Foundry Stardate: 71699.02
It’s been approximately two months – 150 stardates, by Foundry standards – since the Earth’s destruction took place.
The Intergalactic Foundry still hasn’t released the exact reason as to why the planet had been destroyed, nor what caused it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a hand in it.
Don’t know if it’s really a good idea to be entering this into a Foundry spacecraft’s database, but Jonesy’s tests on this ship showed there’s only one comm channel to them. Information can be uploaded to the ship without difficulty, and as long as I keep the file size manageable, I can upload what I want to an outgoing server. Most of the ship’s information, though, doesn’t touch that comm channel on its own. By that logic, my logs are out of their reach, long as they don’t physically board the ship. Makes me wonder the purpose of keeping logs in the first place if I’m the only person I’d ever want laying eyes on them...
Current status: floating over some random planet on the outskirts of the Milky Way. “Scouting mission” was a success, I guess. The Foundry is still on my ass about taking the ship, and blackmailing me to take on these errands under the radar. Still, most planet visits I’ve made have been... eventful, so I’m not complaining. Much.
Seeing as I’m the lone member of this ship, they’ve got me scouting the more remote planets, most just outside of the Foundry’s jurisdiction, and since I’m fulfilling missions faithfully enough, I can get away with doing this with next to no supervision. Their eyes aren’t on me 24/7 anymore, which is a damn relief. It means I can finally get some time to give myself a hand for a job well done!
- - - - - - -
The space skiff hovered in the orbit of the green planet below. It fell within a particular class of spacecraft: while capable of the same beyond-lightspeed travel of much larger ships, it was downsized to host significantly smaller crews dedicated to scouting missions. Beyond-lightspeed technology was hardly costly for the Foundry to mass-produce, so the vessel was cost-efficient on many counts, especially in the event of failed missions. This ship may be the most efficient of all, hosting a sole crew member.
The low droning of the ship’s support systems drowned out the gentle squelching and slapping in his lap, as Davis Tyrres jacked his hand along the length of his cock. His jeans and purple jockstrap were wrapped around his ankles, leaving his bottom half exposed to the surrounding windows and endless space before him. The skiff’s computers were bereft of any pornography, leaving the man only to his memory and imagination to sate him. And sate him, they did, as his climax approached.
“Fuck...!” He cursed under his breath. He shut his eyes tight, ready to ride the wave of ecstasy awaiting him on the other side. “One week’s worth of waiting, and...!”
[INCOMING TRANSMISSION! MAIN SCREEN TURNED ON!]
He nearly missed the alert in his masturbatory stupor. His eyes shot back open to find the sobering sight of his “superior” staring him down.
“Tyrres! Enjoying ourselves on our time off, I see.”
Davis nearly stumbled out of the chair he sat within. He cursed much louder than before, now in shock and surprise. He made a vain effort to conceal his crotch from the screen in front of him. “The FUCK are you doing!?” Davis shot an accusatory finger at the green-skinned officer. “Gimme a warning! Don’t just force-open my comm channel! I nearly ripped my dick off!
The remark brought a smirk to their face. “Nearly? Well, we can’t settle for that, can we?” They adjusted the rank insignia on their chest: four stars, much like an Earth admiral would wear. “The Foundry’s charged me with improving and innovating across the galaxies; surely I can’t settle for nearly improving on the human form~!”
“Get fucked, you fishy prick...!”
The admiral scoffs. “Seems fitting that would be your response, Tyrres, as I was calling in regards to the report you just sent, regarding possible intelligent life at your current coordinates.” They flicked through another screen as they spoke. “A positive test is less than surprising – one well shy of space travel yet, but positive all the same – and I would like to commend you on a job well done on that, but what I wanted to discuss was the reason as to why you spent longer than anticipated on-planet.” They continued, not a break between thoughts. “No injury claims were included on the report and I can see now that none were necessary... Which leads me to assume you’ve decided to copulate with yet another specimen in the middle of your scouting mission!
“Does your libido have no limits, Tyrres? Or am I to assume all the other humans I’ve worked with were exceptional cases, when they managed to refrain from such vulgar acts!? Do you not understand the weight of your actions!? Whether or not you wear the Intergalactic Foundry’s uniform, you are still required...” The admiral’s tirade continued, but loud as they shouted, Davis couldn’t help but feel the words melt together in a soup of Foundry rhetoric. Universal superpower this, galactic history lessons that, political influence across thousands of solar systems... Every word from the admiral’s mouth could just as easily come from a textbook. “... At this point I might almost prefer you continue your masturbatory acts, if it would keep your pants on--”
“Okay, I get it,” Davis interjected, “Please, shut up. You don’t have to explain basic galactic politics to me; I didn’t go to college for nothing. Besides, you’re overestimating the impact of a near- dead species.” He stands himself up in his chair. “I doubt you’re calling me just to go off on a rant, so can we cut to the chase and tell me what you want me to do already?”
