Rectification

I grumbled as I walked down the hallway in the remote outpost, approaching the large room that I was to meet my "friend" in. The journey there wasn't terrible, but it was long and inconvenient and took time out of my day I could have used for other things. I did say I would meet him, however, and intended to keep my word.

I stepped into the large oval-shaped room and stood at the entrance. The room had a few tables and chairs scattered around, and some computer systems and workstations on one side. The far end of the room consisted of several large windows, offering a panoramic view of the vast area they were tasked with studying. A big rocky, hilly, forested area that at that moment was very foggy. It was a nice view, all things considered. What the place needed was a fireplace, I thought, and then it would have been very cozy. Even a nice place to call home perhaps, provided one didn't mind the potential difficulties in getting supplies to this location.

I turned my attention to the center of the room, where there was a large recliner, facing the array of large windows with its back turned to me.

"Come on in," came a voice from behind the recliner. It was cooing, sounding playful and chipper, almost sing-songy. I took a few steps toward the recliner, before stopping.

"Closerrrr," it continued. An arm hung off the side of the armrest and beckoned with a clawed finger. I sighed and stepped forward some more, walking all the way up to it. As I approached it, the recliner slowly swiveled around to face me, its occupant examining me up and down, which of course allowed me to get an equally good look at him too.

He was like a humanoid bird, a member of a sapient species we had on-again, off-again relations with. They resembled birds of prey, with curved, hooked beaks, feathers, talons, and so on. At the same time, they were human-sized (if not slightly taller on average), stood upright, and were wingless, having instead evolved to be tool users like us. Despite their lack of natural flight ability, they at some point had become quite adept at space travel, which I found interesting. That's a subject for a different day. But every now and again we would cross paths with them. Our relations were difficult at times, though we were never really enemies either and were able to work together on some things too. I guess we ended up more as rivals, in a way?

They were kind of a pain in the ass to deal with too sometimes, I thought. Intelligent and competent, sure, and very smart with engineering and technical matters, but cocky and stuck-up. As far as I was concerned, if they wanted to act like they were better than everyone else, they should have taken steps to prove it. Well that's small stuff I guess, all things considered.

This one in particular had a coat of white and grey feathers, with spots of black thrown in. If he stood up, he would have been about my height, though I can't say which of us was heavier. His feathers made him look plush and large. Like a big feather pillow, I liked to imagine. I also imagined he was probably very scrawny without them. What if he suddenly lost them through some mishap, revealing himself to be stick-thin, with a big pair of spotted underwear underneath them like in the cartoons. I resisted the urge to laugh at the thought.

Anyway, his hands were covered in yellow-orange scales, with black talons capping his fingers, and his feet were bird-like in shape, though bulky and quite large. On his face was, of course, his shiny black and yellow hooked beak, similar to that of an eagle, and his eyes a very piercing blue.

These creatures certainly looked nice, I will admit that much. Quite decorative, even. It might have been fun to stick one in a cage, I thought, one of those kinds that dangled from the ceiling, as a sort of centerpiece to amuse visitors. Could have them wear a bunch of little baubles too, for a bit of flair. Maybe if my more speculative investments worked out and I was in a position to retire early into a comfortable, lavish lifestyle, I could find some way to make that happen.

"Good on you for not keeping me waiting," he commented. "Ever so punctual."

"Yeah, what can I say," I said. "Anyway, I guess we had to meet like this, sooner or later."

"Indeed," he replied. He dipped his head down, eyeing me from behind his big hooked beak. "You remember why you're here, right?"

I sighed. "Yes, I know. I tried to beat you at that little game we played."

"And?"

"And, I lost."

"Mm." He dropped his gaze down at the back of his hand, lazily examining the talons on his fingers.

I thought for a moment, before leaning my head in. "I mean, that's it. Right?"

He looked back up at me. "No, that's not it. You also tried to embarrass me in the process. Remember?"

"Yeah, I figured you had it coming." I crossed my arms. "Being so... pompous and all. You were on a winning streak, and I could see it getting to your head. I wanted to knock you off your perch. Well, metaphorically speaking."

