FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

When you were the first of your species to set out into space, using the first of your species' spacefaring vessels, normally, the matter was organized, involved someone who was actually prepared for the mission, and came with plans in case of emergency.

Instead, Azazel had stolen the ship in the dead of night, bought only the essentials for establishing a safe haven off world, and was currently in an emergency - out of fuel, running low on reserve power, but, if nothing else, he bought plenty enough food.

Food wasn't too helpful without oxygen to work with though - and, in his haste to explore the universe and escape from his own planet, the Azerite was left stranded out in the vastness of infinity with no one to turn to other than himself.

He was prepared to die, so long as it was off his home planet, so, he committed himself to the waiting game - turned on the broadcaster, put his feet up upon the dashboard, and, decided to be resolute in singing away his air supply and letting the Galaxy listen to his last words, as he liked to think of it.

There had never been any signs of any other lifeforms out there in the universe - their kind had listened to the stars for centuries, and all they ever heard was silence beyond the stars. There was going to be no saviour for Azazel - the only consolation he had was that he wasn't going to die of starvation, which wasn't really much to be positive about.

It shouldn't be too hard to imagine just how badly he jumped out of his skin when a face appeared upon the communicator - not another Azerite, but some other feline that he could not recognize, speaking a tounge he could not understand, but, in tones he could halfway comprehend.

They seemed more than curious as to his situation, and, trying to make it as clear as possible, indicated that he had no fuel, and was effectively doomed - which was the kind of thing that wasn't too hard to interpret, especially between two similar species, and at that, he became aware his ship was being pulled elsewhere, the sensors built into the Azerite feat of engineering going haywire at the unidentified energy field that had formed.

The next hour was a slow process being pulled towards wherever his destination was, intermingled with attempts at communication with his fellow feline - the two of them trying to figure out how the language barrier between them could be disassembled. Beginning with simple things, like introductions, actions and objects, then, steadily becoming more complex as Azazel begun to grasp this new language, and whomever it was on the other side was making sure all of this was recorded in detail. This was an encounter with a new species, after all, and another feline one - the Azerite didn't really appreciate quite how significant that was, or at least, not until further down the line.

The other feline introduced themselves as Malcolm, of the Authorians - a predominantly female species that had been travelling the stars for millennia already, consisting largely of traders and diplomats, and serving as the founders of the Galactic Union, which had spread itself across the entirety of the known galaxy throughout their time, and now included thousands of species, rather than simply the Authorians.

Between the two of them, rudimentary conversation was established, both Azazel and Malcolm having to substitute parts of their own language for that of the other to try and word certain topics, but by the time they were done, Azazel had a rough grip over what was known as Galactic Standard English, whilst nowhere near perfect, it would be enough to survive.

Just in the nick of time too, as he had finally arrived at the space station where Malcolm was situated - staring in awe at the grand, void borne construction as it approached, although, surprised at quite how much of it appeared to be powered down, getting the impression it wasn't the most active of places, and, as it loomed closer, Azazel felt somewhat uncomfortable as the scale of it really sunk in, feeling like an ant by the time his ship had been docked within by the complex tractor beam systems.

There was a thud as Azerite silica-steel made contact with the unknown alloy that the station was constructed out of, Malcolm giving him a nod, speaking through his receiver with a proud tone. "Welcome to Galactic Outpost Yggmir-Ire-Ceta! I'll be seeing you in a few moments - our drones will unpack all of your cargo and personal belongings, don't you worry."

"What about my ship? You'll take care of it, no?" Azazel asked with a brow raised, quite concerned at being told not to worry rather than the intended effect.

"I'm afraid it's not exactly functional. We will give it proper analysis and disassembly - if we can, we will create a hybrid ship using the old parts, should you desire."

"Please. Even if I ended up stranded, she held up long enough to get me out here. I bought her out here to see the universe, and..." He didn't have the words to explain how he felt about the matter, but Malcolm seemed to understand, nodding his head once more to reassure him, before the communicator flickered and was silent once more, leaving Azazel to the silence of his ship.

Finally, the reserve batteries died, having held out just long enough to get him here, and the emergency lights too flickered out, leaving him in metallically scented darkness.

Azerites did not need light to see, but it helped. He would wander through into the airlock, his golden eyes glowing in the blackness, and place his hand upon it - and, powered it himself with a greenish surge of electricity, enough to force it into opening, and walked into the still, disinfected air of the galactic outpost, his paws meeting cold, unfamiliar metal, and, sighed with resignation.

Not long ago, he thought he was going to be dead, but instead, he was now inside a monolithic construction of none other than alien origin. He was here now, and, there was no way such a thing could have been anything other than his calling drawing him here. Whatever his purpose was, coming here was the milestone of his journey beginning, surely?

A sensation between absolute ecstatic glee and existential terror gripped him - there was no going back. There was only one direction to go from here, and that was wherever the wind took him, as it always had.

Whatever it was that he had set out into the galaxy to achieve, he was closer to it than ever, and, destiny awaited. For now, the glee would settle over his terror at the impossible nature of finding anything in particular within the vastness of the Galaxy.

He ran up the stairs connecting to the rest of the outpost in his eagerness to meet his new, alien friend, assuming from the numerous illuminated arrows and words on the metal walls that the "LOBBY" was where he was supposed to be going, whatever one of those was, most likely a meeting or communal place of some kind, and the sound of his functional, but relatively primitive metal space suit's boots clanging against the floor followed him as he went.

It was a room of most grandiose scale - easily many stories in height, countless windows lining the inside of it's circular walls, whilst one, impressive panel of space-grade glass upon the ceiling gave an insight out into the galaxy. Looking out there still terrified him to his core, the fact he was now off of the sands of his planet only made his fear of the galaxy even more prevalent.

He wouldn't have come here if he wasn't prepared to fight his fears however, and, tearing his eyes away from the infinite divine artistry of stars and distant worlds, would look around for Malcolm, realising just how quiet it was here.

