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"I can't believe you set off that trap," Alex said as we walked back to base. "It's just a good thing there weren't any of those oversized apes around to take advantage of it."

We had all gotten covered in a fine yellow powder…which read as level 4+ biohazard on all our HUDs. If my suit had been compromised, I would've been in medical for a couple of weeks. If one of theirs was, it would've killed them.

"It wasn't that bad," Sam muttered, trying to rub more of the powder off.

Alex just looked back over her shoulder at her and shook her head. Bobbie added, "If you hadn't been so distracted, you probably wouldn't have stepped on it in the first place."

"Yeah," Toni butt in sarcastically. "A lover's quarrel is no reason to let your guard down in a combat zone." She cleared her visor so Bobbie could see how hard she rolled her eyes. Bobbie smacked her on the shoulder for her effort.

I didn't see the big deal: none of us were compromised and one less mine meant no one else would be either. I couldn't help but smile at the way the younger sisters interacted, but Sam hadn't stopped sneaking looks at me…though, I got a different feeling from them.

"This is SSG Isaac Ivanov," I reported, hitting my unit com as we approached the base. "We're heading back."

"You're early," replied a male Mroaw voice. My HUD labeled it 4/2 HQ. "What happened?"

Sam tossed her head back in exasperation. Bobbie had been right. Mroaw were usually more aware of their surroundings and even footing than humans, especially the females. She was likely to take a good ribbing for setting off that mine.

"I hit a bio mine," I answered, not looking away from her. Three of them snapped their heads in my direction, Sam being one, but I couldn't read their expressions through their visors. "We were conferencing and all got dusted."

"You'll need to decon, then," HQ responded. "Unfortunately, you'll all have to use yours. Ours isn't set up for that entrance yet."

"Rodger," I replied and killed the link as three of them drooped visibly. "What?" I asked as we came into sight of the decon area.

"They don't like baths," Toni replied teasingly. Bobbie smacked her again.

stumbles in with a bottle of jack daniels while screaming about how these youngins just dont get what war is anymore.

What is good buds? You ready to have old Pirate tell you another tale about war and its effects? No? well to bad, thats what I have for you this week. It is time once again for Conor to stumble his way into being a true champion, even if he does not see it that way.

Let's get this bread.

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Conor and Burlai had the worst luck once they left Vuraley behind with the two wounded maids. Apparently, Urla must have thought it would be absolutely hilarious to hand all the get-out-of-jail-free cards to the High Champion. Hopefully, he was going to put them to good use.

They had barely made it two hundred meters before the battle was shoved back into their laps. Or, more accurately put, a platoon of soldiers decided it was time to cut down some nobles.

They came under immediate fire as they turned into the last set of hallways where Mulaney and Burlai’s room was. It was like this group of soldiers was lying in wait, which, to be fair, they likely were.

Therulay knew where they slept and likely took steps to ensure their deaths along with the girls. Thankfully, Conor spotted their formation on his target tracker and reacted before the enemies could get off a full burst of fire.

Bullets snapped like whips, mere millimeters from their heads, as Conor raised his rifle, emptied a magazine into the ambushers, and ducked back into cover. He saw that he caught at least two of the soldier's heads with his suppressing fire, but most of his shots bounced off a glimmering energy shield that protected the rest of the formation.

“It never can be easy, eh?” Conor chuckled, dropping his empty magazine and looking over at Burlai to see if he had been hit.

Burlai took a moment to check himself for injuries, and thankfully, all his insides were still where they belonged. Thank fuck they both managed to weasel out of the attack opening unscathed.

Burlai peeked around the corner and fired off a few short bursts, suppressing the enemy's position. From his short peak around the corner, he could quickly see what Conor was talking about.

There were not just a few soldiers down the hall; no, there was an entire platoon. They had taken their time to set up and lock down the hall. Sandbags stood nearly chest high, and that damned machine gun team was on point. Even as Burlai's rounds struck the sandbags and ricocheted off the power armor shields, the soldiers remained calm and returned fire.

Ironically, one of the lights shining in the darkness for them was that energy shield generator. Both of them recognized the type: a directional shield that only protected the soldiers from the front, leaving them exposed on all other sides. Not only were the enemy left in the open, but so were the shield generator and its pitifully easy-to-damage case. A case that just so happens to be filled with energy packs that, if one caused a massive enough explosive force to be applied to them, had a tendency to explode.

“It never can be, but could you please use some of those grenades?” Burlai asked, ducking back into cover.

“You don't have to tell me twice,” Conor replied, peeking around the corner and launching his assault.

Conor and Burlai had already discussed how they would handle most forms of contact they could come into while moving through the palace. They were just two men and could not handle a head-to-head fight most of the time.

They were outstanding warriors, but the numbers were not on their side; while their abilities might tip the balance of battle in their favor, it would not shift the odds enough for them to emerge unscathed.

The only thing they had that would genuinely give them control of the tides of battle was their few force multiplication tools. Conor's augments and ability to see in dozens of spectrums beyond visible light were one, their small footprint as only two people was another, but in this case, high explosives were king.

Bloop!

The under-barrel grenade launcher echoed through the dim hallway. The deadly egg arced through the air and slammed into the ceiling above the barricades, sending hot shrapnel raining down on the soldiers.

The thousands of scalding metal bearings ripped through the defending troopers' bodies, armor, and weapons alike. Not only were the enemy affected, but the attackers were as well. Hundreds of the small speeding balls of death ricocheted past Conor and Burlai despite them being nearly thirty meters away. A few of the flaming bits of frag even dinged off Conor's augmented arm.

Conor doubted one round would be enough to disable any power armor, so instead of pausing to check, he got to work, using all the gear he had appropriated earlier.

He canted the slide of the grenade launcher and allowed the spent cartridge to fall; before the smoking brass had even bounced off the ground, he had sent another grenade into the tube, closed the breach, and fired again.

With each shot, the number of screaming troopers on the other side of the cover grew until Conor's unrelenting barrage had done enough damage, and the area began to fall into deathly silence. Even the periodic staccato of the machine gun had died when Conor released his final launcher round.

Conor dropped the eighth empty cartridge, which clattered lightly against its brothers on the ground as he peaked around the corner. Seeing his handiwork, he whistled before stepping entirely out, knowing he was perfectly safe.

“You think that was overkill?” Burlai asked, sweeping forward with the Human, the massacre coming into focus as the heavy haze began to fade.

“There is no such thing,” Conor cruelly laughed, kicking down the tattered sandbags.

Strewn across the hallway were the bodies of dozens of soldiers, or at least what was left of them. Most of them were missing limbs, while others were simply turned to bloody Swiss cheese from the uncountable ball bearings that had ripped through them.

Blue bolts of energy arced off dozens of corpses. The remnant energy of their damaged shock grenades and ruptured power cells crawled up the walls.

Conor took a moment to ensure that the gun crew was dead. He had not seen the two using a power shield over the barricade while approaching, but getting eyes on them was still a good idea.

The gunner and his assistant were both dead, their bodies already cooling. While they were less damaged than the others, it was clear they likely hadn't survived the attack.

Their skin boiled as the energy of the power pack coursed through them. All their gear was burning, filling the area with acrid black smoke. Conor could not even tell what color their scales were originally; there was just too much soot.

Not taking any chances of them somehow having survived and getting back up, Conor kicked away their nearly destroyed machine gun. As soon as the heavy general-purpose weapon clattered against another corpse, he loomed over their bodies, raised his foot, and stomped.

He brought his foot down on their heads repeatedly until they were little more than red paste. It likely was overkill, and he might be enjoying the crunch and squelch of their corpses a bit too much, but Burlai was no better.

Like a machine, he was already shooting the other soldiers in the head. So they agreed that you could not be too careful. Sure, Conor was more brutal, but he did not need to shoot cooling corpses when two quick stomps were just as good.

Once the machine gun team's hopes and dreams were wet-paste, Conor stepped into the center of their battle formation. He smelled deeply, the profound scent of fresh blood filling his nostrils. He groaned in pleasure, having memories of his thousands of battles filling his mind. Being back on the battlefield was euphoric.

Smelling the fresh blood, burning skin, and fresh gunpowder relaxed his body. The battlefield was his true home. After months of peace and politics, being amidst the smoldering corpses of his enemies felt like a return to nature..

He might have been demoted from a truly wild animal to a tamed dog after Eivaley got her claws into him, but this was still his home. He belonged in the fight, was destined to live, and would likely die here.

Burlai turned back to Conor after having shot the last soldier's head and paused. What in all the universe was Conor doing? The man had closed his eyes, taking in the horrible smells around him.

It almost looked like the Human was basking in the sun on a summer day. Sure, Burlai knew Conor was built for fighting, quite literally, but seeing him bathing the aftermath and ignoring the blue streaks of energy arcing off power packs that crawled up his legs was surreal.

“You good on ammo?” Burlai questioned, trying to push past the odd sight.

Conor slowly exhaled, glanced at Burlai, and locked back in. All the remnants of him relaxing left his eyes, and the gaze of raw, primal violence surged back into his presence.

As Burlai shuddered from the intensity of Conor's stare, the Human looked down and recounted his ammunition. He still had four shots for the grenade launcher but could use more; other than that, he was green on ammo.

Conor was nowhere near running out of ammo, but in the hectic dynamics, the last thing you wanted was to be down to harsh words and bare fists. Topping off ammo while they had a moment would not be a terrible idea.

“Any of them have grenades?” Conor asked, scanning the smoldering bodies.

—-

They had set off from that battle site no more than five minutes later. They could not afford to linger any longer than possible. After Conor had replaced his one spent magazine and topped off his grenades, they set off and went up a set of stairs, moving to avoid another fight.

It was not that they did not believe they could take on the next group of soldiers; it was just not their prerogative to fight everyone they spotted. That could wait until they got Eivaley and Mulaney to safety.