The admiral rolls their eyes. “I was just starting to enoy it...” A new screen pops up to the side, more visible on the comm screen. A star map, with a ship and its route drawn to a celestial body. Almost certainly Davis’s ship. “We picked up signals at a star system near you: carbon-based life. I’ve sent the coordinates to your ship’s computer. Scan the planet’s major landmasses for intelligent life, and report back.”
They reach to something beyond the screen’s view, before looking back at Davis. A sneer stretches across their face. “And perhaps it’s redundant to make the point, but please... Do try your best to keep your pants on while you take part in this mission!”
Cucked and chastised for too long, Davis snaps. He thrusts his now-flaccid dick at the monitor, gesturing obscenely to his lap. “Suck it! I know what I’m fucking doing, so piss off already!”
The profanity fails to break the admiral’s posture. They simply sigh. “You should be thankful for your unique circumstances. Were I able to, I could arrest you for such disrespect. Do what you wish until your arrive. Donvarrus, logging off.” With that sign-off the invasive call finally closes, leaving Davis in the company of the vast cosmos once again. The ship whirrs and revvs almost on its own, and soon even the cosmos seem to speed away from him. He slumps in the pilot’s chair.
“Goddamn chatterbox...” He mutters and mocks. “’Do what you wish...?’ I’d love to, but someone killed my boner... Now what am I gonna do?” He peers out the window as the stars seem to speed past him. The trip wouldn’t be long, and trying to jerk off during beyond-lightspeed travel always left him too uneasy to cum. He was left with no choice but to pull his pants back up, as the ship sped to its destination.
- - - - - - -
The Foundry’s records dubbed the planet “STUDY-V20-5-14-20-1,” a name divinated from a set of queries Davis had no interest in exploring. The atmosphere seemed a dismal, stale green-grey from the ship, but they seemed more saturated from the ground. The plant life was shockingly colorful in contrast: grass tinted a blue more reminiscent of Earth’s old skies, and plants with tremendous leaves in a variety of saturated oranges, purples, lime-greens... Many of those plants bore fruit of the same sky blue as the grass they fell upon. Foreign as it was to an Earthling like Davis, he certainly didn’t question there was life here.
The pale soil crackled beneath his brown boots as he moved. The gentle breeze found its way through the copper strands of hair on his head, billowing beneath his light cream jacket. Emerald eyes flicking along the horizon and landscape, Davis paused as a burgundy blur flits by his vision. It lands on a nearby tree – he could only think of calling it that, given its size – ten legs sticking tight to the leaves. He didn’t spend long observing the insect, before strutting past. “Animal life present on-planet...” He grimaced. “Definitely too small to be intelligent life... Big enough to be creepy...”
Davis’s trek through the planet’s forests yielded little more of note; a new species of animal would crop up every so often, but there was always a clear hint to their limited cognition, expressed in violent gnashing of teeth and scurrying at breakneck speeds to the man’s ankles. Eventually, the sky began to turn dark, painted with a new flickering star with each passing moment, and Davis recognized he’d have to start his search again from a new locale. A return to the ship was in order. Donvarrus could care less about how long the mission lasted, as long as he was kept up to date on its progress, and so an extension had to be properly reported.
The leaves rustled. Davis jerked his head to the sound. One of the trees had a branch broken and felled – if he could call what held the singular heavy leaf a branch. He squinted. Nothing he had seen yet was nearly large enough to move the leaves of these alien trees considerably, and certainly not with that much force. He peered around the flora. Something shifted around in the darkness, shambling out of the canopy. It was certainly larger than any other animal on the planet’s surface yet... But Davis’s inexperience in biology betrayed him. He couldn’t perceive its movements as feral or domestic. What little of its shape he could make out confirmed even less. If something that big saw him as a threat for even a moment, he might not make it back to the ship at all...
But if it was any smarter than a monkey, that’s one less conversation with Donvarrus.
A trail of twisting and circling marks in the ground would be Davis’s guide. The creature’s trail led out of the forest he first landed in, climbing to a rocky incline. The encroaching darkness made the footpath difficult to follow, but the spacefarer kept on the trail. His feet were already sore from the earlier survey, and the climb was no kinder to him. His trek led higher and higher, until he met with the mouth of a cavern carved into the side of the cliff. He scanned the ground beneath him: the same shambling trail led inside. For a moment, he could swear he saw the trail glisten, lined with some kind of fluid.