For a galactic outpost, it was unnervingly quiet. He was expecting to see countless aliens of all shapes and sizes - instead, it was silent, absolutely bare of any life. Where there were tables, and chairs, and potentially even a small cafeteria, there wasn't even dust to suggest anyone had ever bothered to use any of it, or be in the room at all. Posters sat on a table, never put up, along with what Azazel assumed to be various tools for assembling things within the confines of the outpost.

"Hey! Don't know if you could tell, but, no one has been here for years. You're the first person to show up for something other than a pit stop!"

At the other side of the room was another feline - his fur a deep, navy blue, in stark contrast to the sandy red tones of Azazel's fur, dressed neatly in what was appeared a uniform neatly emblazoned with the insignia that was present around the entire outpost.

He was around the same height as Azazel, but lacked the same broadness of structure, and looked like he could be blown over by a mild wind as far as he could tell, and held an air that reminded him of the few book loving Azerites back home, only lacking the quietly hidden, burning love for a fight that all Azerites had, regardless of their calling. This Authorian before him looked like he would sooner run and hide than defend himself, although, he could be wrong.

Azazel outstretched a hand - Malcolm took it, and the two shook hands...or rather, Azazel shook his, and nearly pulled his hand off, not expecting him to be so weak by comparison.

"Jeez, hey, nice to meet you too! I'd like to keep that attached, thank you very much!" Malcolm would chuckle as Azazel seemed shocked by just how wimpy he seemed - he felt like he was made out of paper to him. He guessed that the Authorians weren't exactly anything alike a species that grew up on an unforgiving desert planet, and would keep it in mind to be gentler in future.

"Nice to meet in the flesh, Malcolm. Apology for nearly breaking your hand. Our home is...less than habitable. Part of our survival is our strength."

"Don't you worry - and it's "apologies" when you say it like that. Or "an apology". You'll get used to it real soon, don't worry. Follow me, and we'll get your species an entrance on our database, if you don't mind being the first example of an Azerite on record, of course." He said all this with such merry nonchalance that Azazel found himself reassured just by hearing him - although he got the impression that Malcolm hadn't seen another soul for a little bit too long, and was happy simply to talk to someone else.

Turning swiftly on the spot, and neatly meeting his hands behind his back, Malcolm would lead onwards with a fair pace, directing Azazel towards a room marked "PROCESSING", which he grasped implied the processing of information, rather than metals or meat.

Various scanners, biological analysers and other, never seen before pieces of technology were spread around, all of which looked incredibly advanced and also somewhat delicate, complete with a small office space in the corner with what was evidently a screen for a computer of some form, various papers and an empty cup marked "Mal'" with a marker pen, as well as what seemed to be a printing device and... something else he didn't recognize that was likely some kind of designated communication device.

"This won't take long - we used to run full biological testing through a suite of equipment, but nowadays, scanning tech is quite so advanced that we decided that a little inaccuracy was a fair price to pay for taking a fraction of the time. Just let me fiddle with a few things and..."

An elongated strip of metal upon the wall begun to shimmer brilliantly, a circle upon the floor lighting up as various screens flickered into life. As of currently, they weren't displaying much, beyond the words: "Qualities", "Culture", "Compatibility", and "Miscellaneous", the last two words being ones that Azazel was more than uncertain of.

"Aaaand... Bazoing! Stand on the circle, and, close your eyes. Might get a little bright." Malcolm would say, making a polite gesture for him to go forward, which was followed up on immediately.

Azazel shut his eyes tightly, and felt the array of various frequencies of both light and sound wash over him. Azerites were electrically sensitive creatures, and it felt rather strange to be bathing in what was technically an alien energy - beneath his skin, he could feel his nerves tingling in response, and was finding it hard not to tense and relax involuntarily as he felt himself be invaded in a most peculiar manner.

There was a resounding ding once the process was complete, the array shutting down, and giving Azazel the opportunity to see once more. Immediately, Malcolm seemed more than intrigued at the results, running over each thing as he read aloud in astonishment.

"Qualities: incredible heat tolerance, incredible electrical tolerance, plasma integration with body function, incredible strength to size ratio, impressive physical tolerances...high libido, underlying comprehension of advanced technologies, high adrenaline presence, and average overall intellect. Culture: prideful, belligerent, technologically adept, warlike... Civilised? Hang on, how does that work?" Malcolm turned to Azazel with a brow raised, wondering if something was wrong with his scanner, but was just as surprised when the response was-

"You mean your people aren't civilised about their wars? People can get killed if you aren't careful. Understanding the difference between murder and maiming can't be that hard, right?" Azazel would respond, seemingly just as confused by the question as Malcolm was at his response.

"I... We do, although if I had to guess, the line between "murder and maiming" must be a pretty thick one for your kind. I don't think we are anywhere near as hardy, to begin with." Malcolm was going to continue down the list, but Azazel was too curious to give him time, and pointed to the word outlined in red upon the screen.

"Hey, what does "com-pat-ible" mean? I'm guessing it's important?" Azazel questioned, clueless and uncertain, finding his curiosity piqued once more at the, brief, but unmissable panic in Malcolm's expression.

"It, uh, means that you work or fit with a certain kind of thing. Like a key can be "compatible" with one kind of lock." Malcolm answered, trying his best to disguise the fact that Azazel was pushing the wrong buttons here.

"Oh. So what am I compatible with?" He would ask again, plainly and innocently, his tone switching as he realised Malcolm may not be totally inclined to be truthful all of a sudden.

"That's above my pay grade." Malcolm quickly resorted to, which Azazel understood was an outright lie, but wasn't certain whether or not he should bother to press the issue. Whatever it was, it was enough to have him skip through reading the rest, and to accelerate the processing - tapping a number of words on the board of keys in front of one of the other designated screens, and shooting Azazel a smile.

"Well, I don't mean to rush you at all, but, supposedly, an Authorian Hauler is available to pick you up for work." At that, Azazel instantly seemed dubious, but he quickly turned to start selling the idea, grinning now with some strange enthusiasm. "What? You want to see the Galaxy, right? A job on a hauler...uh, helping with loading and unloading, as well as maintenance, gives you both a relatively laid back job and the excuse to go literally anywhere! You'll see more of the Galaxy in a day then you've seen in your entire life so far - mark my words, lil buddy. And if that sounds good to you, well, I can get you something to sign."