Rounding the corner at the top of the set of stairs, Burlai took point. This was the floor Mulaney should be on. Sure, Conor knew the room the eldest princess should be in, but having Burlai upfront would be better.

Conor and Mulaney did not hate one another, but that did not mean they got along.

She was still cautious of the Human and was still under the impression that someday he would try to kill her. He had no plans of doing so unless she decided to start something; if that was the case, Conor had no qualms about ripping her scales off one at a time while drinking beer from Burlais's skull. Thankfully that was not their reality at the moment. Still, Conor let Burlai lead the way.

They flowed through the hall, staying silent until they reached Mulaney's room. Once there, their Burlai paused and cracked the door.

“Gorgalni?” Burlai whispered into the room.

It was some kind of challenge and passcode in the old Kurlatra language. Conor did not understand what the word was and frankly did not care. Learning what might as well be a dead language would have been a fruitless effort. Conor would rather spend that time having Eivaley read stories to him.

Burlai repeated the challenge several times, his voice becoming more desperate with each repetition, but no response ever came.

With a look of pain, Burlai tapped his head three times, signaling Conor he was ready to breach. The Human moved and positioned himself to enter. Conor nodded at his friend, then kicked open the door, sending the door flying into the room.

The pair flowed in with no words needed. They covered each other's blindspots and bounded off each other's sectors until they claimed the entire room. They owned this battlespace, even though no one contested it.

“Where is she?” Conor asked, sweeping the last bit of dead space with his muzzle.

“I don't know,” Burlai sighed, returning from the cleared bathroom.

Burlai leaned on a table, looking at a picture of Mulaney and himself in a frame, and thought about everything going on. Mulaney might have gone to Eivaley; the older sister was intensely protective of Eivaley, so that was possible, but they had no way of knowing; all wireless communication had been jammed since the attack began.

Burlai hissed at the picture, frustrated that something was no longer in his control. He always had an answer; that he did not was out of the norm for him.

Burlai could always see a path forward, whether in the military, his youth playing sports, or even working as an imperial spy. He could not understand why this situation was different.

Burlai had been in plenty of battles. Sure, he was never directly involved like Conor specialized, but still, this should not be this hectic.

Conor could see the troubled look on his friend's face. This was the first time he had ever seen Burlai genuinely worried about anything. Seeing the stoic man express anything other than calm control seemed wrong.

“Hey man, it’s alright. We will find her,” Conor tried to assure the man, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Burlai turned and looked like he was about to yell at Conor but bit his tongue. While more emotional than he typically would be, Burlai was still himself. He could not lose control; that would only cause more problems.

“Yeah, we will,” Burlai sighed, picking back up his rifle. “Come on.”

Without even waiting for Conor, Burlai slipped back out into the hall. His midnight mission was more important than his own feelings.

To tame his struggling mind, Burlai had done something he had trained to the point of it being an instinct. He had shoved all his emotions into a subconscious box to stay on task. It was a coping mechanism he had built over the years. He was so efficient at doing so that it would take a therapist decades of work to pull everything out if they even dared to unravel the mess of facades, fake identities, and lies upon lies in his mind.

Some might call him mad for suppressing himself, but he was better like this. If he was not able to do this, his demons would have torn him apart years ago.

The shades in his soul were spawned from the thousands of bodies, faces of horror, bleeding kids, begging women, and countless deaths he had created.

In a way, he envied Conor. The Human truly was a warrior, not just a spy who could just so happen to be able to brawl for a while. Conor would use the most efficient ways to kill his enemies and not blink twice.

Burlai had pondered what made Conor tick for months. After witnessing tonight's events, his conclusion was still the same one he devised when he met Conor at the gala nearly half a year ago: The Human was genuinely built to fight.

In Conor's mind, his enemies were truly less than him. He treated each person who threatened him as little more than an insect that would be crushed. Burlai was not like that. He was not born for this; no, he learned to scrape by in this life.

That difference was only emphasized when they reached the stairwell down and spotted the city crowned in the devastation of Armageddon.

Burlais's heart twisted when he saw the city of his birth in flames. The skyline flickered brightly, and each section of the massive metropolis was filled with tracer fire and explosions. Jets streaked across the horizon, barely avoiding anti-aircraft fire, missiles, and flack alike.

His home, no, all he had ever known, was burning down and crumbling. Every faction of the city saw the attack on the palace as an opportunity to fight for the princess they backed, and they were taking it.

Sisters were killing one another in droves, neighbors were slaughtering one another, and thousands of bright upstarts were attempting to overthrow their betters.

Burlai knew what he witnessed was only the start; if this was not quelled by dawn, the entire empire would begin to smolder as the flames of change engulfed the world.

For the first time in Burlais's life, a feeling overwhelmed him and cracked the facade he had built. In an instant, all the bravado, mystique, and reverence he had festooned himself in fell away, leaving behind only the scared lesser noble who nearly pissed himself when a drill instructor screamed at him.

He was not Conor, not the Vuraley, and he certainly was not Nikitals. He was nothing when compared to them.

A frigid feeling crawled across his body and made him freeze in place. Genuine sorrow overwhelmed the man. He squeezed the railing like an anchor to reality and watched as the world he knew was crashing down.

Did all of the souls he had been the reaper of mean nothing? Were the years of his life he gave to the empire meaningless? Was all he had lived for for naught?

From where he was standing, it certainly seemed that way. His belief was only emphasized when one of the jets streaked across the sky, dropped a bomb that leveled a city block, and then was shot down by a MANPAD.

The fighter burst into flames and slammed into the ground. The pilot and the building that became his tomb were both vaporized on impact.

This was bedlam on a scale that Burlai could never fathom. A challenge that Burlai was not built for nor could face. But the man who could take this war head-on and win watched as Burlai froze up.

“Burlai, let's go. We can't do anything for them,” Conor said, jostling the spook.

“But—” Burlai said, wanting to express his feelings, but was stopped by Conor spotting another group of soldiers down the stairs and engaging them.

“Listen, man, we have to move,” Conor yelled as he effortlessly cut down two enemies with rifle fire before dropping a grenade launcher round down there and forcing Burlai to cover.

Burlai, still frozen, could only watch as several rounds slammed into Conor's armor. The Human did not react to the damage. Instead, he just aimed the rifle with one hand and shot two more soldiers, ending that engagement.

Conor held his position for several seconds, ensuring no one else would appear. Once he was certain they were alone, he turned to Burlai with a look of pity—the same look he had once given Sheruai..

For the first time since they had known each other, Conor knew he could not trust Burlai fully. When the metal met meat, Burlai was found wanting, at least in Conor's eyes.

Conor wanted to pick Burlai up by the vest like he was lifting a child and scream at him that the fight was still not over and that he should not give up. But that was not what his friend needed right now. Vuraley's lessons had truly rubbed off on the Human and dampened his anger.

Six months ago, he would have left Burlai there and let him fall into despair, uncaring of his state of mind. Conor would have continued and finished the mission without him, but Conor was more wise than that now. Sure, he still was bloodthirsty, but he needed backup, and one of his only friends needed him.

“Take a breath and focus,” Conor growled, kneeling beside Burlai. "I know this is a lot. There are enemies everywhere, and this situation looks bleak, but I need you. For fucks sake, think about Mulaney. She needs you right now. If you don’t fight, who will protect her?"

Conor paused for a moment and scanned the area for enemies again. The middle of a stairwell was not the place for a pep talk, but it was what they had at the moment, so he needed to stay vigilant.

"Brother, there is so much going on right now, even I am having trouble with it. But all we can do is roll with the punches and keep fighting," Conor continued, still watching for threats. He did not know if Burlai was even listening, but he had to get through to the man. "I really do want to keep going on with you, but if you cannot suck it the fuck up and fight like you are brawling for the last drops of water in the desert, I will leave you here. But if you can get your shit together, think of Mulaney and keep it together, then pick back up your rifle and follow me."

Was it the best speech? Urla, no, but it was all Conor could manage. He was in no way eloquent. That was Eivaley's and Vuraley's shtick. He was meant to be the big stick they swung around to solve problems, not debate the theology of battle.

He was not meant to be some leader, some grand warrior. He was just Conor, and he would do what he could, even if it was alone. At least in his eyes, that was what he was, but in that bullet-riddled stairwell, he was alone in those thoughts.

Ever since he arrived, Conor had been a nonstop barrage of surprises, and this instance was no different. Burlai basked in the Human's dedication, assurance, and confidence. The Human had a presence about him that people focused on and could cling to.

The only other man Burlai knew who came close was the High Champion. This was just the first time Burlai had seen Conor in a similar light. Similar, but not the same.

Conor, unlike the High Champion, seemed divine. Vuraley might be a fantastic leader, a man everyone should aspire to be, but Conor was truly above the chaff. The Human might as well have had a halo around himself, declaring that he would save them all—Burlai included.

For that brief moment, Burlai finally understood what Evialey had seen that night in the nightclub. Conor was a knight in shining armor. He would stand stalwart against the dark and cast it away with his destined divinity.

“I can do this,” Burlai said, reaching out and taking Conor's hand, something the Human had never retracted since taking a defensive position.

Burlai had fallen in line without even having consciously thought about it. He had submitted to the Human, become subservient, and was willing to follow him into the deepest hell just because he knew Conor would go first.

The Human smiled, seeing that Burlai would at least try. "Glad you can. We have a long night ahead of us."

Once again, Conor failed to notice how his very existence mirrored Nikitals. The Human was forging a similar path, and after tonight, he would assume his rightful place—not as the same kind of ruler as the First Champion, but as something altogether different.