"Mm. And how'd that end up working out for you."

"Poorly," I conceded. "All right, all right. I guess I shouldn't have tried to do that. There." I stopped, before continuing. "I hope you're not mad or anything."

The corners of his beak slowly turned up into a smile. "Me? Mad? No, far from it! I'm actually kind of delighted you're here. Just, you know... turnabout can be very entertaining, and all."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. Look, I said I'd make it up to you. You tell me what I can do for you, so we can put this whole thing to bed." I sighed. "And I know how your... kind is. Can you promise not to have it be anything weird?"

"Let me think," he said. He hummed, looked up toward the ceiling and put his finger under his beak in thought. Then, shook his head. "No, I can't promise that."

I rolled my eyes again. "Fine. Well just tell me, alright?"

He cupped his chin in his hand. Well, his beak chin rather, whatever that part of it was called. Tapping the curve of it with one of his claws. Then he perked up.

"Ah. I know what you can do." He smiled again, reaching down to pull the lever on the recliner so the footrest would pop out. He then leaned back and propped his large feet on it, beckoning with his finger.

I looked at him, puzzled. He pointed to the ground. "Now, why don't you get on your knees."

My jaw dropped. "I beg your pardon?"

He snapped his fingers. "Come on. You said you'd do anything, remember?" He maintained a rather cheerful tone as he reminded me of that.

I looked at him blankly, as I started to sink down to my knees, my face at eye level with his large feet. I hadn't actually seen their feet up close like this before, and frankly, a part of me was always curious about them. Whereas regular birds of prey mostly have very long toes, his feet were quite bulky, ostensibly to support his weight. They were plantigrade, covered in yellow-orange scales like his hands, and had something vaguely resembling a ball, sole, and heel, yet maintained the three long toes and the heel toe on the other side. They were sort of an effective cross between bird and human feet. I guess having a front row view of them like this did sate my curiosity somewhat, but meeting them like this? Well that was certainly awkward, given the circumstances.

He flexed his long toes, curling and uncurling them. They looked very prehensile. I imagined he could have picked up a quarter with them without having to bend over. I shuddered nervously as I watched his toes flex, seeing the long, curved talons flick toward me as they uncurled.

Those things were designed to kill, I realized. They were dangerous, not to mention they had this uncannily cruel appearance. I also got the sense that he may have been delighting in showing them off to me too, as if to impress upon me what he may have been capable of administering.

And as I looked over them, a pall of fear suddenly overcame me. I wasn't nervous around him before, but from this angle, I found, he was positively intimidating. I felt very small all of a sudden. The same kind of feeling any prey animal might feel when one of these guys rapidly descended upon them, assuming they even saw them in time.

"Now, why don't you just pamper me, for a bit," he offered, leering down at me with a very penetrating gaze that supplanted his earlier playful tone. "It's a fitting way to make amends, hm?" He hummed quietly.

My gaze dropped back down to his feet. This was insane. Out of everything I could have done, this is what he settled on. What was he trying to prove. Probably some ham-handed attempt to humiliate me more than anything, put me in my place. Or, perhaps in some way, he had sensed my curiosity about them during a previous interaction. The thought of this made me squirm a little bit from embarrassment.

I let out a sigh and swallowed, tentatively putting a hand on the back of one of his large feet. The scales were rough and warm to the touch, and I could feel the bulk of his foot when I pressed against it. I thought it was interesting how resting his feet on that footrest forced his heel toes to curl upwards.

As I put my hand there, he slipped his other foot up to my shoulder, setting it around the crook of my neck, and curled his toes around it. His talons poked into my skin as his grip tightened around my shoulder. I felt my heart start to pound as he used his grip to pull me in even more, making me shuffle just a few inches closer to him.

He slipped his other foot under my chin as my hand rested upon it, using the backs of his talons to lift my chin up, their tips scraping lightly against my neck, forcing me to look up at him. I found this annoying. I was trying to focus, I thought, and he kept rudely disrupting me like that.

"Tell you what," he said, looking at me, while my chin rested against the tops of his talons. "Since I like you, I'll let you decide how to proceed. Sound fair?"