The usage of "lil buddy" was confusing considering the difference of stature was hardly appropriate, but asides from that, Azazel felt himself mostly convinced by the offer. It did sound much too good to pass up after all - and a hauler being ready to take him from here really did sound like fate lining up for him.

"Well? What's the catch!? I'll sign! Just don't expect anything tidy." Azazel grinned, the prospect of seeing the universe temporarily overtaking his wariness towards Malcolm's intent, expecting some honesty at the question of what the catch was.

Perhaps he passed it off as sarcasm, as he didn't go on to state any catch, although, with a tone that was doing it's best to try and stay convincing, he would pass Azazel a tablet with a stylus attached. It felt a little odd in his hand - Azazel was used to holographic displays, and not handheld ones - and a lot of the words on it, he didn't quite understand.

Words like "obligation" and "agreement" weren't much of an issue, although, the details to which they were referring were. He had little concept of what a "matriarch" had to do with a hauling job, and the phrase "miscellaneous favours and services" had him most dubious, until rationalizing it as anything that didn't explicitly qualify as hauler work.

He scanned through it reasonably quickly, feeling he understood enough of it to know, or at least feel, that he was in safe hands, and, signed his name in full - although, it more resembled an attempt at drawing barbed wire than a signature, practically illegible other than the fact it started with the letter "a".

He passed the tablet back over to Malcolm, who seemed oddly eager to take it, and, presumably ran some form of approval through the system so that whoever was on the other side could see that the offer had been taken. Within hardly five seconds, a response appeared, causing him to chortle and raise a brow to Azazel.

"Well, looks like someone is in demand! I'm guessing it must be the fact you're naturally built for hauling work!" Malcolm grinned with a faint, maniacal glee, seemingly more than ecstatic at the swiftness of the response. "They're on their way already! I'll get the drones to organise your belongings and, I'll send you over to the dock!"

"Wait, already? Whoa, whoa, I thought I'd at least get some time to get my bearings here first." Azazel seemed a little overwhelmed by all this - he'd hardly gotten used to being here, and suddenly he was going to be off on a hauler? He wasn't complaining, sure, but it was all happening a little swiftly for comfort.

"I know, right buddy? I was actually kinda looking forward to showing you around this abandoned dump!" He seemed to rather quickly check himself, his enthusiasm seeming to trip over itself as he set about correcting his statement: "Rather, a quiet station in the middle of nowhere, actually. It does certainly feel abandoned at times though. Anyway, anyway, I'm sure you'll have plenty enough time to get used to the hauler! If you'll just follow the signs reading "DOCK", then, you'll be right on time to meet your new... uh, boss." There was an uncanny uncertainty as he finished his statement that hinted at the interchanging of words for something more easily understood, or, easier on the ears. He pointed over to the general region of where Azazel was supposed to be going - and put on a broad, faux smile.

"What about you? You gave them the details - shouldn't you introduce us?" Azazel asked quizzically, raising a brow as his dubiousness begun to achieve new heights.

"Nope! That's all on you, buddy! I'm staying riiiiight here, introducing people ain't my job!" He would make a clicking noise as he shifted the hand pointed at the door to shoot Azazel a finger gun - who now seemed even less trusting as he went on to press:

"What is your job, anyway? You don't look like you could maintain an engine, let alone a station. You're a little too unhinged for pen work. And there's something about you that's-"

Azazel wasn't given opportunity to finish as Malcolm swiftly put a hand on his back, patting him with impact as to hint that he should really be getting a move on - turning to him with a far more genuine, sly, shark-esque grin. "Strange? I hear things like that a lot, lil buddy. My job here is way bigger than you could understand! Now get a move on - you don't wanna keep a lady waiting! Destiny awaits!" Malcolm pushed him forward with a vigour that Azazel was not expecting from his previous, apparent weakness, and he found himself, suddenly, inclined to start walking.

"Hey. See you around, lil buddy. The galaxy ain't as big as you think!" That was the last thing he heard from Malcolm as he set off towards the docking bays, and, it would certainly stick with him. Despite hardly even getting to know them, something seemed oddly significant about them, and he had the feeling that their paths would cross in the future.

There was that feeling again. Every step he took towards the docking bay was directly reminiscent of the same feeling he had been assaulted by when he first took the decision to leave his home world - the deep, primal burn within his core that surreptitiously whispered "destiny" from within. The feeling of approaching a point of no return, perhaps.

Except this time, there was no decision to not take off, there was only the option to walk forward and face whatever was to happen. Dread intermingled with the sensation for a moment, but it passed just as quickly as it came. Standing before the only illuminated door within the hall - the other bays all silent - he stepped forward so that the sensors would allow it to open, and, prepared to meet what he assumed would be his new captain, in a manner of speaking.

Given Malcolm's size, Azazel had been expecting this "lady" to have been around his height, or potentially even smaller.

He was not expecting, however, for them to have been easily twice his height, easily thrice as broad, and, above all else, laden with such a bountiful body that the already absurd difference in size between them was added to in several tons worth of curves.

Within Azerite culture, softness of the body was considered divine - soft thighs and breasts were incredibly rare, and thanks to their metabolism, putting on weight as anything other than muscle was a practical impossibility.

So, being faced with someone with thighs broader than he was, hips that were wider than he was tall, a gut alike a grand, gluttonous ocean of adipose that was almost half sat upon the thickness of her grand thighs, and packing breasts that were simply inquantifiable by any standards he had ever known - each one easily as big as himself - Azazel temporarily froze up as his mind attempted to coordinate itself before his blood ran downstairs and made a fool out of him.