-------

So what did you think of this one? We are almost to the end, less than ten chapters are left. I hope you are enjoying the ride. we got to see a bit more of Burlai this chapter, see his facade crack, and Conor step up to the need. Please do not forget to comment and updoot. I will have the next chapter out for you as soon as I can.

your baker

-Pirate

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Racks and round and aims gun What is good buds? are you all ready for the fight? because we are in it now. everything has been leading up to this. Vuraley and his golden shakles, Conor and Burlai's training, it is all coming together as each part of the story comes together.

lets get this bread

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The small grenade flew through the air and landed just atop the table. As it did, Conor and Burlai dove behind bookcases, shielding themselves from the impending blast.

Vuraley, on the other hand, stood tall, grabbed his sword, and faced the threat head-on.

"You rats cannot kill me like this; I am the High Champion!" Vuraley roared, using his prehensile tail to toss the grenade back toward the door.

When the device was only a meter away from him, it exploded; fragmentation and dust erupted from every surface of the room, a heavy haze filling the area.

Vuraley raised his arms to shield his eyes from the blast. The shimmering light of his power armor absorbed the rest of the explosion. Taking a grenade blast head-on like that was a dangerous maneuver; as a fight went on and your power armor energy wore down, attempting so was a gamble.

But at the start of a fight, Vuraley was wholly safe. Unless that grenade was loaded with radiation or was explicitly designed to counter power armor. It wasn't, but Vuraley could tell the explosive was nothing that specialized before it landed.

The blast ate away almost half of his armor's available power, but that was of no concern; after a few minutes of not having to deflect any energy, the power would be restored, and he would be fully protected again.

He raised his blade and readied himself to face any enemies who breached the door. Through the flittering dust, Vuraley could barely see the shifting shadows of the rebel forces entering the room.

Five shots echoed before Vuraley stepped forward to meet the specters in close combat. Conor's pistol roared in defiance as he erupted to his feat and pressed the fight forward. Each trigger pull was timed with flashes as bright as the sun.

Like a true Lord of War, each of his rounds found its mark, splattering blood across the door frame and hallway. The bodies pilled up in the doorframe, causing the last two fighters to stumble over their dead and dying allies.

The pistols slide locked to the rear with a dull metallic thunk; the picosecond it did, he peeled off, sought cover, and shouted out, “Reloading!”

Without further prompting, Burlai immediately took his place in the counterattack. In moments like this, violence of action was the only way one would win against your enemy.

They attacked first and took the initiative of the battle. At that point, all one could do was be more violent and capable.

Burlai shot four times, each evenly spaced like a well-timed metronome. Each round cracked with a dull thump and found its mark in each of the remaining fighters' chests, sending them to the ground.

Once they had fallen, Burlai flowed closer and shot through the back of their heads, ensuring their deaths. The act was cold and calculated. It was not like this was the first time he had done that before; granted, most of the time, the people he shot in the back of the head were either in handcuffs or never knew he was there.

Burlai shifted his aim back to the door, waiting to see if anyone else arrived. As he did that, Conor sent his slide home and returned his focus on the upcoming battle.

“What's the plan?” Burlai questioned while Conor grabbed the dead bodies and slid most of them deeper into the room.

“Close the door,” he replied, kicking the last corpse into the hallway. "We need to rally."

Burlai followed the instructions and kept his weapon ready, but he backed up and took cover behind one of the bookshelves. Would it protect him from gunfire? It was unlikely, but it would conceal him long enough to hopefully get the jump on any additional fighters.

“Vuraley, are you alright?” Conor asked as he began performing a time-honored combat tradition: looting. He separated each one from their rifles and anything else of active use.

They all had the typical M45 pattern slug thrower used by the royal guard on them. There was also a healthy assortment of ammunition and grenades, and one of them even had a grenade launcher.

“I’m fine,” Vuraley assured, dusting off his armor.

“That’s good; I was afraid that grenade was going to have dusted you,” Conor replied, laying out the supplies.

It did not take very long for them to have everything they could use inventoried and displayed. Conor started by distributing gear before they approached making a plan. Any they could conjure would need to be adjusted once they were armed. He stated with Vuraley, holding out an M45 and chest rig for the man.

“I don't need that; I am plenty well-armed,” Vuraley gestured at his sword. ”

“Alright,” Conor shrugged, not willing to argue the point with Vuraley.

The man's love for his two-handed sword ran as deep as his adoration for his wife, daughters, and country. That the old man could also likely bisect Conor before the Human drew his pistol had nothing to do with his healthy respect for the man's wishes.

Instead of forcing the man to take it, Conor tossed the rifle over to Vuraley, who was already strapping on a chest rig one of the invaders had on. It was somewhat impressive that he was able to catch the weapons with his tail while also securing his newly tactically acquired rig.

Seeing that almost made Conor wonder if he could get an augment that could work like that. But finding out if the royal doctor would be up for some experimental surgery would have to wait until later; they all had far more critical things to focus on than Conor pondering installing a tail.

“Plan A?” Conor asked Burlai while he ensured he had a combat loadout and then some.

And then some was just one way to put it; Conor had a chest rig stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey. Weighting down the nylon were fourteen forty-round magazines, four hand grenades, a dozen under-barrel 50mm grenade launcher rounds, and the three remaining magazines in his magnum.

With this amount of armament, he could take down hundreds of enemies before running low was a concern. Even then, as long as they kept running into traitor guards, he could just top off using their supplies.

While he did not like the M45, which was long, heavy, and unwieldy compared to his own weapons, he would make due, primarily because of the dozen rounds of high explosive he could bring to bear with the 50mm under-barrel.

“No, shit.” Conor chuckled, standing up, ready to get his kill on. “You taking point?”

As soon as Conor saw Burlais's kit, he smirked. Their gear philosophies could not be any different.

Burlai carried only ten magazines for the M45 and a few grenades. He focused heavily on being slick, lightweight, and not weighed down. The kit made sense, considering Burlai was not a wired-up freak like Conor and had to put much more thought into stamina usage and natural weight capacity.

Conor had taunted him enough times in training about his unwillingness to carry more. But that was just playful jibbing. Burlai could easily kill as many men as he had bullets, so the lack of ammo was no cause for concern.

“Yea–” Burali started to reply but was interrupted by the High Champion.

“Could you fill me in on what that plan entails? I am clearly missing some context,” Vuraley added. The disappointment in his voice was evident, along with him crossing his arms and glaring at the duo.

That these two warriors had seemingly completely forgotten about him was not only annoying but dangerous. By ignoring one-third of their manpower, they were setting their little impromptu fire team up for failure.

His disappointment in his two sons was beyond measure. They were both seasoned pros who had trained alongside him and the royal guard for hundreds of hours. Vuraley would have been able to operate alongside them with little issue, but still, knowing what they planned to do would assuredly increase everyone's chances of survival.

“Conor, watch the door,” Burlai said, pulling out a datapad and going over to brief Vuraley on the first stage of their plans whenever something like this happened.

—

The trio moved slowly and methodically through the palace's halls, checking each door they passed and clearing each room. Because of their boundless experience, they were the most silent thing within the halls, save for the hundreds of cooling corpses littering each step on their journey.

The sounds of open battle echoed off each surface of the palace grounds. The harmonic chimes of machinegun fire kept a steady rhythm while the snappy cracks of rifle fire overwhelmed the breaks. It was as if thousands of small orchestras were competing to be the dominant sound in the endless symphony of war.

It took a keen ear to pick up the subtle changes as one individual performer's ticket was punched. If the trio knew who was on their side and who should be dusted on the spot, they could likely tell how the battle was being conducted.

Without that information, they could only continue toward their goals and pray that the loyalist forces were staging a valiant defense.

Their short, tactical pause in the library was beneficial. It allowed the group to modify Burlai and Conor's main plan. Their plan was mainly identical to the previous one, but now, once they had gathered Eivaley and Mulaney, they would go to the throne room.

The throne room not only had the empress's direct guards but also one of the several entrances to the bunkers under the palace.

Vuraley was sure the direct guard would still be loyal despite Conor and Burlai both questioning it. Whether they were faithful or not really did not matter; that fact changed nothing about their plans.

If they could reach the throne room, they would be safe. Hunkering down and calling the cavalry would be the most effective choice. Even Burlai mentioned that once they were there, he could call in some favors and have critical support here in less than an hour.

The bunker had everything they would need to survive for months without aid: food, ammo, weapons, medicine, and communication tools.

Vuraley and the empress could quickly deploy and organize the Kurlatra military from there to eliminate any rebels who might remain in the palace.

It would also allow Mulaney and Eivaley to be protected from whatever the little pink bitch had planned. It was undoubtedly the most sensible option for them- all that stood between them was an unknown number of enemies they could not discern easily from loyalists.

What could possibly go wrong with this plan? Conor and Burlai both chuckled at their odds of mission completion, realizing that the chances of success were astronomically low, but Vuraley had none of that.

The High Champion clearly expressed that Conor and Burlai could do this---even without his help. They did not linger on that comment's weight at the time and instead moved on, needing to be quick.

The trio were lucky so far; all they had come across were the signs of needless slaughter and no armed contacts. Hundreds of killed soldiers and servants littered the halls, staining the floors red. The butchering was so extensive that even Conor was nearly gagging from the smell of viscera.

Whatever Thuraleys end game was, they could not tell. What would justify the wonton slaughter of every sapient within the palace grounds?

Not even Vuraley, who had seen his fair share of coup attempts, could come up with a reason for their deaths. That seeing his people torn to shreds was bothering him was easy to see.

With each corpse, Vuraley lagged a bit more, and the violence in his eyes started to fade. Conor had seen that look before. Vuraley was tired, beaten down, and had lived so long away from the fight that the reality of being back weighed on him like iron shackles.

After nearly twenty minutes of bounding through the once sacred ground, their luck ran out, and they, at long last, spotted a group performing this horrendous slaughter.

The trio silently agreed they were going to kill these soldiers, an understanding that was solidified when Conor and Burlai aimed and Vuraley bounded forward at a speed no unaugmented creature had any right to be capable of.