The cavern was pitch, a void of complete darkness. Davis produced an orb from his pocket, shaking and striking it a few times before it finally erupted in light. He couldn’t help but wince from the flash, and staggered in a daze for a moment. He tossed it above his head, letting it float behind him as his journey into the depths continued. His eyes continued to adjust after flashbanging himself, but the orb’s illumination made the cave much easier to navigate. The passage slipped deep into the cliff side, but eventually Davis came to a corner, and an eerie slithering sound echoed from beyond his sight.
Common sense finally overtook Davis’s obstinance, as his shaking hand reached for one of his plasma pistols. Whether it could sense his movements or finally noticed the approaching light, his quarry began to hiss louder than before; more guttural; more violent. It was becoming harder and harder to assure himself avoiding Donvarrus was worth this. Each step toward that dark corner felt heavier than the last...
Until the unknown lost its patience and turned the corner for him.
It was on top of him faster than his trigger finger could hope to move. He was flattened onto the cave floor, pinned under its weight. His arms outstretched, he was left defenceless before the creature, but at last its form gave way to the light. Tendrils of a mixture of greys and greens and blue stretched past Davis’s head and over his abdomen, but nowhere in the moistened mass could he spy anything resembling a skull. He could still hear its hissing, calmed as now was, reverberating from its center. Was it some sort of tentacled land jellyfish...?
As Davis ruminated the specimen further, he realized he was still alive and unmauled. Whatever it sought to do, it was hesitating. Observing. Judging. Its reservation told the spacefarer enough, as he began to open his mouth. “H-Hi...? I-I uh, I come in peace...?”
It didn’t release him. His feeble greeting caused the mass to shift, but it did not retreat from him. Intelligent or not, he couldn’t expect it to immediately understand him, after all... But he had made his judgement, and that meant his actual mission would be complete. All he had to do was survive this encounter. He peered over the alien, looking for a pair of eyes to look at, or anything resembling a target of ‘conversation.’ All he could find were the tendrils grasping his body, leaving him outstretched before it, and the center of mass, where a dark and dripping hole of some kind resided.
Davis’s libido spoke for him, as his jeans began to tent toward that hole. Panic took him for just a moment, before he looked again at the beast. It must’ve taken note of his boner, as it began to shift its focus. He couldn’t help but smirk. He pulled one of his hands gently, slowly, out of the alien’s grip. Whether it allowed him to escape or simply split its attention too far, his wrist slipped free, and he snuck his hand down, past his fallen pistol and to the buttons fastening the denim prison his cock laid within.
The one-handed act was clumsy, but the button yielded to him eventually. The zipper was only so much easier to disengage. The creature ‘stared’ patiently, watching its gift unwrap step-by-step. Davis, meanwhile, imagined the reward awaiting him, the feeling of this curious alien’s tentacles groping over more of his body, the warmth of its hole engulfing his member, and the release he was so rudely denied before. Impatience guided his hand under both his jeans and his jockstrap’s waistband. Fingers caressing his own thighs, turning him on all the more, he pulls his bottomwear away, his aching erection bouncing out to meet his new friend.
The alien jolted to attention as Davis’s cock shot out from its hiding place, but its observation continued in earnest. It snuck a tendril between his legs, caressing his balls and slithering along his length. Something viscous coated the appendage, sending a chill up the spacefarer’s spine. He tried thrusting himself against it, but the same tendril pushed down on his crotch. He pouted, but seeing it wrap back around his dick left little room to complain. He sat patiently, feeling it coil against him; he could only hope it had the knowledge to start jerking him off.
Something solid and slimy started to press against his puckered asshole, and Davis realized this alien may know a bit more than how to handle his rod. He relaxed, doing his best to invite the entering tentacle, but as it sought to sink into him, he could feel it stretch him further and further than he expected. What started as moans of pleasure shifted more to pain with each inch invading his colon. He did his best to relax against it, but his new experimental buddy couldn’t help but push his hole’s limits.
“Fuck...! That’s enough, damnit...!” He cursed under his breath. It wouldn’t matter if it could hear him; he’s certain the alien wouldn’t know to stop. It proved his point swiftly enough, as it kept pushing against his inner walls. Knowing he was in this ride for the long haul, Davis chose instead to ride what pleasure it offered him, and tried to slip his free hand under his shirt.
A tendril took his wrist once more, but it didn’t pin him down this time. All of his limbs claimed by one of its numerous appendages, the ground left his back. The open air of the cavern crawled along his skin as he hung in the air, limbs held ajar by the strong, slick tentacles. Adrenaline shot through him, feeling himself hoisted off the ground, and his excitement took him. He couldn’t help but giggle, even as his hole ached from the continued invasion. His erect cock leaked pre from the mixture of stimuli.