I gulped and nodded, looking down at the talons wrapped around my shoulder. I jerked a little bit and instantly felt their tips poke my shoulder and back. Given his grip strength, it didn't seem that he had any intention of removing it any time soon. Slowly, I slid my hand down the side of his other foot, beginning to press my thumb into the spot just underneath the ball, rolling in little circles, just to test the waters. He seemed to like that - I could see him relax a little bit in his recliner.

Careful to avoid getting poked by the talons clutching my shoulder, I lifted my other arm up and grabbed his foot on the other side, using both of my thumbs to massage it. My fingers pressed against the top of his foot as my thumbs rubbed the little spot right under the ball. He uncurled his toes, opening his foot up to give me more room to work with, the big curved talons now on full display.

I shifted a little bit in place to reposition myself, starting to pet over the rough scales on the top of his foot as I worked my hands down, massaging against them. My hands trailed down slowly, rubbing down the length of his sole, using the palm of one hand to press against what may have been considered his instep, or its equivalent, while my other hand moved down and cupped under his ankle as I worked my way farther down the sole.

I sat there for several minutes, dutifully massaging his feet, while having to avoid getting poked by his talons. His feet were massive, I thought. Which meant that much more work for me, apparently. Though, I found myself slowing down a little bit, taking my time more, and despite my fear, becoming increasingly fascinated by those things. I couldn't get over how big and powerful they looked, and the way those claws threateningly flicked at me as I worked titillated me in a way that's hard to explain. When he unfurled his toes, it was menacing, and yet it was curiously like watching a present being opened. There was a certain feral, exotic quality to them that was giving me goosebumps.

He laid his head back, tilting it up enough so I could see the underside of his beak. He was completely relaxed, seeming to enjoy what I was doing. I felt reassured by that, though also annoyed at the stubborn grip he maintained on my shoulder with his other talons, wincing when they occasionally dug into my skin. But I continued on, squeezing and petting over his large foot, moving my hands around all of its contours. I kneaded it, clutching its large mass between my palms, while starting to squirm a little bit in place.

Apparently satisfied, he relaxed his grip on my shoulder, and slid his foot back onto the recliner footrest. But then, he moved his other foot up to clutch my other shoulder in the same way, basically swapping them. Oh right, he has two of them. So naturally, I went to work on that one too, rubbing, kneading, and working my fingers along its length, while also petting over the rough scales.

He didn't seem ticklish, I noticed, and seemed to respond well to everything I was doing. This left me feeling free to experiment, which, of course, just made me more comfortable exploring over them from every conceivable angle, as much as I liked. And I did, too. I pet over the backs of his toes, feeling them bend slightly from the pressure I applied, and over the curves of his talons, seeing how smooth and hard they were.

After several more minutes of this, my hands started to get tired from the rubbing and kneading, and I started to back off. I didn't want to overdo it anyway either. I looked up at him, as if to wait for a cue. Alright, was that good enough?

Casually, he slipped his foot closer to my body, tapping my chest with his talons, before snaking it up my chest and slipping the curved backs of his talons back under my chin again. He pressed the bulk of his foot against my chest. I kept my hands on it nervously and looked up at him, as he maintained his grip on my shoulder with his other foot.

"Oh, we can go a little farther even, can't we?" I gave him a confused look, before he slipped his foot up even higher, starting to trail his long toes against my chin, and working their way up to my lips. I gasped and blushed hard. Seriously? I watched him, stunned, from behind the three talons in front of my eyes, the tips of which were now resting on my forehead. Like looking at him through a set of prison bars.

He didn't say anything else. So, after a bit of hesitation, I gingerly flicked my tongue out, brushing it over the scaled ball of his foot. I lapped very lightly, moving my hand back around to cup underneath his ankle. My other hand braced it on the side, while my nose brushed against his sole. My tongue licked again, and again, while his talons flashed in front of my face menacingly. I shivered, and my hands shook slightly as I tried to hold it steady, quite surprised at the budding sense of excitement that was welling up inside me, as well as my increasing, well, lack of hesitation to do this.