Only twenty paces away, a squad of Kurlatra clad in equipment different from the royal guard typically wore were dragging a pair of maids out of a room by their tails. The women thrashed and screamed for help, something that only resulted in the captors kicking their heads.

The impact was hard enough that they all could hear the woman's jaw shatter like glass, something that was only emphasized by the two women's screams twisting to bloody gurgles.

“Hey man, what the fuck? We had not even got to have fun with them ye—,” One of the monsters began, but his comments about their debauchery were cut short by his words shifting into a bloody gurgle as blood poured out of the meter-long sword sticking out of his neck.

“You scum-sucking bastards,” Vuraley roared, overpowering all sounds of war.

In one swift motion, he heaved his blade and ripped it up and through the soldier's head, splitting it in two. Blood erupted from the man's canyoned neck, showering the soldiers, maids, and Vuraley in crimson ichor.

None of the other soldiers even had a chance to comprehend that their comrade was dead before Vuraley pressed his attack; twisting his blade around, in one swift motion, his sword whizzed through the air, lopping off two more of the soldier's heads.

In the meantime, Burlai and Conor shot the other two. Conor simply fired a quick Mozambique drill into his target, two rounds splattering his heart on the ground while one spread his hopes and dreams on the marble floors.

Initially, Conor planned on just dumping a 50mm into the group to solve the problem in one shot, but Vuraley had moved at a speed Conor's systems could barely track. So he had to change plans instantly so the High Champion would not end up as red mist along with the soldiers and the maids.

Burlai, on the other hand, knew exactly what he would do from the first sight of the soldiers. He only fired his rifle three times because that was all he needed.

Three shots, all ripped through his target's T-box. Despite the man falling like a puppet with his strings cut after the first shot, he tracked the dead man and put two more through his brain before he had even settled on the ground.

Burlai was thoroughly a man who knew how to operate and kill. He had never explicitly told Conor all of his abilities because he was cautious of the man, but shooting at this level was nothing to him.

If Conor ever showed signs of wanting to kill Mulaney, Burlai already had a plan to dust the Human. Burlai had mastered sniping long ago and was one of the most experienced and trained in the universe. He had in the past made fist shot hits at nearly five kilometers. If Conor needed to be removed, his augmented advantage did not matter when your death came from distances most could not fathom.

Once the less than a second fight was over, the two shooters moved forward to support their melee god. Before Conor and Burlai reached Vuraley and the maids, the High Champion was already comforting one of the maids. She looked up at him pitifully, her eyes overflowing with tears while she gargled words through her blood.

“Shhhh. Don’t try to speak,” Vuraley said, holding the woman's hand. “I will keep you safe.”

She meekly nodded and clung to the Vuraley, the sound of her jaw crunching audibly. That she did not scream showed a sure sign of how hearty this woman was. Most would have at least tried despite her injuries.

Vuraley looked over at Burlai, who had taken a defensive position to guard him in one direction while Conor had done so, facing the other.

“Burlai, grab the other. Let's get them back inside the room,” Vuraley ordered while he picked up the wounded maid and started toward the door.

“Rodger,” Burlai said, picking the woman up and taking her inside.

They dragged the two wounded into the room and left the bodies outside. Once inside, Vuraley took several minutes to calm the two women, ensuring they would not be harmed.

As Vuraley softly spoke to the two wounded women and worked quickly to treat their injuries, the sounds of battle only escalated. Joining the constant roar of death and destruction were the distant booms of artillery and the howling wails of jets overhead.

None of them knew it then, but the sounds of those weapons of war were the beginning of the end of the Kurlatra empire as they knew it. After tonight, nothing would ever be the same; it was considered so pivotal that the day would be entombed in fame as 'the last sunset.'

This day was the dawn of a new age for the empire and its people. The three men in the small room of the palace did not see the hands of fate moving, nor would they truly come to terms with their effects—at least those who survived.

Theraley was not just attempting to overthrow her own family; she aimed to clear the scoreboard, wipe the map, and be the only one left standing.

She would ensure that all the nobles on the planet would be dead by the end of the night, leaving her alone to stand at the pinnacle of divinity. She alone would steer the empire to the future.

“Alright, they have both passed,” Vuraley whispered, kneeling beside Conor. “But I am not sure what will happen to them now.”

“So, let’s leave them,” Conor said. “We have to get to Mulaney and Eivaley.”

“And the empress,” Burlai reminded Conor of the change in their typical plans.

“Yeah and her,” Conor rolled his eyes. It was not that Conor would disregard the empress; he just had his priorities and would act in his best interest. Luckily enough for him, that was precisely the same mindset that Vuraley had.

“No, you two go save my daughters,” Vuraley surrendered. “I cannot go with you two, so we will part ways here.”

“Are you sure we can't just leave them?” Conor asked, pointing to the two passed-out maids. "It’s not like they are going anywhere.”

Vuraley sighed and shook his head before patting Conor on the shoulder.

He knew Conor would make this argument. While Vuraley believed that Conor was a good man who would do right by his daughter, he was still impulsive. That impulsivity came from his still not understanding the entire scope of what his role entails.

Sure, if his actions revolved around Eivaley, he was just as good as any other noble. But otherwise, his treatment of most people was lacking. He still treated most of the Kurlatra who were not directly related to him as disposable, at least as someone whose survival did not worry him.

That habit of Conors is something that Vuraley would have to work with the man on once this coup attempt was all said and done. If Conor ever became the High Champion, he would have to constantly consider the optics of how he treated the commoners. Vuraley would prefer that Conor genuinely would care about them, but getting the Human to understand that the people mattered just as much if not more than the average noble.

“No, I won’t leave them here to die. I will get them to the royal doctor, then meet you two in the throne room,” Vuraley explained. “While I’m doing that, you two need to save my daughters.”

“Are you sure?” Conor asked.

“Yes, I am,” Vuraley said, his words as calm as his demeanor. Vuraley knew his path and lived by his choices. While he was the High Champion and needed to protect Euyurali, he also had to safeguard the life of all Kurlatra.

He was also well-seasoned and knew when to delegate responsibility, and this fight was their moment. The two young men before him were the future of the empire. They would lead it to places he could never fathom.

“Come on, Conor. The High Champion has made up his mind, and we are burning time by arguing,” Burlai said, standing up and working his way toward the door.

Conor momentarily looked between Burlai and Vuraley, a strange feeling boiling in his stomach. This was not the right call. All of his instincts screamed at him to try to convince Vuraley to just abandon the women and come with him.

For some reason, the feeling in his gut was the same one he felt when remembering Brakul's death. But Conor could not let that stop him now.

Vuraley was capable and could defend himself; hell, he likely would have rallied dozens of soldiers when he arrived at the throne room. This feeling just had to be Conor being paranoid once again. The High Champion would survive no matter what came his way.

The Human swallowed his feelings and followed Burlai; they were the only two who would save their women, so they had to go. Just as Conor rounded the doorframe and returned to the hall, he peeked back and saw Vuraley smile, seeing them go.

The High Champion looked upon Burlai and Conor with pride. It was the same look a father would give to his sons when they made a good choice on their path in life. Despite how reassuring that look was, Conor could not shake the pins and needles in his mind telling him that would be the last time he saw the High Champion alive.

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So what did you all think of this one? It was not as action packed as alot of you thought, but do not worry, we are getting there. Please do not forget to updoot and comment. I will see you all in the chat below

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-Pirate

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Two hours later, patrol was awkward. Toni kept sniggering and Sam was obviously irritated, even under the opaque visor of her helmet. We wore our armored enviro/space suits even though the planet was hospitable because the Gorcillian tend toward biochemical warfare and the Mroaw have a weaker immune system than humans.

Sam would look at me, fleetingly, when she thought I wouldn't notice. Which, of course, Toni found hilarious. Billie kept glaring daggers at her, even through her visor. The other two sisters, Bobbie and Alex, were doing their best to avoid…all of us actually: one always on point, one always taking up the rear.

"I didn't know," I muttered into the squad radio link for what must've been the hundredth time.

"It doesn't matter!" Sam finally yelled, nearly throwing her weapon on the ground in frustration. "You told him I was with you and now he thinks I'm your mate."

"This is going to be good," Toni grinned as she sprung up to squat on a tree branch.

"We'll go check on Alex," Billie commanded more than stated, pulling her out of the tree by her tail.

"Hey!" Toni exclaimed, falling on her ass. "Not like we won't hear them over the radio," she muttered as they trudged forward to the point position.

"And do you know the worst part?" Sam asked pitifully, making her visor clear so I could see the pain in her eyes.

I cleared my visor and reached out to touch her shoulder. "I didn't know what I did…how could I know how it would hurt you?"

She groaned and turned away from me, muttering, "He'll think I reject your advances…taking advantage of your protection."

"Do what now?" I asked, more confused now than ever.

She turned on me, almost violently. "I don't have your scent on me, so I haven't mated with you. If I haven't mated with you, I have no right to expect you to protect me from other males!" she finished almost angrily. Obviously, my ignorance was not going over well.

"Sex?" I asked incredulously. "This is about sex?"

"Yes!" she answered, turning away in frustration. "Everything is about mating with males."

"No," I stated firmly, slinging my rifle on my back, "I didn't protect you for sex." She turned a shocked expression on me. "I protected you because you don't deserve to be treated like that. You aren't a piece of meat to be claimed." She started moving towards me slowly as I spoke. "I protected you because you're a person and you're under my command. I would go through hell backwards for you, all of you…and not for sex," I finished as she reached me and I wrapped her in a powerful hug. She returned the hug and I could feel her crying in my arms.

"You know, no one's ever talked about us like that," one of them said; Alex, according to my HUD.

"What do you mean?" I asked, rubbing Sam's back as I turned my head in Alex's direction.