The alien’s tendril continued its voyage through his body as far as it could, but from what Davis could feel, its venture wouldn’t last much longer at all. Eventually, he could actually feel it retreat, sneaking back and focusing on a new goal. But that movement was felt the most on his prostate, the soft friction of the girthy tentacle coaxing more and more pleasure out of him. After his earlier unintended edging session, it didn’t take much more teasing for Davis to pass his breaking point.
The tendril on his cock didn’t have to move an inch before his cum boiled out of his balls and surged out like a fountain. The spacefarer howled, embracing his long-awaited release, coating the alien before him with a stream of his alabaster spunk. The creature paused, but the tentacle in his ass was still pressed firmly on his p-spot, keeping the pressure inside him built up, even as his liquid desire spewed from his dick head. Was it confused, after all its teasing? Did it simply expect him to last longer, or did it not know what torturous pleasure it brought him?
The last drops of semen drooled from his softening dick. Davis looked at his partner. The addition of white to the alien’s colour palette wasn’t as appealing as he had hoped, more as if he had cum over a mossy rock, or a rotting tree branch. The strength holding him in the air sunk to the ground, the tentacles choosing to gently support gravity rather than defy it. Finding himself belly-up on the ground again, the skyfarer watched as the hole he first spotted began to descend over his flaccid dick, doing its best to swallow the source of his energy into itself.
- - - - - - -
Davis awoke a shivering mess, head swimming. The ache in his ass was louder than his own thoughts, and his groin felt almost numb. His heart pounded, as he did all he could to sit himself up. His arms barely obeyed him. His jeans and jockstrap still sat around his ankles, and his cock still sat in his lap, but his bare thighs were paler than the drops of semen dotting his lap. Standing felt like a herculean task; his muscles had turned to jelly. What even happened to him...?
“Finally awake, are we, Tyrres...?”
Fuck... Even in this groggy, disheveled state, Davis knew that voice well.
“Wh—” he stuttered, as even his jaw seemed to disobey him, “Why th-the fuck are y-you here, Donvarres...!?” Where was here, anyway...? The memories were fuzzy, but he began to recall his daring journey into the cave, and his... glorious release...
“Your report was late,” they explained, “and now that I’m here, I can see the reason is, frankly, unsurprising.” The admiral could only scowl at him. “'Keep your pants on...' Is it truly so hard to follow my orders? Or is disobeying them just part of the thrill?”
He didn’t have the wherewithal to counter the statement. Not with his usual wit, at least. “I-It pulled my p-pants down i-itself...”
“Somehow, I doubt that...” Donvarres stood over Davis, glancing over him. “The resident you found – first of all, it was intelligent enough, so thank you for at least keeping on task – but it emits a distinctly visible oil along all of its appendages, leaving a paper trail along your entire lower half – with the distinct exception of your bottomwear.” They glanced over a tablet, the light of the screen faintly reflecting off their eyes. “That oil also holds a neurotoxin, which – in large enough doses – can mimic the effects of drug addiction on a species. It takes quite a bit to absorb it through the skin, but ingested from other locations...” They looked between his legs.
He scowled, teeth still chattering. “A-are you done!? I-I’d like to get b-back to my ship and f-fucking fix this!”
Hearing that, Donvarres couldn’t help but scoff. “So eager to shake off the consequences of your own actions, are you?” They tap against their tablet. “Then good news: the effects will probably wear off pretty quickly, as long as you hydrate appropriately – something I’m sure you’ll need to do soon, either way.” The words felt like a kick to Davis’s nuts, or perhaps they only brought awareness to their aching. He couldn’t help but cup his groin in pain, rocking against the floor.
“F-fuck off...”
They sighed. Davis met their eyes, seeing little more than pity behind them. “Can I trust you’ll at least be more cautious on your next venture? Or do I have to supervise you on your next planet as well...?”
He refused to reply. He looked away, hoping the admiral would eventually get tired of his pathetic stature and leave him to his own devices again.
Sooner or later, they would leave him. Alone.
- - - - - - -
“Still working on that pet project?”
“Of course; not every day you get a hold of a mostly-functional Foundry ship just lying around!”
“You’re not worried they’ll track it down?”
“What, with Foundry tech? Their comms and computer tech is shit! It’s a miracle these assholes even got to beyond-lightspeed travel! We’ll be fine!”
“Heh, seriously? You’re a one-of-a-kind rogue, Jonesy~ Never heard someone act so carefree around Foundry tech~!”
“How about I show you the interior, then~? No one’s getting close to this ship but us, Davie~”
“Haha, you fuckin’ jackass! C’mere~!”
Foundry Stardate: 71712.38
You “fuck up” one “mission”, and suddenly your “boss” won’t leave you alone...
