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The Skipper had sex with me today.

I keep looking at the sentence and it still looks completely

unbelievable - wholly bizarre and out of place on the page - but it

iss true. She did. The Skipper did. The Skipper did have sex with me.

It still looks unbelievable. It's only because I'm sore and that the

whole thing seems so weird it _has_ to be true that I believe it

myself right now.

The Skipper called me over the intercom, it must have been around noon

because I was busy with the paperwork (Note: I have to remember to

tell pvt. Lennart to put in more time in the gym.)

"Lieutenant appointed by unfortunate accident, I make unofficial

request for your presence on the bridge at close to present time."

I was surprised of course. Not only had I never heard what the

Skipper's translator called "acting Lieutenant, first class" before

but I didn't know what on earth she would want me on the bridge

for. If it was unofficial it couldn't be an incoming transmission from

HQ and while we're in inter-planetary transit there's not much else it

can be. So I replied, asking her to acknowledge the message and what

"close to present time" meant.

"You have understood impeccably, Lieutenant appointed by unfortunate

accident. With 'close to present time' was implied that you have the

leeway of a social call but nevertheless are expected to oblige with

all due haste as behooves the most senior leader of cargo human

soldiers."

A social call to a Beta? But a social call as the commanding officer

of the company. Had I just been commanded to pay this 'social call' or

were I meant to go when I went off duty?

When in doubt you placate the Skipper. Hell, you _always_ placate the

Skipper. Not only is it the standing order. Nobody wants a major

diplomatic crisis with an alien species we don't really understand

just because some grunt waited a minute too long or was a trifle

abrupt when responding to a Beta. Of course, with the Skippers there's

more to it. The Skippers put their skin on the line to save ours.

When a team fucks up and gets in over their head, it's the Skipper

that puts heaven and earth in motion to get them out. It's the Skipper

that will disregard direct orders from allied command and swoop down

to make a pick-up in the middle of a fire-fight. It's the Skipper that

will disregard common sense and do a bombing-run on the Alpha's

flak-protected mortars. Skippers live by their loyalty to the soldiers

they carry and they don't hesitate one moment to die for it. We

couldn't call ourselves soldiers if we didn't give some of that

loyalty back.

So I went to the bridge straight away. I only paused for a moment to

change into a clean uniform and run a comb trough my hair. I hauled

myself up through the hatch to the bridge perhaps ten minutes after

I'd gotten the Skipper's call.

She swiveled her chair around when she heard me, and like always when

I see a Beta face to face, I had to hide a smile. They always remind

me of Magpies; the fur on their head, chest, back and limbs bluish

black, and stark white on their stomach and sides, back, arms, legs and

their head. Sometimes, the metallic translator-necklaces can seem like

a silver spoon they've stolen somewhere and are fussing over.

Today the image was particularly vivid. The skipper was wearing

neither a toga nor a utility vest when I entered, and she was holding

her finger-hand on one of the control-panels at the side of the chair,

making the black veil-hair of that arm hang down like a wing. She

wasn't even wearing the blue Skipper's mammeluks, and I could see the

end of her mane splayed out on the chair between her legs. I was a

little disappointed (in a bemused way), that it didn't really look

much like the tail of a bird.

I suppose the fact that she was sitting there naked should have clued

me into what was going on, but just don't think about Betas in sexual

terms. They're aliens. Good aliens, but not human. And besides, I'd

never paid a social call on a Beta before - maybe they never wore

mammeluks off duty.

She did that double blink that means sort of the same as an amused

smile or grin, and whispered into her translator. A second later, it

started talking. "I am very much obliged that you could respond to my

call for your service so promptly. I would be closely adhered to if

you sit down in a chair next to my chair and act in a comforted

manner."

I gave a small nod, said "Certainly, Skipper." and eased myself

carefully into the co-skipper's seat. (Not that there's ever any

co-skippers aboard these ships, but the seat's still there). I smiled,

and pretended to be comfortable, although the seat is really too

narrow and tight for a human frame.

I almost fell out of the chair, when Skipper swiveled it around

without a warning towards the port view-screen. She'd swiveled herself

around too, and looked over at me . She raised her cheek-fur in a

"grin", as I gave a sheepish smile back, and sat up straight in the

seat again.

Then she bristled the fur on her cheek in a pattern I didn't

recognize, and told me "I found a recording of video media of such a

nature that I think it might hold amusing interest for this audience

of us both two."