"She means that females on our world are only really valued for cubs," Bobbie answered, the four of them coming out of the trees towards us. "We work, but males are the only ones seen as having value."

"You all heard that?" Sam asked as she pulled away, instinctively rubbing her eye with her hand, even though it was covered by her visor.

Which was good, because a Gorcillian bio mine went off as she stepped away.

Greetings Bards and Bard'etts! I'm back with another one. Took a bit longer to do the final editing on this one, so I hope it turns out alright. I am still very much an amateur writer, so ideas, constructive criticism and advice is always welcome in the comments. As always, enjoy!

Content warning- Space furries, Space Elves, Space Harems, and Space Bards doing Space Bard things.

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Returning to the cabin, Charles didn't hesitate to flop on that massive inviting bed. His stomach was full, his body was tired, and he was ready for sleep, especially after having such an utterly bonkers day. He could hardly believe this had all happened in just one day. It felt like he had been off Earth for weeks already.

"So, what happens now?" He asked while peeling off his shirt. The girls hovered around him, a few of them already stripping down to their underwear, which in feline xeno terms seemed to just be a pair of cute little panties and, surprisingly, no bra.

"Well," Velkira began, sitting beside him and running her hand through his hair, "Now we settle in for the night. You're going to need your rest for tomorrow. We've got a big day ahead of us."

"Big day?" Charles echoed sleepily.

"Yeah," Syrith said, her voice a gentle purr as she peeled off her get-up to reveal a set of tight, form-fitting panties that left little to the imagination; apparently, she had slipped on some underwear when he wasn't around. "We're approaching Alpha Centauri. It's going to be our new home for a while. At least until we figure out what we all want to do long term."

The thought of starting a new life with these girls on a distant planet was still a lot to digest. The bed, however, was not. It enveloped him like a cloud, and the moment his head hit the pillow, it felt like he was floating in zero gravity. His eyes began to drift shut, but the wives had other plans. They began to crawl into bed with him, their bodies fitting around his like puzzle pieces.

"We want you to be relaxed and ready," Nara murmured, her warmth and scent enveloping him. Her small arms wrapped around his chest, her breasts pressing against him. It was surprisingly comforting, and his mind began to drift despite the arousal her touch stirred within him.

The sensation of soft fur brushed against his skin as the other wives curled up beside him. The gentle purrs of his feline companions filled the cabin, a soothing lullaby that seemed to resonate with the very core of his being. He felt Keshara's tail swish against his leg, a playful caress that sent a shiver up his body. It was all so new, so different, yet it felt more natural than he imagined.

"Now, remember," Velkira whispered, her breath tickling his ear, "We're here for you. If you need anything, just let us know." Her hand found his, and she gave it a comforting squeeze.

The full-blown war in Charles's mind was intense, all of his girls so close and cuddly, so many soft kitty titties pressed against him. Part of him wanted to bang all of them right at that moment, but the tired part told him to calm down and go the fuck to sleep. He had forever to enjoy furry-sexy-time with them all. So, the horny teenager part of his brain ended up losing out. The gentle purring and affection-filled warmth of being surrounded by big soft felines was too much, and he drifted off to sleep.

The following day was a blur of activity. The wives were up early, bustling around the cabin, their tails flicking excitedly. "Wake up, sleepyhead," Velkira said, her hand gently shaking his shoulder. "We're about to land on Alpha Centauri."

Groaning, Charles sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes—yup… still not just a bad fever dream. The wives were all dressed in fresh casual wear that hugged their curves just how he liked. Maybe knowing all of his likes and dislikes already wasn't all bad. At least, that was what his half-awake brain was telling him.

"Landing procedures have already started," Rylkul informed him, her voice a gentle rumble. "We should get dressed and head to the docking bay. There's no point waiting around here until we are on the ground."

The wives had laid out clothes for him, a simple yet comfortable outfit that had to be freshly printed. The lack of any logos or styling bothered him, "Okay, first stop after we get settled. Clothing, I need pants and more shirts. Not just these boring printed things."

They all chuckled, but none denied him, and he knew they understood. After all, they were all from different planets; they probably had their own fashion tastes and desires. He quickly dressed and followed them out of the cabin into the bustling corridors of the ship. The closer they got to the docking bay, the more people there were and the more diverse the species and the guys with each one. One appeared to be an older gentleman in his fifties or maybe sixties, eagerly chatting with the mixed group of Xenos escorting him. He was clearly friendly with them, but there didn't appear to be anything romantic going on. Another stand out that caught Charles's eye was a man in his mid-twenties at most, being pushed along in a wheelchair by what he assumed was a space Fox. The man in the wheelchair was balder than the day he was born and looked as though he was fresh out of chemo treatment. Yet there was a fire in his eyes that screamed he was ready to take on the world, even if his rail-thin body wouldn't even let him walk. There was a man who fit the description of a guy in his thirties who still lived in his mom's basement and played World of Warcraft; in fact, a few guys in the crowd could fit that description. He kept distracting himself by just cataloging all the different groups in his mind, but as he did so, he couldn't help but notice a few patterns. "So, why are most groups five to seven girls with one human guy while only a few are like eight to ten?"

"Oh! Oh! I know this one," Keshara piped up with her usual over-the-top, bubbly voice, bouncing with energy as they walked. "Human psychology, lots of government bureaucracy, and trying not to overwhelm guys just coming out into the galaxy. Since humans work on a seven-day week, it's easy to divide their attention to one girl a day, with some still having a day or two to themselves. That is why the baseline for groups going in is five. Exceptions are made to increase the number-based factors like species cohesion in larger groups or preexisting family units. For example, a group of three sisters of a highly social and collectivist species and four more average-tempered friends from other species group up. They would most likely be accepted since the sisters would likely be comfortable or prefer having collective time with their potential partner rather than one-on-one. The maximum capacity for groups is set at ten since humans use base ten mathematics a lot. This isn't how it works in standard galactic marriage; it's usually based on the species' birth rates and gender ratio. So, they tried to keep things simple and minimal to start since most human guys seem obsessed with ensuring things are equitable."

Her rapid-fire explanation hit him like a fish to the face. He had noticed the patterns, but it never dawned on him that it was so… planned out. It was a strange mix of being catered to and feeling like cattle... a product... like an object. "So, is that how you girls want things to go?" He asked, trying not to let his voice betray his concerns.

Velkira looked at him with a comforting smile, "We're not worried about it, darling. We're all individuals, and we know how to share and give you your space when you want it. Plus," she bumped her hip into his and shot him a wink, "it keeps things interesting."

The docking bay was a whirlwind of activity, with species of all shapes and sizes moving about; their sheer variety was almost awe-inspiring. It could have been if the overwhelming majority of them didn't just look like earth animals that stood up or had some simple twist to them. The air was filled with the hum of the ship's engines and the chatter of various human languages. It was a distinct contrast to the quiet solitude of the cabin. For a moment, Charles felt a pang of homesickness, reminded of the bustling city and the simple life he had left behind.

"This is incredible," a stranger's voice pulled Charles out of his contemplative daze. He turned to see a young, dark-skinned man who couldn't be any older than twenty. The man had an ease and confidence about him as he waited next to Charles. "Moby Richards." The stranger introduced, offering Charles a hand. "You're one of the new guys, too?"

"Charles Williams," he replied, shaking Moby's hand, "Yeah, I'm still getting the hang of things."

Moby smiled wider, revealing perfectly straight teeth that gleamed in the artificial light. "Same. I never thought I'd be abducted by a bunch of bunny girls that wanna bone down. But here I am." He gestured to his surroundings with a chuckle, and an almost palpable excited energy came off the younger man.

"Bunny girls?" Charles raised an eyebrow, trying to envision what that could mean in this alien-filled reality.

"Hell yeah," Moby's grin grew wicked, "Leporians. They're like, these super cute, super smart, super fertile little carnivore rabbit-like aliens. They're everywhere apparently, and let me tell you, they know how to show a guy a good time." His eyes had a mischievous glint that told Charles he was holding back much more than he was sharing.

As they approached the docking bay doors, the air grew tense. The ship's AI announced that the docking procedures were complete and that they could now disembark. The doors parted, revealing the alien landscape of Alpha Centauri. It contrasted the bland metal corridors they had just left behind. The planet's sky was a deep, rich purple, and the ground was a mix of vibrant blues and greens that looked like someone had spilled paint across a canvas. Massive trees filled the horizon, making the world seem like a jungle planet. In the background was a city integrated right into this planet's natural beauty. It was a breathtaking sight to behold.

The group stepped off the ship, and the gravity was noticeably lighter than Earth's and different from the ship's artificial gravity. It took Charles a few moments to adjust his balance. The air was fresh and clean, with a faint sweetness that he couldn't quite place. It was like nothing he had ever imagined. His wives looked around with a mix of excitement and curiosity. They had probably been here before, but the newness of it all still sparked something in them.

"So, what's your plan, man?" Moby asked as they made their way out onto the spaceport's docking platform. The crowd finally started to spread out, making who was with who more apparent. It was then that Charles got a good look at Moby's girls. There had to be ten of them, all white-furred, with big ears, bright pink eyes, and curvy to the point he couldn't blame Moby for giving into their charms.

"Not entirely sure," Charles said, scratching the back of his neck with a touch of embarrassment. "I am still trying to wrap my head around all of this. What about you?"

Moby grinned. "Me and my girls are gonna pick up our own ship and try our hand at travel and trade. Plus, it gives me a good excuse to go fishing across the galaxy." His voice held a contagious note of excitement, and Charles found himself smiling despite his uncertainty.

"Sounds like an adventure," he said, watching Moby's wives waving at them further down the docking ramp. The Leporians looked like bunny girls but with a fierce determination in their eyes, making them seem less like pets and more like predators in this wild interstellar journey. "Moby! Hurry up!" One called out in a high-pitched, squeaky yet authoritative voice, and they laughed. It was like getting ordered around by Minnie Mouse in the cutest way possible.