Then, I moved my face up, running my tongue under the shiny black talons themselves, from the bases all the way to the tips, lapping one several times, careful not to poke my tongue on them, then moving over to the next one, before slipping down and licking his toes, and then back down to the ball of his foot. Then my tongue slid downward further, pressing itself along its considerable length until my chin hovered just above that curled heel talon, only for my tongue to slowly snake its way back upwards again, up, up, up, all the way back up to the ball of his foot.

I should have felt completely humiliated by this, and yet somehow, it was delightful. These things needed meticulous, loving care, I found myself thinking, and why leave him to do it all on his own. No, that wouldn't be right. He was right to delegate this work, indeed.

He then slid his foot up higher, pressing the ball of his foot against my forehead, his long toes curled and resting on top of my head, with his talon tips poking the top of it, and putting his instep within reach of my tongue. Inexplicably, I found myself gradually taking longer, slower, more deliberate licks, pressing my tongue down against his rough skin. I ran my tongue along the length of his foot, up and down, bristling at how strange the scales felt against it. As I did that, his heel talon curled, aiming up towards my chin, which kept me on edge and from fully relaxing into what I was doing.

"Mm... nice..." he uttered, sighing dreamily. I tilted my head in an effort to dodge his talons, pressing my face directly toward his sole so I could continue to run my tongue over it. My stomach fluttered, as I found myself also having to manage the raging hard-on that had formed under my pants. I moaned softly, my eyes shut halfway, and as I started to kiss his sole, one of my hands slipped down, reaching for my waist.

"Ah," he chided, taking his foot off of my shoulder. He slipped it down under my arm, and used its bulk to lift it back up onto the footrest, effectively cutting short the relief I was aiming for. He shot a stern gaze at me. "Use *both* hands."

I gasped and nodded, frustrated at this, not allowed to do anything but give my full attention to those big feet, feeling completely controlled by them. But I quickly acquiesced as he placed his foot right back on my shoulder and clutched again. This all only moved me to take out my frustration by licking and kissing even harder. At this point my eyes were completely shut, a few tears starting to stream down my face as it flushed bright red.

And as I continued to work my way down a little bit to kiss a little lower, he slowly curled his toes around my head, enveloping it. His three talons poking against the back of my head, and his heel talon curled up to poke me gently under the chin. I gripped his ankle with both hands now, kissing and sucking, each pass with my tongue met with the roughness of his scales, his toes clutching my head and his talons poking the top of it as if to remind me to do a good job, or else.

I couldn't believe this was happening. His feet were menacing, yet so intoxicating. This was really hard work too. As my head remained enveloped in his grip, I kept it still, while my tongue swirled around the same spot on his foot, in little circles. I labored to ignore the raging erection I had developed in the course of this, but it was very hard even to keep from squirming in place, at least.

The curious stew of frustration at the inability to stop, or grant myself any kind of release, started going to my head in a particular way. I found myself mindlessly making love to that thing, as if I was on autopilot. Almost losing control of myself, and even losing awareness of my surroundings, with my face buried against his massive foot. Feeling the warm scales against my forehead and cheeks as I affectionately rubbed against it and kissed it passionately, my tongue flicking out in between kisses to probe against it. I think I did this for several minutes, I don't know - I had lost track of time. It just went on, and on. All I remember is at some point, eventually, he started to uncurl his toes, pushing my face away with his foot before mercifully bringing them both back down onto the footrest.

"Alright, that's enough," he said, smiling. "You've done a decent enough job. I suppose we're even now." He covered his beak, as if to stifle a laugh, and reached over to pat me on the head.

At that, I gasped and panted, feeling as if I had just come up for air after being underwater. Had he not said anything, I may have kept going indefinitely. My hands sat on either side of the footrest cushion. Looking up at him dazed, I nodded in acknowledgement. Slowly, I stood up, knees shaking, using the cushion to support myself.

"Aw, you're a good sport," he chirped cutely. He tossed a bottle of water to me. I awkwardly caught it. "A quick study, too. You may have just found a career!"