All this, trapped and pressed beneath a skin tight space suit, as if it were their absolute intention to show off their bounties for the galaxy to see, was more than enough to scramble the poor Azerite's brain as he attempted to wrap his head around proportions the like of which he never even dared to dream were possible - but, trying his best to make a good first impression, he managed to snap himself out of the stupor that was threatening to take hold, presented his hand to them with a smile, looking up at his new captain with the hopes that his reddish fur would conceal the flush growing upon his features.

"Hello. My name is Azazel." He spoke somewhat plainly as he tried to disguise quite how shaken his brain had been, presenting his hand with his best attempt at a pleasant smile. "Pleased to meet you. And...you...are..?" He looked up at her face with growing nervousness, which seemed an awfully long way up from where he was - his eyes meeting a pair of grand, lavender jewels that didn't seem very impressed.

He felt her take his hand, and shook it, gently, uncertain as to whether she would be alike Malcolm in terms of strength, despite her scale, and was then promptly grabbed by the wrist and lifted off of the ground as if he were merely made out of paper.

Azazel squeaked involuntarily as he was bought up to level with the goliath of a woman - eyes going wide with a marriage of shock, awe and rapidly growing infatuation as he was now face to face with the, rather attractive, Authorian female.

He was about to come out with some witty comment or compliment, but, suddenly, the words would not come to him, his usual boldness with the ladies currently frozen over beneath her most unimpressed glare, unable to do much more than smile nervously as he hung in the air like a toy.

"That wasn't much of a handshake, short stuff! There's muscle under all this, you know!" He felt her grip tighten around his wrist as she went on to emphasize, her tone as aggressive as it were audacious and cheeky. "You can call me Kayce. Captain will do if you really, really want to. Also..." She poked at the chest of his own, mostly metal space suit, smirking somewhat. "Nice tin can, by the way. Thought it might be a little heavier, from the look of it."

"Well, this is made from our own, brilliantly tough silica-steel, ma'am! It's both lightweight and-" He suddenly fell quiet as she bought him closer, her glare hardening as the gargantuan woman would growl: "Do not call me ma'am." And she would leave it at that, leaving him to process this rather thoroughly whilst he was given no option but to meet with a most annoyed pair of eyes far bigger than his own. He could feel the warm gusts of her breath washing over his body from here, which really wasn't helping with the quickly deepening infatuation towards her size.

She dropped him without notice, letting him land back on his two paws with a clang, and, turning towards the colossal ship behind her, beckoned for him to follow, whilst Azazel was still a little shocked beyond being able to muster words for the moment.

"See this beauty right here? This is my ship - not like you couldn't have guessed. I could bore you with all the details, but, all you've gotta know is that she can cross the Galaxy, and that she's designed to make it a damn cozy ride. Oh yeah, shed loads of cargo space too, as you would expect in a hauler. Your belongings should be moved in there, and anything that seems personal should be moved to your room." Stretching as she walked along, she would look back at Azazel, who seemed to have his eyes currently locked at the height of her hips, sniggered at the fact, then continue on with a most informative, yet nonchalant tone, as if she were showing him around a museum. "Most of the actual heavy lifting is automated and done by drones or robots, so, we're only really needed for emergencies and maintenance. An extra pair of hands half as strong as me could mean the world in a bad scenario - impressive as I am, I can only reach so far, y'know?"

Azazel would nod and quietly say "mm-hm" to show his approval, trying to at least act like he was paying attention to every detail she presented him, finding himself unable to tear his eyes away from the grand expanse of her backside as she kept pace in front of him - as each step made impact on the floor, he could watch it ripple up and through her bounties, right up to the peak of each of her mounds - each of her collosal ass cheeks competing for dominance over the canyon between them. The sheer momentum of her strides and the slight swinging of her hips seemed to be more than enough to have the masses wobble and sway with the heft of her movements, achieving a sort of weighty grace reserved only for women of such stature and figure.

"So, remember, if one of the automated personnel asks who you are, what do you say?" Kayce would ask as she continued forward, assuming that he was still listening - whilst Azazel rapidly snapped back to reality, coming out with an answer as quickly as he could as to at least pretend he was paying attention. "Maintenance personnel?"

"No... Well, actually, I guess that counts, they will treat you as normal, but - you were supposed to say "here to haul", like I literally just told you. I sure hope your short term memory is better than that." She jabbed slyly, having a pretty good impression as to why he wasn't listening. She was quite used to smaller species being overwhelmed in her presence by now, in fact, she actually quite enjoyed it, a faintly lewd smile touching upon her lips for a moment, before gesturing to the flight of steps leading up to the hauler's airlock, hinting with a mild cheekiness in her tone. "Go on - youth before beauty, after all!"

"Actually, we like to say age before looks, to translate it roughly. So - ladies first?" Azazel half asked, half politely insisted as he made a graceful hand gesture for her to proceed, even going so far as to add a mock bow and a courteous smile as he did so, managing to hold it with perfect audacity as Kayce raised her brow quizzically.

A silence held in the air for a moment, possibly two, before Kayce's expression cracked, any seriousness she had defusing as a smile broke through, the goliath feline shrugging in a manner that hefted her bounties as she turned to head up the steps, again jabbing at Azazel with a faint giggle in her tone. "Well, if you say so - suppose I'll respect your traditions, being the guest and all..." Then, as she set off up, the metal staircase expressing it's strain under her mass, she then turned back to him, and added with a most sly, even faintly malicious tone: "Just remember that once you're on my ship...you're going by Authorian rules and traditions. You're not in any position to argue with me, hon." This was topped off with a cheeky, maybe even slightly sultry wink, before she went back to making her way up to the ship.

Azazel was distracted from the bouncing, jiggling display of bounty making it's way up the stairs as he mulled that over in his head. Something about the way she had said that made him hesitant from head to toe and back again, yet there was nothing clear he could piece together as to figure out her intent. For a species that was pretty used to inferring things, it was somewhat discomforting to be unaware of what such a tone implied.

Nonetheless, there wasn't any chance of turning back now. Making sure he wasn't caught falling behind, not particularly wanting to answer to Kayce as to why, he made sure to close the distance between them before she noticed his hesitancy, the metal boots of his suit clanging about as quietly as he could manage against the staircase whilst he followed behind her, remaining just a pace or so away.

