his venture for now and get a hot meal. He could use a break, and he was pretty hungry. He made his way to the kitchen, sulking somewhat due to his lack of progress. All of the ice in the base had melted now, the heating system was running at full capacity and keeping the interior at a constant, balmy temperature. The aliens seemed to love it, would they even want to return to their primitive longhouse after discovering the magic of central heating? Food was the more significant factor, however. They might not be able to hunt here, and if they didn't hunt, they didn't eat. Schaffer hadn't seen Scarface for several days now. He wondered if she was roaming the tundra somewhere nearby, scouring the land for sources of nourishment.

The aliens couldn't sit around the kitchen table, as it was far too small for them both in terms of surface area and height, so they contented themselves with preparing their meat on it and then retreating to other areas of the base to eat. They were rationing the food it seemed, holding off on their usual feasting for the duration of their stay in the base. Not that it mattered to Schaffer, as their portions were still copious by human standards. He took his share of the meat from Osha, placing it on a plate from one of the cupboards and starting to cut it into more sizable chunks with cutlery. This still fascinated the aliens, as their sharp, hooked claws meant that they had no use for eating utensils. All of the aliens had been warmer towards him since his...encounter the previous night. Perhaps word had traveled that their human guest had finally taken part in their sordid rituals, or maybe they could smell the pheromones of their kin on his skin. Either way, even the members of the pack that he had not been formally introduced to were keen to get their hands on him now.

He didn't mind it so much now, it felt...good, welcome. As if sex had been some kind of initiation, they now seemed to consider him a true pack member and apparently fair game for unsolicited petting. He had decided to take the stick out of his ass and just go with it. He would surely be visited again tonight, and he felt a guilty excitement welling in his belly at the prospect as he chewed the oily meat. Did he really want to give up his newfound sense of belonging and easy access to what could only be described as mind-blowing sex in order to return to his mundane and frankly unfulfilling job on the Pinwheel?

He swallowed, banishing the thought from his mind. Worry about that later, right now just focus on getting access to the dish's data stream. There would be time for hard choices and introspection when he actually had options available to him. He finished his meal quickly, eager to return to the computer console and resume his work, but paused for a moment on his way out to allow Osha to scratch his scalp.

***

He worked late into the night, making little progress. All of the aliens had retired to their respective piles by the time his eyes became itchy, and fatigue began to scratch at the back of his brain like a neglected dog begging to be let in. He stretched, yawning, and turned to make his way to the crew quarters. He was interrupted by a metallic clang of metal on metal and a draft of chill wind that blew through the corridor. Someone had opened the main door.

Curious, he changed direction, finding a bedraggled Scarface pushing the main door closed behind her as she waded through a drift of rapidly melting snow that had followed her in. She was wrapped in her white cloak, a shadow cast by the long hood obscuring her face. She started when she saw him, then relaxed.

She pulled back her cowl, appreciating the new heat of the base, and Schaffer saw that her fur was matted with ice. He beckoned for her to follow him, and after a moment of hesitation, she complied. She stumbled, clearly confused by the low gravity, taking a moment to get her footing. Schaffer knew where to find towels, gesturing for the alien to sit on a metal coffee table in the lounge area so that he could rub her down while she thawed. He set a kettle on the stove in the kitchen, they were electric and worked without a need for fuel, intending to heat some water enough for her to drink. He had no coffee or tea, although he was unsure if the alien would have appreciated such things anyway.

It didn't take long for the water to warm, and he poured it into a cup, testing it with his finger before bringing it back to her. She sniffed it experimentally, it probably smelled of metal due to the likely rusty kettle and the poorly maintained piping, but she seemed happy to drink it. He took her cloak, placing it on a nearby chair, running the fluffy towel down her back and across her shoulders as she sat and sipped her beverage. The ice and snow that stuck to her fur in clumps was melting rapidly, but the liberal application of towels was preventing the cold water from soaking into her coat.