I don’t know how much louder I can scream at them that I don’t feel any of those withdrawal symptoms anymore. It’s probably not helping my case that my throat gets so parched doing it, though... But they’re so insistent I stay on this tiny fucking ship until THEY say I’m clear to perform my mission! It wouldn’t be half as bad if they just stopped checking in every--
[INCOMING TRANSMISSION! MAIN SCREEN TURNED ON!]
You gotta be fucking...!
- - - - - - -
“Tyrres, I want a status report.” The recording stops a moment before Admiral Donvarrus’ visage covers the ship’s UI.
“On what!?” Davis’s voice cracks. His face burns red as his hair. “As you can see, the comms system is still fully operational, so at the very least, you can quit checking that every half-hour! Ship’s engines? Hard to say! They haven’t had a reason to start up since I got in orbit of this planet half a week ago!” The horizon of the blue sphere swallowed the pitch black sea of stars along the bottom of the skiff’s view port. “And the planet? Well, believe it or not, in the time it took for you to force open my comms again, not only did intelligent life sprout from the seas, it figured out interstellar travel and is sending out its first FTL spacecraft as we speak!”
Donvarrus shut their eyes, brow furrowed, jaw clenching. A deep breath, as their face strains to soften. A sharp exhale. Their eyes point dutifully to the screen, but the half-closed eyelids betray a resignation as they force the question: “Is that true?”
“Of fucking course not!” In the corner of his mind, he could see the formality behind the admiral’s query, but as if he gave a shit if these constant status reports were testing both their patience.
A pair of fingers massaged their forehead. “i want a status report on you, Tyrres.”
“Dead.” A word spoken so dryly, Davis had to reach for the canteen at his feet. “Gotta be, right? Because being stuck in this ship 24/7 with you cutting in as often as possible just to get another status report –” Davis raised his voice, “– for a literal fugitive you’re tasking with illegal interstellar work – well, I can’t think of a more vivid image of hell at this point.”
The rest of the admiral’s hand crests over their brow. “If only I could just record you as dead, and call it a day...” They grumbled, as a screen pops open on their right, scrolling over it. They only stay silent a moment before they look over their shoulder. “I’d like a confirmation: is it medically plausible to say the symptoms of Canician Fever would pass safely in under 20 stardates?”
Davis focused more on the illness mentioned, his thoughts and growing fury drowning out the medical officer’s affirmation on the other side. “Canician Fever!? Mammalian life can’t develop that shit; what the fuck is on that form!? Are you trying to cover me up as a completely different species or some shit!?”
Donvarrus side-eyes the screen. “What I happen to be doing presently is updating the status of a recent addition to my crew, who happened to perform a mission quite recently that left them with a frustratingly contagious illness – one that fortunately affects their race significantly less, but would compromise the remaining crew or any planets they may visit, necessitating they self-medicate isolated on a skiff out of range of their peers, and offer appropriate reports as time goes on.” They scroll through the report further. “I’ve halfway considered having my chief medical officer cover the reports – as I fear I’m beginning to observe a decline in cognitive reasoning in the crew member...”
“Oh, good,” Davis jeered, sinking into his captain’s chair, “A thinly veiled insult to my intelligence. We really don’t get enough of those in our little chats~!”
“Regardless,” they said, brushing aside the sarcastic jab, “the virus appears to have run its course through their system, and I can safely clear a new mission for them.”
Davis sighed in relief – though, loud and exasperated as it was, it was nearly an orgasmic moaning. “I never thought I’d be so glad to do unpaid labour!”
Donvarrus scoffed. “Don’t think of it as being unpaid; I believe loans are a common concept between our cultures? You’re paying off your debt to the Foundry.”
Davis’s mood soured instantly. He slouches deeper in his chair. “Can’t you just have no sense of humour? Your jokes feel like being stabbed with a rusty knife...”
They roll their eyes. “While I briefed you on the mission earlier, perhaps you’d benefit from a refresher...”
Davis was quick to interrupt, his voice a monotone as he recites the briefing from memory: “Check the planet for intelligent life. Because the planet’s surface is over 90% water, the priority landing point has been selected as a coastal area, and due to shitty underwater gear, the maximum depth to travel on this initial visit is approximately 20 meters below sea level.”
The admiral rose their brow. Just for a moment, it seemed as if Davis impressed them – though, for basic memory to impress them means their expectations for him have just fallen so low. “As you were, then... Given you were recently ‘quarantined’, you are allowed a grace period of three stardates before commencing the mission--”
“Hell no,” he cut them off. “I spend enough time cramped up in here without you shutting off my transporter; I need to stretch my legs now.” His patience tested to its limits, he strides to the skiff’s closet, no interest in letting the admiral close the channel first.