Azazel looked ahead as he went up, although, the only thing to look at was Kayce's monstrous rump, humongous thighs and the quaking motions that ran through them each time she set her weight down upon each step - the skin tight suit ensuring that it was all experienced in flawlessly gross detail, the masses of white-coated blubber taking up the entirety of his vision as he was, not so much forced, but given little other option than to stare at an ass that simply could not be quantified in any way in Azazel's mind.

She must've been exceptionally strong beneath all that mass to even keep moving with it on her figure, yet all this was clearly the purest of dense, gluttony induced chubbiness, as it moved with such viscous liquidity that it threatened to make an embarrassment out of him - his body incapable of calculating what should be done to respond to divinity of such a nature as his blood threatened to rush downstairs again, held back only by sheer force of decency.

The way it flowed so heavily, yet was nonetheless was a victim to the heft of her movements was pushing far too many of Azazel's buttons to be doing anything good for him - Gods, if he listened closely enough, he was damn sure he could hear on the edges of his hearing the sticky, weighty, sloshing shifting of her masses, and if not, he could definitely hear her space grade spandex-bound asscheeks rubbing together with every step she took - his eyes now observing that the quaking of her bounties did not simply end at the peaks of her mounds, and not only reverberated back down from that, but was even passing on that latent wobble through to her gut, and the soft expanse of her back, Gods, maybe even all the way up to her breasts-

He suddenly came to a stop as he collided with something warm, incredibly soft, and seemingly bouncy from density of matter - slapping into whatever it was in a satisfying enough manner to briefly daze him and make him wander back a step or two - then shook his head, wondering what that could have been for about half a second before the obvious solution hit him. He hadn't been paying attention, and they'd already reached the top of the stairs, and-

"Did you just walk into me?" Kayce stated as much as she asked, interrupting his thought process once again, her expression half a grin, and half scrutinizing as he turned to look down at him, curious as to whether that could have been a genuine accident or not.

"Uhm...yes?" Azazel, now being put on the spot, replied tentatively, not seeing any cause to lie, before adding: "I was kinda lost in thought there. Really wasn't looking where I was going..."

"Are you kidding me? Is my ass not big enough? Ain't like it's something you can miss, hon. Practically level with your face and all." Her tone shifted from that of questioning to a perfect fusion of deadpan and mockery as her paws went to her hips, finding glee in watching Azazel's internal alarm bells go off for a moment.

"Evidently not." Azazel answered spontaneously, presumably out of a lack of either composure or options, pairing a cheeky tone with that perfectly tempered audacious smile - the kind reserved for when he'd likely made an idiot of himself and was at least going to do it in style.

It seemed to work, as Kayce first raised a brow, quite clearly struggled to prevent herself from smiling, then, for no reason Azazel could figure out, actually seemed rather flattered for a moment, suddenly being the one to break eye contact and neatly pair her hands behind her back, which was quite the surprise. Seemingly as if she couldn't let the opportunity pass, she broke the steadily thickening silence with: "...Well! I'm sure you could help with that if you wanted? Plenty enough kitchen facilities on board - although I'll tell ya now, it's a heck of a task to try satiate an Authorian, you know! So..?"

Azazel wasn't entirely certain on what exactly he was supposed to say in this position, and after a moment or so, what had been said hanging in the air, the two would awkwardly make eye contact, and Kayce would turn to punch a code into the keypad, suddenly a little flushed, and made sure to change the topic whilst it was still comfortable to do so. "So, Azazel, feel like telling me a little about yourself? Who exactly are you to your species? Must've been important to be the first of y'all into space and all, right?"

"Not really. I stole the ship because I wanted to get off of my planet that badly. I'm not particularly much to my people-" He suddenly checked himself, doubling back on what he had said, then to reaffirm with: "-I mean, the rest of Azerite kind. I'm known, sure, that's about it." That was all he'd said, apparently somewhat reluctant to elaborate on his origins.

Kayce knew when someone wasn't telling the whole truth, but also knew that folks generally had reason for doing such things - nonetheless, as the airlock doors opened, she would press a little, questioning: "So, why'd ya want to get off world so badly, short stuff? I mean, you could have gotten yourself killed and all - you must've had a damn good reason, right?"

With seemingly little forethought - as if he'd had a response ready for the question before it was ever asked, he would shrug with an air of general nonchalance, going on to elaborate with a rather carefree, or careless, tone. "Eh. It's complicated. Part of it is that I couldn't tolerate my family any longer, partly because I don't feel like my place is back on Azeron, and, well, I'll be honest. I don't know for certain. Asides from just leaving it as some inner calling or something, I'd just go with... I dunno, destiny giving me a shove in the right direction?"

"Oho, riiiight, and you bumping into me - I bet that was destiny too, huh short stuff?" A mischievous grin had been starting to work it's way across her features as she said this, a glint in her eyes as they met with Azazel's - although, it was somewhat short lived, as Azazel would then state quite flatly:

"Not really, more as a means to get to it, I reckon. Sorry?" He added the apology onto the end as she suddenly seemed less optimistic all of a sudden, the brief shine in her eye dimming along with the smile on her face draining off into a somewhat stung expression as she now set her sights forward to lead him into the ship. "Right. Come along then."

Following behind her once more, he felt like trying to apologise again, getting the impression that he'd managed to rub her up the wrong way just by being honest. What was she expecting him to say? Wouldn't that have been outright flirting? It was plausible that their cultures had different views on such things - maybe it wasn't considered such an audacious act by the Authorians? Regardless, he hadn't wanted to ruin what was seemingly a good first impression.

The silence that now hung as they progressed through the gunmetal airlock corridors was somewhat uncomfortable - both of them now at an impasse, having nothing natural to say to try and get some kind of conversation going again. The thudding of large, hefty paws, along with the clanging and occasional clinking of Azazel's suit, were the only sounds for a while, asides the closing of the airlock behind them.