Scarface was leaner than the other aliens, there wasn't much fat on her back and shoulders, the sinewy muscles that he felt under his hands as he dragged the towel across her body further illustrating that. Her fat deposits were mostly confined to her hips, butt, and breasts, which gave her a kind of pear-shaped figure. Where her insulation was thin, her musculature rose to the surface, lurking just beneath her white fluff. She was wearing a leather sling to cover her chest, along with the customary loincloth, tied around her waist like some kind of giant string bikini. She was peppered with scars, pink trails where the hair follicles had been damaged and could no longer grow. Her back was practically a tapestry of struggle and battle. Schaffer lacked the shared vocabulary to ask her where she had gotten them.

Her tail waved back and forth, trailing off the edge of the coffee table as Schaffer rubbed her down. She seemed to be enjoying the sensation, her eyes closed as she sagged forwards, remarkably relaxed for someone who always seemed to be on guard. He dried her hair, which unlike that of Osha and many of the other females who kept theirs long, had been tied up in a neat ponytail. He skirted her ears, remembering how Runt had reacted when he had stroked them, wondering if they might be considered an erogenous zone. He dried her arms, then moved down to her ribs and hips, a little apprehensive about skirting her chest and rear. Scarface wasn't like the other aliens, she was far less social. He had never seen her join one of the piles before, not to sleep and not for any other reason. He didn't know how she might react if his hands roamed beyond the acceptable boundaries, he might end up with his own scars, the alien equivalent of a slap to deter an overly friendly suitor. She intrigued him, however. She was mysterious, strong, and perpetually silent. Something about her just drew his attention. He remembered how they had fished together, the alien wrapping him under her long cloak and pulling him against her warm body, the first time that he had seen her express any kind of affection for anyone.

She broke his train of thought, tugging at the sleeve of his suit and looking back at him. Oh, she wanted him to dry her front, fair enough. He walked around to stand in front of her and started to dry her belly with the towel, the alien leaning back slightly to make it easier for him. It was equally peppered with scars, one especially large one that ran across her stomach looked as if it had very nearly disemboweled her. He could feel her abs flexing as he moved, responding to his touch, twin rows of hard muscle that protruded through her soft fat layer. They weren't outwardly visible due to her fur, but they were powerful, honed by a lifetime of hunting and foraging in the high gravity.

She seemed confused by his avoidance of her breasts, gripping his wrist in her hand and moving the towel up to her chest. She had him dry her cleavage, the area that was not concealed by the sling. While there was nothing inherently sexual about the act, he couldn't help but blush as her flesh gave way under his touch. She was not as excessively endowed as Osha had been, but her bust would have been the admiration of any human woman. She pushed out her boobs so that he might reach them more easily, and every time that he dabbed at them, they wobbled in their support. The aliens had not invented sports bras, after all, they had to make do with what they had. She breathed more heavily as he ran the towel over them, drying the tuft of fur on her chest, and he felt her eyes lingering on his warm cheeks as he tried to avoid her gaze. He moved down to her thighs, Scarface writhing slowly as he dried their sensitive inner surface. Was she enjoying this?

He looked up at her, daring to meet her gaze, finding her expression sultry and inviting. She opened her legs further as the table beneath her creaked under her weight, lowering a thumb and forefinger to pull loose the leather strings that held up her loincloth. Schaffer swallowed hard as it fell away, revealing a mound covered in delicate, white fluff. Her pink, puffy labia peeked out from beneath the fur, drawing his eyes. She lowered her fingers, parting them to be sure that Schaffer could see, a drip of clear moisture leaking free to pool on the surface of the table.

Damn it, he was still sore from the previous night, but the allure of her invitation was too much for him to refuse. He had a good idea of what she expected of him, and it was confirmed when he lowered his head towards her loins, gripping a handful of his hair in her fist and tugging him closer. She was rougher than Osha had been, less considerate, and it was exciting. He kneeled, resting his hands on her silken thighs, and she looked down at him with a lecherous expression. She tugged, pulling his hair, and he leaned closer to her.