They made their distaste for his hastiness clear. “Will you at least wait until you’re dismissed before ripping your pants off, Tyrres!?”
- - - - - - -
The salt permeated the warm air, waves of turquoise ocean breaking along the sandy beaches. A gust twisted around Davis’s body, not strong enough to push him over, but still more forceful than what he could call a gentle breeze. Plant life on the surface was scarce, but it found its way to survive, feasting on the star’s unabated rays. The spacefarer sighs. He truly couldn’t spend a single extra moment on that stuffy skiff, with this gorgeous planet waiting so patiently for him.
Davis flops into the sand back-first, arms stretched out. The sand cushioned the blow, soft as silk. He could feel the grains shift underneath him, as if nothing stood between the beach and his skin. Even the lowest quality underwater gear in the Foundry lined and caressed his every curve so cleanly – a fact he had to admire for just a moment before transporting down, when his toned back side snuck into the mirror’s view. He might as well not have been wearing anything at all! To be so paradoxically exposed to the planet around him, rays of starlight coating him in warmth... There was something so euphoric, so healing about this moment; thoughts of his mission were leagues beneath the waves.
He beamed, returning a smile to the sun above. “They have got to give me more missions on beach planets like this.”
But his mind couldn’t help but wander. He thought of the suit he wore: he had wanted to experiment with wearing suits like this once or twice. This was a decent consolation, at least. He thought of windy days; his favourite ones were in the fall, though. Watching the leaves dance around a cool breeze, hands warmed with a fresh coffee. He thought of beach trips back on Earth: there was the odd vacation he spent with friends or family, taking time off from college to soak up some rays, to eye up a few cute dudes with Jonesy. That asshole was enough of a flirt to actually ask out some of them, despite Davis’s protests... But now...?
Davis’s scowl stretched at his cheeks. How was he meant to enjoy this beautiful planet if his own brain was getting in the way? He stood himself back up, scanning along the horizon. The wind was all that moved along the short succulents and grasses on the surface. The surface of the water showed little life of its own, too; if there was animate life on this planet, none of it found purchase on the land or in the air yet. His bias showed in his judgement: how could there be sentient life on this planet if none of it has even left the see yet? What point would there be in scouring the shallows of these seas, if he’d only be meeting this planet’s intellectual equivalent of a goldfish?
He recalled his last mission. On one hand, his fervor to create a satisfying report put him in the shitty position he was in for nearly a week – and he was still debating what was the worst part of that whole farce. The physical ailment was bad enough, being confined to his ship for so long was worse – if only because he was afforded no real privacy – but even now, the humiliation of Donvarrus attending to him in person left Davis cringing. Isn’t that amphibious bastard an admiral? Why are they so obsessed with him, when they should have so much more on their plate to handle than a half-dead twunk from a freshly killed planet!?
That very thought brought back the reasoning he used to justify chasing down that creature: one less conversation with that asshole... It took a lot of work to get Donvarrus off his ass before, after all. He stands up, and brings his goggles down over his eyes, and steps to the ocean.
Wading through the low tide, green waves breaking against his toned shins, Davis pulls his breathing apparatus over his mouth. It sat uncomfortably against his face, likely sized for someone a touch smaller than him – something he’d find more unusual if it was Earth-made. There weren’t that many adult men – not too many women either – that were shorter than him. Hell, Jonesy was more than a head taller than him, which paradoxically frustrated and delighted both men. But the Foundry was made up of plenty of people from plenty of planets, and so many of them dwarfed standing next to even Davis’s modest height. It didn’t ease any insecurities then, though, and it didn’t make the mask fit any better on his face now.
The water creeps up his thighs, tickling up to his package, pouched neatly in the wetsuit. This would be deep enough, he wagered, and bent his knees. One deep breath – perhaps out of habit, or perhaps out of distrust for his mask – and he springs out to the horizon. His outstretched hands carve a path through the surface of the water as his body rockets forward. The world around him is greens and blues painted so much darker than the beach above, the breeze whistling in his ears moments ago unable to follow him even into the shallow waters that sang a single, muted, bassy note. He breathes out, and the mask filter gurgles and bubbles. A test breath in, and his lungs find oxygen, cleanly filtered from the water around him. All that’s left is to continue forward.
Davis had made a point to swim regularly back on Earth. He owed quite a bit of his muscle tone to the time he spent at the rec centre’s pool; he chose a good swim on days when he didn’t feel like jogging on the treadmill for cardio, or lifting weights for strength – and those days were many. Two months away from the water simply wasn’t enough to corrode those skills. His arms are still the same oars that could row him back and forth along an Olympic-sized pool, his legs the motor that give him speed and purpose. In this moment, he was focused. He was occupied, physically and mentally, swimming faster than his memories could keep up. He was home.