The room at the end of the corridor provided a stark shift from the gunmetal grey of the airlock to a shinier, much more sophisticated silver-steel - the air in it seeming to carry a charge of sorts, Azazel noticed - and was marked quite neatly with the word "QUARANTINE" directly above the entrance. As they neared it, Kayce slowed her pace, and took a hold of his arm to ensure they both went in it at once, noticing how Azazel seemed suddenly apprehensive, then stepped through the doorway, setting off the sensors.

Although no undesirable sensations were happening as of yet, Azazel could feel the hairs all over his body trying to stand on end beneath his suit in reaction to the ambient charge, causing him to shuffle uncomfortably on the spot until the doors sealed shut behind them, a frequency blasting through the air as the decontamination process began, Kayce letting go of his arm as to ensure full coverage.

Kayce had never had any strange experiences going through the process before, but Azazel was now stood trembling, eyes locked forward and teeth gritting as his entire body acknowledged the assault of both energy and frequency attacking his outer body in a manner that could only really be summarised as being microwaved, albiet without the pain or the heat. It was only for fifteen seconds, but it felt considerably longer to Azazel - he was still staring into space, trying to get over the sensation after the process was complete, to such a point Kayce would wave a hand in front of his face to no avail, confusion evident upon her features.

"Azazel? Azazel? Hello? You alright there?" Her brow raised at the absence of any response - not even a twitch of an ear or anything of the like, which would be expected upon being heard but not understood. "Hellooooo? You in there?" She went to press his nose like a button to see if that was the key to snapping him out of it - but was surprised to find herself a victim of a rather impressive static shock as soon as she got near, recoiling with about as small a cry someone of her size could manage - to then notice that Azazel was looking at her rather confused, noticing how she was holding her shocked hand with the one that wasn't yet electrocuted, himself seemingly perfectly fine.

"What exactly just happened? Did we get barraged by radiation or something? That felt really, really weird - hey, are you okay?" Azazel raised a brow at the way Kayce was looking at him, seemingly partly bemused, partly unimpressed, and partly as if she might be about to shake him wildly for something.

"Sure, I'm fine. Look, I get you're like, electrically sensitive or something along those lines? Not only did you freeze up back there..." She held her hand, tensing and untensing in an attempt to cure the pins and needles the shock had given her. "You goddamn zapped me through my suit! This stuff is supposed to be made of one of the Galaxy's best insulative polymers, and you goddamn zapped me through it!" Despite the underlying anger at the injury, it was plain enough to hear that she was more impressed than anything, although Azazel wasn't too sure on how to interpret this - rubbing the back of his head, all he could manage was a rather sheepish: "Sorry?"

"Sorry? Seriously? You tryna tell me that was intentional?" At seeing how nervous he suddenly got at that, noting the muted shaking of his head, Kayce sighed, doubling back on what she'd said as she rolled her eyes. "Hey now, could you loosen up a little? I'm not mad at you or anything. I won't bite." Feeling a little cheeky, she would add, snickering a little. "Well... Unless you want me to."

The last remark seemed to be utterly lost on Azazel, as the response to that one was a rather confused: "Why...would I want you to do that?" This would proceed to hang in the air for a moment - the very presence of the question seeming to make the air rife with awkwardness - before Azazel, feeling an urge to try and explain his confusion before the silence could settle, went on to state: "Biting amongst Azerites is...generally reserved for the passionate stages of the mating process. Is it an affectionate thing amongst your kind?"

"A-as a matter of fact-" Kayce began, hurriedly breaking eye contact with him, the fact that the question was both genuine and totally innocent in origin somewhere between direly embarrassing and outright cute. "Yes, it is, actually, although it is also done during...the "mating process" of our own species as well."

A giggle escaped her lips as she mimicked his words, finding it amusing how a species marked up as having a high libido could be sensitive and somewhat dignified around sexual matters - the exact words "mating process" not being something she'd heard in quite some time.

"Well, I mean, you can bite me if you really want to, but I think I'll pass, personally. I mean, we just met - unless you're a highly affectionate species, I don't really think we could be bonding that quickly. Anyway-" As to try and escape the topic - feeling something weird behind the way Kayce was raising her brow at what he'd just said - Azazel pointed a finger gun at the door ahead of them, asking: "Sooo... Ya gonna give me the tour, Princess?"

"Sure, I'll give you a tour of the vacuum of space if you ever call me Princess again. I'll have you know our hierarchies do not follow a monarchical model." Kayce growled slightly, giving him a poke firm enough to nearly knock him over. "That aside - certainly, I'd be grateful to show you around, but first you've gotta get outta that tin-can-suit-thingmagig. For starters, you're on my ship, and you're wearing a jumpsuit sorta like mine during active hours. But outta active hours - feel free to walk around in your undergarments if you so desire. I won't complain." Pressing her hand against a panel on the wall, the door ahead opened, and she gestured for Azazel to follow behind her, immediately taking a left turn as soon as they entered the corridor. Hardly a few moments later, as they approached a window set into the ship's alloy walls, she would gesture to it, quite plainly explaining:

"If you just take a look through that window there - that's pretty much a birds eye view of the cargo bay. Anything of yours that ain't personal should be in there. Well, except the boatload of food you bought, of course, that's been stored appropriately. The drones in there do most of the work for us - most of it. As good as our engineering and programming is, they can't do everything. We just don't have that kinda time!"

"Well, that's why you have me along, ain't it? I'm a perfect candidate to fill in any odd job - tough, strong, electrically resistant, and so on?"

Azazel noticed how Kayce did not immediately answer to this, turning away from the window and going to continue onward before she said- "Yes." -in a tone that suggested that his physical abilities were somehow one of her lesser concerns, before continuing on as to avoid creating suspicion, her hands meeting behind her back in a neat manner as she paced onwards. "As I said before, an extra pair of capable hands can go a long way. As rare as emergencies are on this ship, I don't want to get caught trying to deal with them alone. Anyway..."