The only place she could have found a video here, in transit, were of

course in the men's lockers. In addition to looking like a magpie, our

particular Skipper was as curious (and thieving) as one as well; and

often pawed through our personals when we were elsewhere. But, she's

the Skipper and she's a Beta, and the men keep their complaints down.

She turned on the video, and I could only blink. "Most interesting, do

you agree?" she asked, watching the video with one eye and me with the

other.

"Err, yes." I managed to reply. On the large screen in front of us, a

large-breasted woman was busy sucking a man's cock, and making a lot

of noise about it. The Skipper had put on a hard-core pornographic

movie.

The skipper made the sound of an MP5 with a silencer being fired, and

the translator turned it into a staccato, metallic

"Hah. Hah. Hah. Hah. Hah." The fur over the bridge of her snout

bristled in a gesture I'd never seen before. "I am carefully precise

in ascertaining that this is human-species playful mating-behavior

being conducted?"

"It's ... sex. Yes." I managed to stutter, still rather stunned. I was

still not realizing she was seducing me. After all, she was a

different species - a video of Betas having at it would probably

strike me as curious and fascinating too, without necessarily being

erotic.

"The human-species individual wearing the thick, yellowish veil-hair

on its head is of the child-bearing phenotype, is that a correct

assumption?"

"Yes." I replied, and cleared my throat. I was starting to get over

the shock now. "Yes, she is a female. One can tell by her breasts. The

spheres positioned on the upper front of her torso."

The camera-angle changed to a close-up of the most mechanical part of

the sex-act. Skipper bristled her cheek-fur in amusement, and said

"And as well by her not being in possession of a piston-like,

insert-able drill-bit." (The translators aren't calibrated for

anatomical studies.)

I think I blushed then, but I managed to clear my throat and answer

that, yes, that was also a way to tell that she was indeed a female.

"My opposite number." Skipper said, and turned both eyes on me. "Are

you already in possession of the awareness that I myself am of an

analogous non-grammatical gender as that female individual?"

Now I was starting to get an inkling of what was going on - but I

chided myself as being foolish and reading things into the

translator-confusion. "Yes, to a certain degree." I told her, "I've

been told that male Betas have yellowish ridges on their ridge-hand,

while females have ivory-colored ones."

She made another sound than the MP5 with silencer one, but the

translator still made it into the staccato "Hah. Hah. Hah." "Is that

which visual sign you use for non-grammatical gender-separation?" she

queried when she was through laughing, looking quite bemused.

"It's the one I know how to see." I admitted. On the screen the movie

had changed to another couple, humping away doggie-style.

"See this carefully, human-soldier." she said, the fur on her snout

bristling again, and she swiveled her chair towards me. She spread her

legs as wide as the chair allowed her and used her ridge and her

fingers to spread the fur away from her ... well, whatever Betas call

what's analogous to the vagina. "No insert-able piston-plunger here."

I don't know if I said anything, I was too shocked at this lewd

intimacy she was showing me. I did look, though - partly by reflex

and partly because she'd requested me to. It didn't look like a vagina

• it looked more like some weird, dark-brown rubber-seal. One

triangular lip below, and two smaller triangular lips above, folding

together in a slight bulge.

As I watched, the triangular lips retracted, or flattened - pulling

back from the origo to reveal a salmon-red funnel or grotto

underneath. She made some untranslated sound, and I startled to -

looking up from her privates to her face. The fur across her snout

was bristled up high, and the fur on her cheek was pulsing softly,

bristling up and down a millimeter or so. For a long moment we crossed

eyes, and I just stared, trying to read something out of the

glimmering grey eyes of hers.

She made some more sounds, and the translator started. "The details of

such a lack, or no such lack, could also additionally serve as a sign

of distinction."

I think I licked my lips, and glanced back down at her sex. She was

still holding the fur away, but the opening had closed - the

three-pronged star snugly shut. "Yes, I guess it could. But you wear

mammeluks on most occasions." I stuttered quite a bit saying that.

"In the present I am without opaque, covering items of clothing over

my bareness, and in conclusion this visual sign is available to the

human-species company I am present in. This state of affairs can not

be said to hold for you, Lieutenant appointed by unfortunate

accident. And this I strictly find to my dislike."

I had to think that through three-four times before I reached an

understanding of what she had said. "Are you asking me to take my

clothes off?" I asked, baffled and certain I must have misread the

Skipper somehow.