Two months away from the water may not have stolen away his strength, but his stamina was another story. How many laps could he do on Earth? And how long would that be all stretched out? Whatever the measure, he wagered he could swim maybe two or three kilometers at his current pace before his muscles screamed at him to stop, but he could feel the tension grow in his arms before he reached a full kilometer. For all his other missions, Davis trod through plains and forests, even hiking through rocky hills and crags, and through all of them, he managed to maintain his energies for nearly a full day. But of course – terrain aside – such ventures only asked him to fight against the air, not against water. Today, he wouldn’t travel quite as far.
Just as he angled his body to break back above the surface, something catches his eye below. Davis flinches, turning his head back down to the waters below. Something dark swam beneath him. Something red... Something quick; faster than he was, certainly.
Something big.
The front of it turned to him. From afar, it was hard to make out, but its fins were sharp, as was its snout. Peculiarly, it had two sets of limbs, similar to a humanoid shape, but they didn’t seem to end the same way – at least, its legs didn’t. Even from afar, the spacefarer could see they were more akin to a tail fin split in two. In spite of that oddity, the creature’s shape was evocative of a dangerous apex predator of Earth’s oceans: a shark.
What little Davis knew of sea creature biology, he did know this much: there’s not a lot of fish so big that just sit and stare at unfamiliar creatures in their territory. The behaviour was abnormal for aquatic life, no doubt, but more importantly, it betrayed a curiosity. To his surprise, he had run across intelligent life under the sea after all.
But the open waters left no room for old strategies. Davis couldn’t hope to hide from this alien, should it still choose violence. It saw him, and it’s likely more suited to cutting swiftly through the waters, so there would hardly be anywhere to run. Emergency transport was his only escape from the situation, but it was too soon to say the being before him was truly intelligent – and if it was, it would keep Donvarrus out of his hair sooner if he made sure to see exactly how intelligent it was. He couldn’t communicate with sound well underwater, not to mention the inevitable language barrier...
Body language it is, Davis reasons.
His moves were sluggish, naturally, having to push against the salty seas surrounding him, but his hand raised, and he waved it best as he could. The creature beneath him perks up, clearly intrigued. Shockingly, it mimicks his gesture. Odd enough to see one of its fins fold upward, a clawed arm extending from its side, but to see it wave in the water just as he did... Could it be capable of further communication?
Davis chose to investigate further, but to do so means closing the gap between both parties. He angles himself back down, arms pulling his body deeper into the water. The shark-like being stayed put, just for a moment longer. Perhaps impatience or curiosity beckoned it up, but when it did, it shot through the water like a bullet. The spacefarer did all he could to stop his approach, as his conversation partner bolts to him.
Paused in front of one another, it was much easier to examine the finned alien. Its skin was scaled as Davis expected, but those scales were bright red closer to the surface. Its eyes had the same angling Earth sharks might have had, and it seemed to share so much more in common with each new observation made. Not just with sharks, but with a bizarrely human physique; the arms folded out and its two tail fins kicking as it did, its shape seemed reminiscent of an adult man with a mascot shark head at a sporting event. Even as he scanned over the creature, it looked over him. Wonder-filled eyes peering over his suited physique, swimming and darting around him to catch every angle.
Whatever it saw of Davis, it clearly enjoyed. His own gaze scans low, and he finds another commonality with sharks. He vaguely recalled male sharks on Earth had reproductive organs called claspers – plural being the note he hung onto. The shape of the two extremities this alien possessed were just a touch more like a human phallus. He looks back up, meeting its eyes.
Nearly a week of being pent up, to be released into this gorgeous planet, having a shark man hard at the sight of him in a wetsuit... It was easy for Davis to excuse his own boner, especially given he had far more absurd choices in partners on other planets before this.
Much as he enjoyed how his suit gripped his body, and even how it hugged his growing cock, he had to acknowledge its one flaw: it’s a one-piece, cover-all suit, meaning it stood starkly in the way of him getting fucked. He pulled at the zipper, tugging it down his chest each inch, as his mate watched. Emotions were hard to read on the fishy face, but its awe was apparent in its stance. Given its environment, the concept of clothes is likely foreign to it, so its first assumption might be that he’s removing a layer of his skin. It was certainly a morbid thought to consider – and one that killed the mood, more importantly... But his shark partner seemed less concerned, once the wet suit slipped past his waist, letting his hard dick slice through the water on its way out of its confines.