Attempting to practice some decency, Azazel's eyes wandered around the ship's interior - noting how much of the aesthetic was far more square and professional than Azerite design, lacking any curvature beyond necessity, being absent of any engravings or blessings on the walls, and not even having any glowing green power runs about the place - it would have been more than slightly bland if not for the quality of construction and the organisation of what few pipes and wiring were visible.

Unlike the outpost he had just been on though, the air smelled pleasant, even homely in comparison. It was hardly anywhere near as excessively sanitized for a start, which, looking back, was somewhat weird considering how Malcolm stated that there hadn't been anyone there in years - did the guy start cleaning whenever he was bored or something? Nontheless, there was something else upon the air that he couldn't quite put a finger on - although it was likely the underlying scent of Kayce, who had probably been living and working on this ship for years.

The two of them would carry on in a considerably more comfortable silence than last time for a while - Azazel's eyes eventually tiring of observing the architecture of the hallways, and at one point, a staircase, and returning to the height of Kayce's hips, finding a fair balance between observing her gloriousness and keeping his head screwed on enough to not walk into her backside again - then, suddenly coming to a warmer, better lit section of the ship, Kayce bought him to a stop at the point at which the corridor split into two paths, gesturing one way with a faint smile.

"If you head down there - you'll find a room with a fresh jumpsuit and somewhere to put your old clothes. Meet me back here when you're done, and we'll get on with the tour." Then, adding with some enthusiasm, she continued: "Then we can get us something to eat, and I can get you comfortable with your duties before the end of the day's work schedule. Got that?"

"Nearly the end of the work schedule already? I only just got here - so short days or am I just that late?" Azazel asked in a rather nonchalant manner, raising a brow as a way of presenting some enthusiasm towards the possibility of short working days.

"Days aren't too long normally - remember the ship does the majority of the work, we've just gotta do the manual work every now and again. Most my days I spend more time being lazy and wishing I had some company to fill in the time with. Now I wonder if that's where you'll come in handy?" She picked a particularly sweet and innocent tone to finish this off with - giving Azazel a sly smile as she did so, which caused no shortage of questions as to what was meant by this.

Azerites could somewhat "feel" the emotions that another organism was giving off - and Azazel couldn't figure out what was up with her. Part of her seemed to be suggesting that she felt affectionate towards him in a way... but as to what way, he wasn't sure, as there seemed to be something else rather dubious underlining it.

As much as he didn't like not knowing what she was thinking, it made a change - but for now, all that could be done was to go along and figure out what was actually going on here.

"Well, alright - I'm actually quite looking forward to it then. I'm interested to see what Authorians do for recreational activities! Considering the differences in our culture, and all." Azazel stated rather enthusiastically, although he noticed how Kayce seemed to raise a brow at that for whatever reason, and, with a: "Right then." He swiftly turned on the spot, setting off pacing down the corridor, and was gone in hardly a moment.

The changing room was obviously made for someone considerably larger. While his suit was rather neatly folded upon the bench at the room's side, the aforementioned bench was nearly up to his shoulders, the mirror in the room was absurdly oversized for him, and the hatch he was supposed to be putting his old clothes through was at a height on which he would nearly be trying to throw them into it, but nonetheless, this wouldn't impede him for long.

In fact, it probably took him longer to get used to the weird, skin tight material of his reddish-orange jumpsuit than to get out of his old clothes and put new ones on - as Azerites often wore loose, breathable clothing, it was a complete opposite to what he was used to. It was somewhat uncomfortable if anything, although if nothing else, he did appreciate that once he could take this off, he could literally tear it open and throw it away - minuscule claw ports upon the fingers, which felt rather bizarre to use, and a polymer seam through the centre of the suit's internals suggested as such - the suits were, as a note attached to his had described, "disposable", and could be recycled back into a useful suit again afterward.

He was more than eager to see his old suit go - functional as it was, it was by no means comfortable, nor was it particularly light - and donning the new jumpsuit made him feel innumerable grades lighter. He did feel somewhat naked though, partly due to how tightly the suit was gripping, partly because of the fact it felt so light, and partly because the absence of any armour whatsoever was something he just wasn't used to, but he got the feeling he didn't exactly need to worry about beasts, random challengers and plasma storms whilst he was out here.

Once he was comfortable in his new suit - forcing his claws back and forth through the sealed claw ports to try to get used to the resistance - he would unceremoniously throw his old suit through the hatch, shake himself to try and get used to the weird sensation of his fur against the jumpsuit's material, and promptly waltz out of the changing room more than eager to get back on with the tour.

"There you are! What the heck took you so long, anyway?" Kayce would put her hands on her hips, feigning an impatient huff as she gave him a quizzical look. "I was starting to wonder what you were doing in there. Anyway - ya all good? Suit fits fine? Not too tight anywhere?"

"Too tight everywhere if you ask me! I've spent my entire life wearing stuff that's uh...a lot more breezy? I think that's the word." It occured to him that Malcolm had never even said the word at any point during his crash course in Galactic Standard English, and Kayce seemed to pick up on his internal confusion, asking:

"Did someone brain scan the Galactic Standard into your head? You seem awfully fluent for someone whose supposedly only been given the crash course - who was your Interpreter?"

"Uh... Interpreter? There was just some guy called Malcolm. An Authorian, like you, a male-"

"Malcolm? A male? That's not possible. There ain't no male Authorians this far away from Old Gaia! Ohh, I'm gonna have to check those records-" For a moment, Kayce seemed to tense up, brow raising and expression growing increasingly dubious, but then, with a shrug and a sigh, she just seemed to stop worrying about whatever it was for a moment as she tried to get things back on track. "Whatever they did to you, don't be surprised if the words stop coming so smoothly before long. Anyway - really? We Authorians love our body hugging stuff. Absolutely love it. Alright, fine, these things can get a lil warm but...gosh is it satisfying to just rip them off and let your body breathe. Plus the material shows off everything. Why have all this bounty and not show it off, right~?"