She was so warm. The heat from her sex radiated outwards, he could feel it on his red cheeks. He sank his fingers into her inner thighs, her cushiony fat giving way to hard muscle, firm and taut. She loosed a drawn-out sigh, one of the few vocalizations that Schaffer had ever heard her make, then tugged at his hair again as if to urge him on. It hurt a little, but it tickled his scalp in a way that he liked. He felt oddly compliant, rubbing his cheek against her leg, breathing hot air on her swollen loins as they dripped strands of glistening fluid. Her fur was like velvet on his skin, and as he drew closer, the sweet smell of her musk filled his nose. Her womanly scent was stronger than that of Osha or Runt, with a hint of exertion and the aroma of fresh snow. Perhaps it was because of her semi-nomadic lifestyle or because she had just returned from the hunt, but the scent was deeply sexual, almost like honey with an underlying hint of salt. It drew him closer, like a bee to a flower, and before he knew what was happening his tongue was parting her lips.

Her grip on his hair grew stronger, as if she was afraid that he might escape from her grasp. She seethed with arousal as he explored her vulva, tracing the creases and folds of her organ with the tip of his tongue. He could feel her powerful muscles flexing beneath her fat as she squirmed, rolling her hips, grinding against his face as if seeking to drive him deeper. She was slippery, glistening, the sight of her exposed loins sending a familiar throb of excitement through Schaffer's now aching erection. His member strained against his suit, struggling to break free as her excitement slid down his chin. She was sopping, her juices dampening the fluff around her crotch. It tasted salty and sour, oddly metallic, but he was too turned on to care. He mouthed and kissed, dragging the surface of his tongue across her flesh, making her twitch and buck. Her thighs quivered around his head as he flicked it across her protruding clitoris.

She was reacting more strongly than his skill level would suggest, he wasn't exactly practiced. Was it something about his anatomy? The aliens had far longer and more powerful tongues than humans, they could probably reach deep inside their partners, but their course texture might make them less suited to such delicate work. Human tongues might be shorter, but they were smoother, too. Emboldened, Schaffer pressed her firm nub of flesh between his lips and sucked it into his mouth, teasing it with quick flurries. Both of her hands found purchase in his hair, her steely thighs crushing his head between them, Schaffer hoping that she retained enough self-control to avoid popping it like a ripe cherry. Scarface arched her spine, opening her mouth in a silent wail as her tail coiled around one of the table legs and Schaffer's mouth was flooded with a fresh stream of her essence. It startled him, she was so wet, so slippery. It dripped from her loins in strings, clinging to her fur and linking his lips to hers in a sagging web.

He lingered there for a few more moments, drawing her clitoris out from beneath its hood of protective skin and painting it with his saliva, then moved down to circle her twitching opening. She tugged at his hair as he pushed his tongue inside her, the sting sending an appreciative shiver down his spine. She was even tighter than Runt, the powerful muscles of her walls clinging to him violently and undulating, trying to drag him deeper. He wanted so desperately to unfasten his suit and plunge his throbbing member into the Huntress, but she would not release her grip on his hair. She kept him between her legs, her sticky nectar making the fine hairs that lined her thighs stick to his cheeks.

He slipped a finger into her, near frictionless due to her excitement, and her tunnel clamped down on it with an almost painful intensity. It felt as if she could have crushed a damned soda can in there. He dug around with his finger as he licked, mapping the bumpy, fleshy interior. She was burning up, it might have been alarming had he not already been familiar with the heat that their furnace-like bodies put out. He remembered how being inside Osha and Runt had felt. The aliens were equipped with unbearable bumps and soft barbs that cruelly raked anything that had the fortune, or the misfortune, of being thrust inside. They had the added effect of drawing back his foreskin, exposing his tender glans and allowing the textured tunnel to scour it. Was he drooling, or was his mouth just full of her emission? He wanted her, badly.

She thrust against his face, seeking out further stimulation and glazing him with her leaking juices, rolling her hips as if she were attempting to fuck his finger. Whenever he tried to pull away, she would tighten her grip in his hair, sending a jolt of confused pleasure coursing down his spine. She seemed almost desperate, perhaps she was more antisocial than he had thought and had not participated in the pack's sordid activities for some time, if at all.