The fur on her nose and cheeks lay itself down tightly to her skin. "A

great terminological distance away from polite request,

human-soldier. I demand with expectation of being obeyed."

The translators they use to speak to us troops are calibrated by human

diplomats, so when the translator say "demands" you can be pretty sure

that the Beta said something a lot stronger. And, well, you always

placate the Skipper. So I took my clothes off.

I don't know if she'd turned off the movie already or not, but I can't

remember any scenes from when I stood up of the chair and started

undressing. I paused a few times, and looked over at her to see that I

really had understood her right. She was sitting with her arms on the

arm-rests, her legs still spread apart, but the star of her sex hidden

under her fur now.

She bristled the fur across her snout again, and was watching me with

that spooky disjointed stare the Betas have - each eye looking at

different places, moving independently. She didn't tell me to stop.

I wasn't embarrassed when I stood there naked, nor excited in any

way. I had been embarrassed earlier, but the whole situation now seemed

so bizarre that I was in deep alien territory. And there you keep your

mouth shut, do as you're told and try to figure it all out later. So

when she told me to walk over to her chair and stand there, I just

did.

She looked at my face with one eye, and at my genitalia with the

other. "And this unassembled piston serves as visual confirmation that

this soldier-human male is of exclusive non-grammatical gender that is

not child-bearing." The metallic voice of the translator droned, and

she brought her finger-hand up to my crotch and used her fingers to

caress my cock and scrotum.

To begin with her touch was very gentle - cool, and tickling with the

short, thick fur on the slender fingers. It wasn't erotic, not to me

at least - more like a doctor cupping your balls and telling you to

cough. Then she started tugging harder - small testing yanks. I let

out an involuntary yelp when she tugged my balls a little too rough.

She blinked twice so quickly in succession I barely registered it;

cheek-fur bristling in amusement. "An Achilles' heel, is that what I

have located through searching?" she wondered, and made another rough

tug at my balls.

I stumbled, and in reflex caught myself on her shoulder with my

hand. She startled, both eyes turning quickly up to look at my face,

her fingers freezing. For a moment she looked at me and I looked at

her, my hand resting some of my weight on her soft, black-furred

shoulder. She made a soft sound, that sounded like a squirrel

chattering, and the translator turned on. "Hmmmm... So now."

"Reflex." I excused myself, and started to take my hand away. A sharp

tug at my balls made me flinch and reconsider. "Your finger-appendage

can remain." she told me (which really amounted to an order with the

way she tugged my pouch), so I let my hand rest back against her

shoulder. Her fingers started kneading gently then, rolling my

testicles around in her palm, stroking and warming my scrotum and my

cock.

I think it was that moment of startlement when I touched her that

yanked me out of alien-land, and now her touch _was_ erotic and I

could feel myself growing hard; furry fingers stroking, tickling,

brushing and fondling. The fur on her snout bristled fully, and the

fur on her cheek started pulsing in a slow, simply rhythm.

"I am a very proficient mechanical engineer." she said, and I could

feel my mouth go dry as she teased my cock towards full erection with

that incredibly soft touch. "Repairing the sleeping piston and

bringing it back fully on-line with the systems where it can be put to

constructive use, plunging my personal hollow and tool-box."

I swallowed, and then I startled as she brought her ridge hand up

between my legs, pressing her back-edge ridge up between my buttocks,

while her fingers still teased my full-grown cock. I'm lucky those

ridges aren't as sharp as they seem - it felt like a ceramic tile

pressing against my skin, and not a knife's edge. But she pressed it

against me rather hard, and I almost had to go up on my toes.

"You like to be in control, don't you?" I asked her. It just slipped

out of me, like something I would say to a very direct woman back in a

pub on Earth. The sort of thing you say while you wait for your mind

to catch up with the situation, I guess.

She looked up at my face with one eye, and blinked twice in a grin. "I

do sustain enjoyment from leadership, yes. Yes in the most

affirmative. In the present place a bodily caress to my second

shoulder." she said, and wriggled her ridge-hand slightly from side to

side, making the ridge dig even harder in between my buttocks.

I placed my other hand on her shoulder as she'd told me to, and when

she wriggled the ridge-hand some more I did have to go up on my toes,

involuntarily forced to put weight on both her shoulders. My situation

seemed to amuse her. She gave my glans a squeeze with two furred

fingers, and seemed to be delighted by the drop of pre-cum she managed

to tease forth.