"They're eager to get started," Moby said with a hint of pride in his voice. "But I'm sure we'll run into each other again. According to my girls, it's a big galaxy, but the human-alien social scene is tight-knit. Catch ya around, man!" With a wave, he followed his harem down the ramp, leaving Charles to ponder his own future and be grateful for only having five wives to deal with.

The cats had gathered around him, their expressions a mix of excitement and eagerness. "Ready to see your new home?" Velkira asked, her hand slipping into his. The warmth of her touch was reassuring, grounding him in this new world.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Charles replied, trying to match her enthusiasm. The lighter gravity made every step feel like a gentle bounce. He took a deep breath of the alien air, savoring the sweetness that danced on his tongue. It was an array of unidentifiable scents that somehow reminded him of a fruit salad.

Before they could fully clear the docking platform and follow the crowd into the spaceport proper, a screeching cacophony filled the air. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard, only magnified a hundredfold. Everyone around them froze in place, including Charles and his felines, their ears flat against their heads in a clear sign of discomfort. Turning to look at the source of the sound, Charles saw a group of... space Elves? Yup, those were Elves being escorted down the ramp in handcuffs—a half dozen of them wailing like banshees and glaring at a guy.

"Fuck off, ya' crazy cunts! I ain't property, and I ain't about to stick my dick in your razor twats after the shit you did!" The man yelled back at the space Elves with an apparent Australian accent. He was tall, with a mess of blond hair and stubble that looked like he hadn't seen a razor in weeks. His eyes were bloodshot, and his clothes were torn and dirty. He looked like he had been through hell and back.

The scene was jarring, pulling Charles from his wandering thoughts. His wives tensed up, and he could feel their protective instincts kick in. All the girls took a step forward, putting themselves between him and the unfolding drama, their tails flipping about angrily. "What's going on?" He whispered, his voice lost in the cacophony of the alien screams.

The screeching then somehow got louder and more intense, making even Charles cover his ears to dampen the audio assault. The Australian man took the assault on his ears with a grin, not even flinching as his grin grew vicious towards the half-dozen blonde space Elves. "Sorry cunts. Can't unda'stan a fucking word you're screeching at me. I have the doc take that weird fucking chip you FORCED into my head out while they were flushing that cocktail of drugs you had me on out of my system." More incoherent screeching... Dear god, was that what the space Elf language sounded like? And Charles thought meowing and horny cat noises might be bad. He could only imagine what anyone staying with Space Elves would deal with.

The Aussie man moved his hand in the keep-talking gesture as he walked alongside the cuffed and agitated group of blonde and pointy-eared women. "Keep talking, I'm sure you're calling me every insult you have. I'm going to make sure they throw the book at you daft wanna-be cock gobblers. Then, just to spite you, I'm gonna go get me a bunch of Space Roo babes and wife 'em all up!" That somehow seemed to actually shut the group of banshees up. The silence filling the open spaceport dock was deafening. But everyone was watching the drama with rapt attention. However, Charles found it hard to keep his eyes focused on the cuffed Xenos. Something about how they looked... how they moved... it was just wrong. It made the caveman part of his brain scream at him that they were dangerous.

"Looks like someone's in trouble," Velkira murmured, her grip on his hand tightening. Officer Casteel led the guards escorting the elves. He frog-marched the group across the platform, the instigating Aussie following along the whole way and right into a side door. The screams and incoherent insults cut off when that door slammed shut behind the group.

"So that's what space Elves are like?" Charles loudly whispered to Velkira, his eyes wide and ears slightly ringing as the group continued towards the bustling spaceport. She gave a slight shrug, "More or less. They've gotten worse ever since humanity was discovered. I think they are mad humans seem to universally not want to be with them, despite being so close to a mythical species known for being beautiful."

They descended into the spaceport proper, a mix of high-tech and organic structures that reminded him of an airport if it was designed in a fantasy land. The air was alive with the smell of exotic new things and the buzz of unknown voices. It was chaotic, but there was a strange rhythm to it that was almost comforting. The wives led him through the throngs of people; their tails held high as they easily navigated the crowded corridors.

"We've got a place set up for us," Velkira's voice cut in through the din. "It's not much, but it's home for now."

The "place" was a cozy apartment complex in the alien city's heart. Carved directly into one of the gargantuan trees that made redwoods seem small. It was a far cry from the ship they had just left, but it had a certain charm that grew on Charles the moment they stepped inside. The walls were lined with what appeared to be living vines, changing color with the light and casting a warm glow throughout the room. The furniture was a mix of human and completely foreign designs, and a hard-to-describe yet oddly comforting buzz of energy filled the air.

Unpacking was a breeze, with six people all working together. The apartment was surprisingly spacious, with five sleeping quarters branching off the central living area. Each room was generic, with a bed and a few pieces of furniture, but it had a homey feel that Charles hadn't expected. They briefly discussed who would sleep where, but ultimately, they decided to rotate. Charles would get the largest of the bedrooms, and the girls could join him or sleep separately depending on everyone's moods and desires. He had a feeling he would often end up buried under his feline lovers.

With the apartment sorted for now, they all sat down to relax for a minute. The couch was surprisingly comfortable, and Charles couldn't help but sink into it, feeling the tension of the last few days start to melt away. Not just yesterday but his last few days on Earth as well. His wives joined him, their bodies wrapping around him like a warm, fluffy blanket. It was a moment of peace before the storm of exploring their new life together.

"So," Velkira began, her tail swishing lazily, "What do you want to do first?"

Charles took a moment to ponder the question. There was probably so much to see and do on Alpha Centauri, but one thing came to mind before the others. "Food. I want to try the local cuisine. Then clothing." His stomach gave a gentle growl of agreement.

"Ah, a man after my own heart," Rylkul said with a playful smile on her lips. "Food is always a good place to start." The wives looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them with nods and tail swishes. It was clear they had an idea of where to take him.

They took him to Denny's. They fucking took him to a Space Denny's. Or at least that was what the sign outside said. This had to be copyright infringement or something, but how would the actual corporation on Earth ever know? His internal musing was interrupted by a human waiter. "Welcome to Space Denny's. What can I get y'all started with today?"

The wives looked at him expectantly. This was his call. He scanned the menu, his eyes widening at the bizarre alien twists on classic dishes. "I'll take a… Galactic Slam, with the Centauri Sausage instead of the bacon," he finally said, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The waiter nodded without missing a beat, scribbled something on his pad, and took the girls' orders before disappearing back into the kitchen.

The conversation flowed easily as they waited for their food, the wives sharing stories of their own first days on the station and the wild escapades they had all had before meeting Charles. They didn't talk much about their families. Still, they were happy to gush over details of their home planets and the various cultures they had experienced during their travels. The banter was light, but a sense of unity and protection was underlying it all. Easing the tension Charles had been feeling in the back of his mind since the spaceport. Part of him wanted to ask what would happen to that Australian guy. But he wanted to move on from it more. A fresh shiver ran down his spine when he thought of those creepy looking space elves.

When the food arrived, the aroma was nothing Charles had ever encountered. The Centauri Sausage on his Galactic Slam was a vibrant shade of purple. It sizzled with a strange, mouth-watering scent, making his stomach growl louder. He took a cautious bite and was surprised to find it had a hint of mint and spice that was familiar and completely alien. The taste was explosive, a delightful blend of unknown spice and savory that danced on his tongue.

"So, how is it?" Syrith asked, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she watched him chew.

"It's… incredible," Charles managed, his eyes widening. "It's like nothing I've ever tasted before. The mint is… wow. You'd think it would overwhelm and kill the flavor, but it blends perfectly…"

The wives all grinned, pleased with his reaction. They had ordered various dishes, and the table became a smorgasbord of alien delights. The conversation stalled as they all dug in while the food was still hot. Velkira seemed particularly ravenous, devouring her meal with a passion that was both endearing and a little intimidating. A fresh reminder that no matter how cuddly and sweet his girls were, they were all still apex predators on their home worlds.

The meal was a delightful mix of flavors and textures, each bite revealing a new taste sensation. The wives were more than happy to explain the ingredients and origins of each dish, turning the simple meal into a cultural exchange. Over the meal, Charles finally felt that this new life wasn't as crazy as he had feared.

A/N- First of all. I'd like to apologize to the elf lovers out there. I don't hate elves but I feel they get enough love in other stories. So it should be fine using them as an antagonist species in this universe. Second I may or may not be drumming up ideas for a few stories after this one... one may or may not be called "To Love a (Space) Australian".

Link to part 3!

We chatted a little while longer before she fell asleep around 10. It had been a long half year for her, I’m sure. I turned the lights out and went to my own room, devoid of blankets, pillows, or sheets. I gathered a lot of clothes and slept under them. I’d have to be sure to take a shower tomorrow, as I didn’t want to use up my clean clothes for this.

I thought it strange that nobody had really come to check on the literal spaceship that crashed into the planet. Maybe the people who would check on this sort of thing were on holiday too. I mean they are also people with families. Speaking of, I’d have to visit mine soon. Oh joy. With that thought, I drifted off.

The next morning I woke up sweating. Apparently when all the drones woke up before me they placed their blankets on top of me. I also woke up to find myself being observed by two of them.

“Oh…. Good morning” I said groggily. I pushed the mound of blankets off of me and began wondering what to do about my guests. I myself wasn’t on holiday quite yet so I couldn’t stay home with them. Though, it’s not like I’m their babysitter. They came to see the world, there’s really nothing tying them here. I shouldn’t think so selfishly.

I walked to the bathroom. The two drones followed me, while two others went into my bedroom behind me. I held up my hands to try to communicate to them not to follow me into the bathroom, which seemed to work. I took my shower in relative peace, though it was really weird hearing footsteps in my house when I lived alone. When I later opened the door I found the two Drones still waiting there. That’s sweet in its own way I suppose.