He didn’t pull his suit all the way off, though. He was hungry. He turns himself around, bringing his behind to the twin pillars. One way or another, he would sate himself on this alien, and it seemed happy to sate its own urges on him. Its dicks run along his crack, parting his cheeks as the two worked their bodies against one another. There was a subtle grip that made Davis’s movements a bit harder than he expected; he vaguely recalled sharkskin being rough, capable of tearing into the flesh of anything that rubbed on it too close. Hopefully, his partner’s chitinous exterior won’t be so violent as its Earthen counterpart, because he had no interest in stopping now, though he was mindful of how close he rubbed against it.
The pressure built against his hole as one of its cocks pressed harder. Saltwater might not be a particularly great lubricant, but it served well enough to open Davis’s hole. Inch after inch intruding into him, as its twin dug against his asscheek. He wasn’t sure if he could take both, but damned if he wasn’t going to try. He retreats, just enough that his hole is almost completely vacated. He reaches his hand to hold the exposed cock, doing all he can to loosen his anus and accept it inside him. Pushing back, as much as he could, but damn, did it hurt trying to fit both inside! It was clear he hadn’t stretched himself out nearly enough for this. He wasn’t sure his breathing mask could keep up with his laboured breathing as he coped.
The pain in his ass only escalated, as his fishy mate lost patience and pushed its way deeper. He felt as if he would tear in two. It hurt, did it ever fucking hurt! But just knowing he was taking both of those fishsticks made his own stick harder. No longer needing to shepherd his partner inside, Davis brings his hand back around to his own cock, doing his best to stroke it. Its own claws gently held his sides, keeping him steady as it rut within him. It seemed to struggle less with humping underwater. Perhaps if its hands were more like his own, it could jerk itself off better than he was doing right now, too. The most water resistance he ever had to deal with while masturbating was from a shower head... He felt like he was moving in slow motion underwater.
Through the pain and pleasure, a wave built within him. He couldn’t hope to delay his orgasm, and pushed his muscles hard as they could to reach that climax. But tightening on those two cocks inside him brought more pain to the mix. He did his best to keep himself together, but his breathing was becoming difficult as his ecstasy peaked. White ribbons collect in the aqua in front of him. His partner seemed to respond to the tightness, and pushed harder into him, and harder, and harder. His consciousness slips, little by little, but one hump stops deep in him. He couldn’t feel the surge of fluid pumping into him, but he had no doubt he was being filled.
He could barely keep his eyes open. This was bad... He needed his transporter, and fast. It had to be around his thighs, with most of the rest of his suit... But something shifts in the alien’s demeanour suddenly, and its twin poles slip out of him quickly. It shoves him outward, even as its cum trailed out of his reddened ass. The starfarer found his chance, and bringing all the strength he could to his arms, he swims to the surface. As he climbs higher, he spins around to see his mate scrambling back into the depths. Whatever its reason for leaving in such a hurry, it may have just saved Davis.
Orange hairs collapse over his goggles as his head breaches. He pulls down the tiny mask covering his face, and gasps for air. It may not bring all his energy back right away, but it keeps him awake. The front of his bare body starts to find the surface, as he idly floats, finding some kind of rest.
“This better be good enough to get that asshole off my case for a bit,” Davis groaned to himself.
- - - - - - -
“Jonathan Freeman?”
“Shit-- Sorry, you scared me there...! Ah--!”
“An understandable reaction, all things considered, given the origin of this ship... I take it you’re aware--”
“Yeah-- Yes, I’m aware this is Foundry tech. If you are looking to collect the ship, I am willing to co-operate with any efforts in its safe return...”
“That won’t be necessary. On the contrary, in fact: I understand you’ve looked into modifying the technology on this ship to your own needs, and I wanted to make an offer of co-operation of my own.”
“... And what do you want out of this?”
“For starters, this is not to be kept on official files; neither the Foundry nor Earth’s authorities should have any knowledge of this ship being any more than a wreckage.”
“That’ll be kind of hard, given... Sorry, continue.”
“As well, my other condition is that you keep full logs on your progress... Localized solely on this ship’s hard drive. I imagine you’ve already inserted a more substantial hard drive by now: at least a couple extra terabytes or so?”
“You want them there so you can access them yourself, when need be, I take it?”
“When the time is right. Communications on skiffs like this are... troubled, as I’m sure you’ve discovered, so the only people who could access this ship’s files had to be physically on the ship. There is tracking systems for Foundry ships to keep an eye on it from a certain range, but aside from its comms link, that’s all it has to offer. I’d actually prefer you kept it that way.”
“... Can I assume what I’m getting in return is... Not being arrested or abducted by the Foundry?”
“What you receive in return is these schematics. It’s your choice if you choose to apply them to this skiff.”
“... What are you planning with this... Admiral...?”
“Donvarrus. And, please, let’s not discuss the long-term on this just yet. With any luck, you and I shall have a fruitful partnership on this project.”