She finally eased off with the ridge, stroking the ridge-hand down my

inner thigh to my knee, before moving it behind me, pressing the

palm-ridge into the small of my back in a tight grip. She grasped

lightly around the base of my scrotum with her fingers and made a

trying tug that brought me back down on the soles of my feet.

Using the ridge-hand at my back for support, she started to climb to

her feet - still holding my balls in a secure grip. She hadn't told me

to take my hands away, so I let them lie on her shoulders as she rose;

having to take a step back in the process.

Then the next I know she was pressing her body up against me; I was

still holding onto her shoulders, on height with the top of my head or

so; and my face was pressing against the black fur just below the

translator-unit at her neck. One of her lanky legs had wrapped itself

around me, and was pressing her tighter against me. My cock was

trapped between my stomach and a furry hip. She had fortunately let go

of my balls, as her arm wasn't quite that long.

"Is this not truly a cozy pleasant sensation? You human-soldier gives

off scents of exotic illegality in the context of personal

play-behavior. These I find much exciting enjoyment from."

She felt good. Not human-good, but she was warm and soft and safe. And

my cock was almost painfully erect, and very hot against her hip. I

let one of my hands slide down along her back, brushing the side of

her mane on the way down. They have a slight bump, or ridge of some

sort, about an inch above their hips, and I let it rest there.

She made a loud, sudden sound that reminded me of the starting engine

in Uncle Lliam's John Deere. The translator turned it into "Suddenly",

which I don't think could have been translated right.

She sent the chair away, and gave me a small squeeze with the ridge

against my back. "Human-species inherent inventiveness." she said, and

gave a small double-blink "grin". "Stand without walking in any

direction along the plane of the floor." she instructed, and kneeled

down. I let her, holding my hand still so that she brushed herself

against it on the way down. I think she liked that.

She licked me. Her maw parted just slightly, and that long, slender

tongue slowly extended and wrapped itself around my glans; wiping off

the drop of pre-cum. She managed to wrap the tongue more than one full

turn around my cock, and brought her fingers up to brush against my

pubic hairs. She just tickled - touched only the hairs, not my

skin. She kept unwrapping and re-wrapping her tongue around my cock,

at a new position every time without any pattern to it.

The sensations - not to say the whole situation - was so downright

strange that I came very suddenly. One moment I was standing there,

watching her apply her tongue to my cock - I think I was even brushing

the top of her mane with my hand, and in the next moment I was

spurting.

If it took me by surprise, it took her doubly so. It hit her in the

mouth, and across her snout, and throughout the whole ejaculation and

a long moment afterwards she sat there frozen, her tongue literally

half-extended and in the process of wrapping itself around my cock,

just behind the head. The fur on her back was completely flat in shock.

Then she very slowly pulled her tongue back, and laughed - the fur on

her cheeks rippling in amusement. "You perform stratagem-ambush upon

helpless from lack of fortification-work personal I. Human

soldier-male is very adept at success."

When she had said that (even before the translator was through) she

started licking at my cock again, much in the same manner as she had

before, even if it now had gone limp. I was just standing there

speechless, watching her pulling her tongue slowly back from my cock,

flip it onto her snout to lap up some of the sperm in her fur, pulling

her tongue fully into her maw and then extending it again to wrap

around my cock once again.

She must have kept it up for several minutes, because I had managed to

start thinking again, and somehow she'd managed to groom her fur into

an almost pristine condition. It was bristling rather high over her

snout.

I cleared my throat, and tried to find my voice again. "Skipper - are

my actions cause for apologies?" Straight out of the book - the first

thing we learnt in Beta-relations was that question. The second thing

we learnt was that if we asked that, the Beta would give us a straight

yes/no answer - part of the official inter-species protocol. Skipper

ignored it..

"Remain in unwalking locked spatial circumstances." she instructed me

and stood up before me. She ruffled my hair, using her

ridge-hand. "Hunt-exciting veil-hair." she complimented (I think it

was a compliment) and walked off the bridge into her quarters.

She was gone for maybe a quarter of an hour, during which I was just

standing there, in the draft from the ventilation, fidgeting and

shifting my weight from leg to leg. I grew hard again. I don't know if

that was because I was standing in the chill wind, or because I was

thinking back on what had just happened. It was weird - my cock was

very hard, and my balls had that needy feeling, but my mind was

detached from it, in a way.