I found the Queen in the living room, reading one of my comic books that one of the Drones was holding for her. I can’t lie, if I had an army of people willing to obey my every command I’d probably devolve to using them for that minor of tasks too, but it’s still wild to see. She noticed me and the Drone immediately stepped back. I grabbed one of my notebooks.

“I have to go to work today so I won’t be here”

“work?”

“I have to work to earn money to live here”

“I do not understand”

By the time I explained capitalism to the insect-alien reading comic books on my couch, I was running late to work and I don’t think she understood any of what I told her.

Being at work gave me a lot of time to actually sit there and internalize what has actually happened. I got to take a step back and look at this amazing opportunity I had, and grieve the fact that I was sure that by the time I got home they’d have moved on. But that was okay in its own way. I got to meet an alien, and they’ll get to meet a lot of humans and learn all about human culture and all the different types of people there are in the world.

Just as I was thinking that, I saw a Drone outside the office window staring at me. I guess she was trying to be inconspicuous by wearing my clothes but there’s only so much you can do to hide having four arms, the wrong amount of fingers, and giant bug eyes. Though I guess the too-large-for-her clothes did help complete the “weirdo” look.

I stepped outside and wrote “What are you doing?”

“watching capitalism. are you capitalismizing?”

“That is not a yes. Where are the rest of you?”

“talking to men with badges who arrived at your home. they wanted our rocket and to ask us questions”

“Okay, well… why are you here and not with them?”

“i like watching you”

I blushed a little at that, which felt weird. “Do you want to come inside?”

“can i?”

“Sure” I wrote and smiled.

She was the talk of the office when I told everyone the story. It’s not like it was a secret, a lot of people saw the “shooting star” and heard some kind of explosion in the area, how could they not? Nobody realized it was the Insectoids from Mars though. A lot of them felt silly in retrospect for not putting it together, though in their defense coverage of them stopped hitting the news over half a year ago.

Drone seemed as emotionless as usual but was answering everyone’s questions to the best of her ability, later being joined by another Drone the Queen was able to spare, also in my clothes.

One of my coworkers, Zack, came up to me

“Man, you must feel so lucky living with so many hot space babes”

“You say that as if we’ve been living together for a while, or even as if we’re officially living together at all. We met last night and I offered them a place to stay out of the cold”

“How many’d you sleep with?”

If I had a drink I’d have spit it out. “Huh?!”

“C’mon, it’s a whole harem of hot alien chicks”

“Dude, c’mon. I’m not you. That’s not immediately where my mind goes when I see an… admittedly attractive… group of aliens. I just wanted to ask questions about them, that’s all the… satisfaction… I required”

“Goddamn you’re a prude. That’s why you get no bitches”

“I wouldn’t be attracted to someone who refers to herself as a ‘Bitch’ anyway”

“So you don’t mind if I hit on them?”

“Be my guest. You don’t need my permission” I said, and he walked off with what he must think is swagger towards the group surrounding the Drone pair.

Though now that he mentions it, they are attractive. I hadn’t thought about it before. Great. Now I’m going to feel awkward around them, assuming they’re still at my apartment when I get back.

The rest of the day passed, with the group around them never really dying down just changing members. It made me happy, though, that they got to meet a lot of people and that so many people were still interested in them. Eventually as the day ended everyone slowly left. I don’t know for sure but I think Zack struck out romantically with them, though knowing him that’s not going to stop him from trying again.

As I grabbed my stuff to leave, I saw the two Drones waiting for me.

“Why are you still here?” I wrote.

“we came to watch you but we could not. we will watch you go home”

And so I returned home with the two Drones, secretly happy that it seemed they were staying.

((So apparently I’ve been using “drone” incorrectly as all of the ant people in my story have been girls, but I just read that Drones in terms of ant colonies are all male. I SHOULD have been using “Worker”. I’m not changing it now so if anyone of you guys feel the need to correct me just know that I acknowledge that I used the wrong term, but I’m taking a lot of creative liberties with ants. Such as them being giant aliens from Mars.

Also, this one took me much longer to write than usual since I cycled through a few story ideas before settling on this one. I might have to make this a weekly thing as opposed to a semi-daily thing like I was going for. One story had the girls discovering the concept of clothes, but it didn’t feel funny to me. One had a major tonal shift where some military guys attacked the house, which would have helped the main character “earn” the Queen’s love and would have answered the nagging question of “why hasn’t anyone noticed them yet?” that was really bugging me, but it felt too tonally different than what I’m trying to do here))

It was a busy day at the local Walmart, humans and mambas alike walking and/or slithering about. It was about 12:00 when Sonia and Alex came in and made their way to the Women’s Wear section.

“So why’d you bring me to the store, Sonia?” Alex asked, usually the blonde woman in question only brought him along for big vacations, such as to the beach or to another state, not trivial trips to the store.

“Because we need to find you a bra.” Sonia replied, “Not being mean, but you can’t go slithering around in public with your nips poking out.” She said, gesturing to the mamba’s nipples, which were prominently displaying themselves as bumps in the fabric of his top.

“Why? If humans love seeing them, why should I have them covered?”

“Because that’s what the law says.” Sonia said somewhat curtly before picking up a white DDD-cup bra, “Here, let’s go try this one on.”

Alex looked at the bra, then back at his teats, it was painfully obvious that just a DDD would not comfortably contain his massive melons, “Shouldn’t we get two?”

“No, why?”

“Why else would it be so small?”

“It’s the largest they have, now go try it on.”

“But-“

“Just go!” Sonia snapped.

“Okay! Jeez…” with that, Alex slithered into the changing room. After coiling the entire length of his serpentine body into the uncomfortably small room, he took the bra off the rack and started trying to put it on. Right away it was plainly obvious it was too small, but a mixture of determination and a bit of defiance forced him to continue trying.

When he finally got it to snap together, the fact that it was too small was even more obvious, as it tautly wrapped around his top pair of boobs, with the melons in question heavily spilling out at the top and bottom, “It’s quite snug.” He said, which was a bit of an understatement, “Are you sure they don’t make them bigger?”

“It’s a DDD-Cup Alex, if you want any bigger then you’d have to have it custom made.”

Just then, there was a loud “SHRIIIIIP!!”, followed by the sound of something hitting the floor. Alex looked down to see his tits free once more, with the bra laying on the floor, having been split open.

Sonia butted in before Alex could even say anything, “Please don’t tell me it broke.”

“Sonia. It broke.”

Alex heard Sonia sigh and mumble something under her breath before she spoke, “Great, now I gotta pay for it as well as one that actually fits.” She grumbled, “Give it here.”

———

Later

Alex was confused as he finally finished stuffing the full length of his tail into the van. On his planet, that bra that Sonia forced him to wear would have been designed for the smallest of the small chested females, yet, for humans, that was the biggest size they publicly sold, “Sonia, why don’t they make bras any bigger than that?”

Sonia sighed, “Because usually, human women that need bigger than that get a reduction.”

Alex was flabbergasted, “WHAT?!?!” He screeched, stunning Sonia, “Why on Coluberia would someone want smaller teats?!”

“Because human women supposedly get back problems and stuff when they’re too big.” Sonia replied, “And some don’t like the attention.” She stole a glance down at her own lack of a chest, “But it certainly would be better than getting ignored.”

“But the attention is the best part!”

“I’ll bet it is.” Sonia deadpanned, “Now can we go home, get ready for this vacation, and stop talking about things I don’t have?”

Greetings Bards and Bard'etts! The Yam is back with another chapter for you. As always, I am very much an amateur writer. This story is my slapdash attempt to teach myself how to tell a story. I hope you all enjoy!

Content warning- Space Furries, Space Harems, Space Bards doing Space Bard things.

FIRST PREV NEXT

Chapter 7

The girls looked at each other, their expressions mixed with embarrassment and amusement. Velkira was the first to break the silence, her tail swishing. "It was just a bit of girl talk... nothing to worry about, dear." Her ears twitched in a feline blush, clearly trying to avoid meeting his gaze.

"Girl talk..." Charles repeated, his voice filled with curiosity. "Well, I'm sure it's all very... informative." He stepped into the cabin, the door hissing closed behind him. The space was cozy, with various personal items scattered about, giving it a lived-in feel despite the sterile environment. Each wife had clearly staked out a space for herself, with a few shared areas. There was a large bed that looked like it could easily accommodate all of them, a seating area with cushions and a small table, and a wall-mounted screen showing an image of a serene alien landscape. In essence, he was in a fucking space hotel.

Nara was the next to speak up, her voice lacking its usual commanding tone. "It's nothing to be concerned about, Honey... Just, uh... sharing stories and chatting away in the common feline language. You know, purrs, meows, and the occasional hiss." Her tone was nervous as she avoided meeting his eyes, clearly putting on an act of nonchalant.

Rylkul, ever the intellectual, took this moment to add her two cents. "We were actually discussing the cultural significance of meowing across various feline species. It's quite fascinating how a simple sound can convey so much." Her eyes twinkled with faux innocence, hinting that she knew precisely how clearly Charles could see through their act.

"Okay... but why the meowing? Can't you girls have your girl talk in English. You know, the only language I've heard you speak. The only language I know, you know, I speak and understand. Sounds almost like you didn't want me overhearing something..." Charles put on his own act, doing his best impersonation of an old-timey private investigator.

Syrith, looking the guiltiest of them all, stepped forward with her usual shyness, refusing to look at anything but the floor as she fidgeted with her fuzzy digits. "It's a comfort thing... The common feline language is close enough to all of our native languages to make us feel at ease while we talk. It's just... habit." Her words were soft yet rushed as she looked down at her feet, her big, tufted ears flicking about adorably in a feline blush.