Kayce was clearly an advocate for the design as far as her tone suggested, going so far as to jump up and down on the spot a little as to show him that everything was by no means an understatement, the incredibly weighty thud of her paws settling on the floor each time emphasising on the sheer mass that could be seen bouncing, wobbling and jiggling on pretty much every part of her body, topping it off with a giggle that very much suggested she was pleased with her own display of heftiness.

"R-right." Azazel responded once she'd stopped, albeit a little quietly, his system arguing about where to direct his blood after witnessing several Azerite lifetimes worth of jiggling adipose in the space of a few seconds - looking up to try break his attention from her body, he found himself greeted with a rather pleased, yet rather sly smile. Before he could try to continue, realising the silence was starting to hang in the air, she questioned most innocently, leaning over as to be a little closer to his level: "Something on your mind?"

Meeting his eyes with those huge, lavender jewels yet again, and resisting the opportunity to check out her unquantifiable cleavage, he smiled, shrugged, and quite honestly stated: "Yes, actually, but it'd take some explaining. Maybe we should actually get on with the tour, Kayce?"

"Huh? Oh, right, the tour!" She giggled a little, acting as if she'd somehow managed to forget about that already. "Honestly could we just, I dunno, skip that? It's not like I can't show you around later - I haven't had company in ages, you know-"

"As much as I'd like to, I would also appreciate getting my bearings now so that I do actually know my way around, Princess." Noting the mild grumble at calling her Princess again, he then went on to continue with a rather pleasing smile, raising a brow: "Besides, I think we should get this done, then we can actually get to know one another? I guess we could probably cut a few corners if you're feeling that impatient."

Kayce feigned a dissatisfied groan, tutted, then shook her head, before starting to turn, beckoning him to follow as she set off down the corridor once more, giggling just a little as she said: "Alright, alright, fine. So next up is Crew Liberties...or as I call it, the Living Room. Big comfy space to..." The example she was going to pick evidently wasn't appropriate, so she interchanged it with: "Do whatever in. I only really use it as somewhere to relax but, with you here, we might actually be able to make some use of it. For conversation, of course."

"I...wasn't assuming anything else." Azazel spoke out of turn, somewhat confused, resulting in him rapidly being shushed by Kayce, who had begun to grin about...something, before going on to continue.

"Then I'll show you to Recreation, where we've got all sorts of tech a primitive desert dweller like yourself would have never seen before and probably wouldn't care that much for - games, VR and AR equipment, that sorta thing... Then directly after that, the Star View, which is just a nice little place to either relax or romance before the wonders of the galaxy...if I had anyone to romance anyway, followed by the Gym, which I think you'll appreciate a lot more. Even got a pool for you to cool off in. Finally-"

"Wait, a pool? As in, just a pool of water? You just...have one of those on board?" Azazel raised a brow, most dubious, whilst Kayce waved her hand nonchalantly, finding it somewhat funny.

"Yes? I get you're from a desert planet, but it ain't like... Nevermind. Anyway, where was I - the Canteen-Kitchen-Multibar...or just the Mess Hall, as I call it, is where we get our food, and probably one of my favourite places on the ship. Want food? The bots will cook for ya. Wanna cook yourself? Reconfigure the room! And if you want something interesting to drink, well, reconfigure again and - you've got a perfect space to get drunk and embarrass yourself in. I'll warn you, some of the stuff in there is kinda dangerous!"

"Oh...and I get kinda...uh..." Kayce racked her brain for an appropriate word, without wanting to give him the wrong idea, and settled for: "Affectionate, when I'm drunk. Something like that. You might be in for some mandatory cuddles." Kayce added with a mild snigger and a shrug, knowing that would hardly be the half of it.

"Sure, sure - just try not to crush me, alright? I might be robust as heck, but I'm not sure about..." The way Kayce stopped and raised her brow at him caused him to falter briefly, but crossing his arms, he continued with a cocky smile: "Our tolerances for mass, you see. High pressure is one thing we don't care much about, but, we're talking a different kind of pressure here, right?" Raising his brow in retort to slap on an added layer of audacity, he then finished off with: "I know first hand that we can withstand a good few tons from pretty much any angle, but I honestly have no idea how heavy you are. You okay there?"

Throughout this, Kayce had first gone increasingly red - eyes first seeming just vaguely irritated and expression seemingly begging to interrupt him with equivalent smart-assery, but then she started to seem somewhat amused - followed by going red yet again as a smile crept upon her features, starting to lean over Azzy a little as she put his audacity under pressure, waiting for him to finish and giving the moment to settle in the air before merely answering: "Who taught you how to flirt, short stuff?"

This time, Azazel was the one to crack, despite trying rather hard to maintain eye contact and come up with something witty, but inevitably breaking it, chuckling nervously as a hand went to the back of his head, becoming quite aware that his cheeks had begun to burn. "Well... For starters, no one, and for seconds - you take some odd things as flirting, ma'am. Am I missing something about Authorian culture here?" Looking back at her once again, he managed as innocent a tone as possible as he asked this - not entirely sure what to make of her reaction.

"Whuh? Aha!" A hearty guffaw boomed from the gargantuan feline, practically shaking Azazel's ribs; "Well, why the heck would you be talking about my weight like that otherwise? For the record - we take damn great pride in our heft, thank ya very muchly! Why, what were you trying to say, huh?"

"W-well, I uh-" Azazel began, feeling a momentary spark of genuine panic as she peered at him inquisitively, but wasn't given any opportunity to continue, Kayce quite jovially interrupting him with: "Quit worrying you, I'm only teasing! You really need to relax! Anyway..."

Turning on the spot and beckoning Azazel to follow once again, she stated, or rather enthusiastically declared the plan from there- "Right! Enough screwing around already - lets get this damn tour done, get us some food, then I've gotta introduce you to the main part of your...job, here on the hauler! That good with you short stuff? Great! Come on!"

There wasn't even time offered for a "yes" or anything of the sort - before Kayce set off with buoyant enthusiasm, the spring in her step making her bountiful body jiggle with the same gusto as Azazel was left to follow behind her yet again - having to take up a light jog to keep up with the goliath pace of the larger feline.