Her breathing became more ragged as he shifted his attention back to her clitoris, her chest heaving, making her boobs bounce attractively in their leather sling as he peered up at her over her damp mound. She was biting her lower lip, one sharp tooth protruding to press into the pink flesh as she watched him with her blue eyes.

She jerked suddenly, and he felt her tunnel narrow around his finger, the hot, slippery flesh crushing his digit. It actually hurt a little, but he fought the impulse to withdraw it, curling it against her quivering walls in order to further stimulate her instead. He sucked her swollen clitoris into his mouth, trapping it between his lips and flicking his tongue across its polished surface. He felt her fleshy insides ripple with contractions, the iron muscles of her thick thighs squeezing his head, trembling around his cheeks.

He did his best to hang on, drawing out every last spasm as she rode the waves of her climax. Her lips were tightly pursed, even as she came, she didn't utter so much as a sound beyond her strained and halting breaths. Schaffer slowed his pace as the pangs of her pleasure gradually receded, licking gently as if he were soothing a wound. As her senses returned to her, the hard grip in his hair released, becoming a placating stroking that tickled his scalp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve as she unclenched her thighs and allowed him to withdraw from between them. A thick rope of her emission linked his lips to her sopping loins, hanging there for a moment before breaking and dropping to the floor. Scarface eyed the conspicuous bulge in Schaffer's pants, and he understood that this was only foreplay. She wanted him, he could see it in her covetous gaze.

She rose to her feet, looming over him, her legs a little shaky as she recovered from her orgasm. She reached down and gripped his upper arm, pulling him along behind her as she marched over to one of the faux-leather couches in the lounge area. There were several, along with coffee tables for drinks and games, and monitors for entertainment that were currently dark with no signal to display. There was even a soda machine that looked as if it had seen better days. Most of the drinks inside had burst over time due to the cold, coating the interior glass with a dull, brown sheen.

Her wide hips rolled as she walked and his eyes were drawn to her ample ass, almost at chest-height relative to him. Her cheeks were larger than his head, toned muscle overlaid with cushy fat that begged for questing fingers as it shifted and wobbled with her gait. She flung him forward, casting him unceremoniously onto the couch to land facing her. He struggled into a sitting position, the statement about who was calling the shots here made abundantly clear. Oh well, this wasn't his first rodeo. He could handle Scarface, she was smaller and lighter than Osha, after all.

He considered for a moment that he might have just uttered his last words as the alien mounted the couch, straddling the smaller human with one massive thigh to either side of him. Her clawed hand reached down do close gently around his throat, not hard enough to choke him, but enough to make it abundantly clear that he would be following her lead. He felt her claws prick the back of his neck as they enclosed it, and she angled his face up toward hers. She leaned down and pressed her lips against his, her weight sinking him into the couch. If she tasted herself on his breath, it only served to further arouse her, a kiss that had started off gentle and exploratory suddenly becoming more violent. She caught his lower lip in her teeth, tugging gently, her reflective eyes locked to his as she drank in his reaction. She was smirking, clearly enjoying the power that she had over him, and he gasped as she released him from her teeth. She forced her tongue into his mouth now, long and slippery, like some kind of deep sea eel. Should he have wanted to stop it, he would not have been able, the muscle was far too strong. He accepted it willingly, eagerly, letting her fill his comparatively small mouth. He could feel its textured surface as it flexed and twisted, encircling his own tongue and subduing it like a prey animal. Their kisses were divine, intoxicating. As she tightened her steely grip on his throat and closed her free hand around one of his wrists, pinning it to the headrest of the couch, he felt as if he might pass out right there.

She held him like that for a minute, her tongue more resembling a tentacle as it probed the reaches of his throat, leaking her metallic saliva into his mouth as it coiled and undulated like an angry viper. He couldn't help but thrust his hips, fucking the air in futility, unable to press his erection against her loins due to their difference in height. Even now, they dripped her viscous fluids onto his suit in clinging strands that matted the pelts.