When she finally came back, she flustered the fur on her cheeks when

she saw my hard-on. "Human-species resilience would seem to have turned

efforts towards quite personal grooming-behavior null and void. I

will in close future take second multiple enjoyment use from

Lieutenant appointed by unfortunate accident's personal enthusiastic

constructed piston."

What could I say? You always placate the Skipper. "Yes Skipper."

She lined up her main ridge with a line from her eyes to the floor at

my feet. "Endure physical weight on human-species analogous shoulders

and at opposite end-point of abstract line on human-male's two feet

both." She commanded, and made that impatient gesture with her fingers

where they seem to weave together.

I lay down on the floor - I was thinking that I hadn't realized the

floor on the bridge was plastic before. She walked up to me, and

towered over me - more than seven feet tall, even taller than average

for a Beta. She looked down at me, one eye on my cock, one on my face,

and slowly raised the fur across her snout.

She swiveled her left leg over me, so she was standing with a leg on

either side of my shoulders, took a step back so she was standing just

over my crotch and knelt down. She stopped herself when the fur of her

crotch brushed against the head of my cock.

I instinctively thrust up against her at the stimulation; an action

that seemed to take her with amused surprise, and she made that

silenced MP5 laugh. "Watch carefully visually at inter-species docking

rendezvous unrelated to space-ships." she told me, and used her

fingers to pull the fur away from her sealed opening.

She adjusted herself so that her seal was just above the head of my

cock. I groaned when she sank down a little, pressing that soft,

three-pronged cover very lightly against it. It felt cool - not quite

as warm as human skin, but warmer than room-temperature, and it was

quite dry.

Then she opened up, slowly pulling the three seals back - I couldn't

see it this time, but I could certainly feel it; as her muscles were

working skin-on-skin against my glans. Before I realized it, she had

sunk down over my cock and taken it completely inside her.

The first feeling was one of warmth - as the depth of her was much

warmer than her skin - even warmer than a woman, almost unpleasantly

warm. Then one of cold, as a length of her about halfway down my cock

was quite chill - like running water behind a layer of plastic.

She bristled the fur across her snout at me, and made a ripple across

the fur of her cheeks. And she clenched. She must have been wider than

my cock when she sat down, because I hadn't noticed her

tightness. Also, her inside is entirely dry, and so it couldn't have

slipped in at all if she hadn't been wider. And now she tightened up

around my cock, strange muscles playing across the length of it in

ripples and waves.

If you can think of a human vagina as the analogue of a suction pump,

the skipper's was like one of those conveyor belts that transports the

goods by shaking and rattling. My cock was simultaneously tugged and

pulled at in several places by the muscles of her "cunt", and separate

sections of it would clench on my cock, tug and let go and then clench

again. It was all ruled by some alien, unfathomable rhythm.

She put her ridge-hand to her chest, extended the arm with her

finger-hand straight out from her shoulder, so that the long, black

veil-hair hang down like the veil it's named for. It still reminded me

of wings. And she worked on my cock with her cunt, sitting very still

• only the fur across her snout shivering a little at full bristle.

Then she made a sudden throw of her head as her cunt went into

turbo-charge on my cock for an instant. She unclenched it, and started

to rise up off it.

I must have said something, because she stopped half-way off it, made

a slow double-blink "grin" and told me "Your suggestion has been parsed

in context of a request. I comply from a position of controlled

amusement." She sank back down, enveloping me fully again and started

clenching on my cock once more.

I came very hard - but I don't think I surprised either of us this

time. She clenched hard as I spurted, double-blinking in amusement, a

soft shivering crossed the fur of her snout. Then, when I was through,

she slipped off me.

She stood up, and used both of her hands to pull away the fur from her

sex again, letting me study that rubber-sealed opening again. There

was a faint smudge of wetness at the origo of it, and one of the

prongs were glistening slightly. All the rest of my load must have

been kept safely behind that seal.

She let me gaze on it for a while, studying my messy and now rather

sorry-looking cock in return. Then she let the fur drop back to cover

her star and double-winked at me.

Later, when I had dressed again, and she'd sat back in her chair, she

pointed at me with her ridge-hand, and dismissed me from the the

bridge: "Abandon without undue haste the bridge of starship 'Nansen',

human-soldier-male. Await that I will in intermediate to close future

terms make second and multiple more firm demands of your personal

amusing services."

You always placate the skipper. "Yes Skipper." I said, stood to

attention and disbarked from the bridge.