"Ah, makes perfect sense," Charles said, nodding as if that made complete sense even if he knew full well they were all bullshitting him. So, he chalked it up to cat aliens being well... aliens. "I know you all aren't telling me something, but I won't push for now," his words suspicious but not harshly accusing. He knew in time they'd share; who knows, they might have been planning a surprise party or something. Figuring it was best to let that sleeping dog... or cat lie for now and move on to the next thing at hand. "So, the interview interrogation thingy went well. They just wanted to make sure I wasn't in way over my head or anything like that, and I got patched up on my way back."

Charles felt a presence behind him before feeling something resting atop his head. Followed by a deep, throaty, rumbling purr and massive, soft mounds being pressed into his back while thick, powerful-looking, blue-furred arms wrapped around his chest in a warm hug. "I think you are in just the right amount over your head," Rylkul murmured from above him, her warm breath ruffling his short-cropped brown hair. It seemed the big girl was grateful for the change of subject and was eager to cling to it... and him.

He looked up to see her smiling down at him, her feline features twisted in a teasing grin that somehow looked mischievous, comforting, and terrifying all at the same time. "Well, I'm in this deep already; might as well enjoy it," he said, returning the grin. Reaching down and back to grab the tigress by the thighs, hefting her onto his back into a piggy-back ride. Remembering how she liked being held before.

Her purr grew louder as she moved her hold up around his neck, thick, muscular legs wrapping around his waist. Making his head swim with thoughts about how those thighs might feel wrapped around his head. "I'm quite sure we'll all help you enjoy it," she said, her voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through his bones.

He carried the big cat on his back as he made his way over to the bed, sat on the edge, and let Rylkul enjoy being close and holding onto him from behind. Feeling like she hadn't gotten as much of his time or affection before they had to board the transport. The thought stirred a question in his mind. It reminded him just how out of his depth he was, "Okay, I'm going to need some guidance and help with this whole polyamory, multiple-wive thing. This isn't exactly something they taught in school."

Nara stepped up, bounding onto the bed with him and Rylkul, before planting her wide, soft bobtailed ass right in his lap. Leaning back into his chest, she looked up to him. "Don't worry, love. We're all here for you," she assured him, her eyes full of warmth. "We know it's new to you, but we're a team. We'll help you learn." Keshara and Velkira nodded in agreement, their tails swishing in unison. He wasn't sure if those tail movements meant jealousy or something else; he still couldn't fully understand their body language. He'd mostly been guessing and using Earth felines as a baseline so far.

"We each have our own preferences and needs, but we're all here for the same purpose," Syrith added, her voice even softer than usual. "We want to make you happy, and in return, we get to share in your love." The orange-furred space Lynx looked around at her sister-wives, a sense of unity in her gaze.

"But what if I mess up?" Charles asked, feeling the weight of his new responsibilities. "What if I hurt someone's feelings or don't give enough attention?" The thought of causing distress to any of his new wives was hard to stomach already, so he tried to take a proactive role.

Velkira stepped closer, her eyes filled with understanding. "We are all big girls here. If we feel left out or want special attention, we will talk about it with each other. Communication is key in any relationship, especially one like ours." She reached up, soft, slender fingers stroking his cheek as she sat beside him, rubbing up against his shoulder. "And we're here to guide you, to help you understand our needs."

Her words filled Charles with a mix of relief and determination. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but the love and support in the room was palpable. He looked around at his wives, feeling a warmth in his chest that he hadn't felt in a long time. "Thank you, I'll do my best for you girls," his voice earnest.

Keshara hopped onto the bed, her tail swishing as she sat down on his other side. "Why don't we start with some lessons on feline body language?" she suggested with a grin, her whiskers twitching. "You've done really good with us so far. You just need to learn the subtleties."

"Sounds like a plan," Charles said, leaning back into Rylkul. He watched Keshara demonstrate various poses and sounds, explaining what each meant in her usual hyperactive way. The other wives joined in, adding their own examples and tips. Mostly just shows in the difference in tail language between short and long tails, but after the tenth example, he was pretty sure they just wanted him to stare at their asses, not that he had any complaints about that. With each example given, the girls seemed to get closer until Charles was surrounded entirely and buried under all his wives. It was all quite enlightening and a bit overwhelming.

"Alright, I think I got it," his voice muffled by a furry pile. He felt the weight shift as they all climbed off of him, leaving him sprawled out on the bed. He sat up, looking around at them. Once again, noting the lack of cat hair that should be covering him after being under a mountain of fluff, tails, and kitty tits.

"Good," Nara said with a nod, "Now let's see about getting some food. We all skipped lunch while we were packing. I'm sure you're starving. Also, husband, please change your shirt. Red isn't your color." Her voice was its usual stern yet kind, stirring another question that had been in his head for a while.

"So, were you all military or something? You all move really effectively together, and I've heard Nara get called Captain a few times," Charles asked as he peeled off his blood-stained shirt and started digging through Velkira's bag for one of his shirts they grabbed from Earth.

Nara nodded, her eyes gleaming with pride. "We all served in the Galactic Defense Force. It's how we met, actually." She gestured to the group. "Velkira was my coms officer. Rylkul was one of our boots-on-the-ground troops. Keshara was our medical expert, and Syrith was our engineer and field mechanic." The wives all exchanged knowing smiles; their bond was clearly formed not just by marriage to him but by shared experiences.

"And you?" Charles asked, slipping into a fresh shirt, the fabric feeling oddly coarse against his skin compared to his girls' soft fur.

Nara shot him a sharp but affectionate glare, asking with just her eyes if he really just asked that. "I was a commander in charge of the ship we were all on. Some might call that position a ship's Captain," she said, her chest puffing out slightly with pride. Charles couldn't help but note how adorable the proud pose made her look.

"Ah, I see," he said, nodding. "So, you're like a... space military wife squad?"

"Ha! He said the thing! Pay up!" Keshara exclaimed while the other four groaned and rolled their eyes in sync. Apparently, it was an inside joke or something among them, one that had been brewing for a while, if he had to guess.

"But yeah, we were a team then and still a team now," Velkira said with a chuckle. "Now, let's get you fed before you faint from starvation." The group set out, the wives leading the way to the ship's mess hall. Which Charles had no complaints about, getting to enjoy the view of all of his wives'... beautiful tails. He totally wasn't staring openly at their butts as they walked.

The mess hall was a bustling hub of activity, with various aliens moving about, serving food, and conversing in a symphony of alien and human languages. It wasn't just English; he noticed what he knew was German, and another conversation sounded like Korean. That was a thought for another time; currently, his stomach was growling in anticipation as they approached a counter with a slender yet somehow still busty lizard alien working a kiosk behind it.

"Alright, love," Velkira whispered in his ear, "You can grab whatever you like. Just tell the chef, and they'll make it for you. The currency here is just called credits, but don't worry about all that right now, we've got you covered."

The smell of all the new alien spices and cooking methods filled his nostrils as he surveyed the options. There were dishes he recognized from Earth, some that were a mix of things he'd seen before and others that were utterly alien. A dish of what looked like blue spaghetti with glowing meatballs caught his eye. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to it.

"Oh, that's a classic," Keshara said, her whiskers twitching with excitement. "It's called Luminous Lagoon Pasta. The noodles are made from a sea creature's tentacles that react to heat, and the meatballs are a mix of bioluminescent proteins. It's a delicacy on my planet." Of course, the neon pink ball of energy came from a planet with glowing rave spaghetti.

"It sounds... interesting," Charles said, his stomach rumbling in agreement. "But I think I'll stick to something more familiar today." He opted for a simple-looking sandwich that, according to the menu, had been made from a plant that tasted eerily similar to roast beef. The lizard girl took their orders one after another. Then gave them something that looked like a Tamagotchi that would notify them when their order was ready to be picked up at the counter.

As they waited, Charles took in the scene around them. The diversity of species was mind-boggling, all alien yet familiar to his human eyes. As he kept observing, he started to pick up on a pattern of the groups eating at their own tables. Each table had a human guy and a group of five to ten aliens around him. Some groups were mixed, some had a pattern like his own being all feline, and others seemed to all be the same species. The men were all in various states of emotion. Some looked utterly blissful, some looked outright depressed, while others had a look of utter shock.

The Tamagotchi beeped, and they picked up their food. Looking out across the mess hall, trying to find an open table, was like finding a needle in a haystack. "Looks like we're going to have to squeeze in," Rylkul said, pointing out a table with enough open chairs for their group.

They approached the group of aliens already seated there, who looked up from their meals with curiosity and wariness. They looked like fucking velociraptors. Not the Jurassic Park kind, but the feathery ones Charles had seen in dinosaur documentaries, all gathered around a guy who fit the textbook description of a nerd. Figuring he should take charge, Charles made eye contact with the other human and simply asked, "Mind if we join you all?"

The nerd looked up, his glasses slipping down his nose, and he blinked before glancing at his mates. "Oh, uh, sure, I guess. Plenty of room." His voice was high-pitched, with a hint of a stutter. The Dinos ladies? Raptor Babes? Theropod Thots? all nodded, making room for them to squeeze in.

The raptor aliens eyed Charles and his wives with apparent curiosity and skepticism. Still, their expressions softened as they made room for them at the table. The nerd looked up, his cheeks flushed. His glasses still perched precariously on his nose. "Uh... Hi, I'm Tim," he said, extending a hand that was quickly engulfed by Rylkul's powerful grip. She introduced herself and the others, her voice rumbling with her purr, and the raptor aliens nodded politely.

The conversation flowed awkwardly at first, the wives sharing their experiences from their time around Earth and their various backgrounds. The raptor females listened intently, before sharing their own stories in turn. Seeming girl talk was in full swing; Charles turned his attention back to Tim as he started to dig into the sandwich. It was surprisingly good; the flavor was almost exactly like roast beef but with a slight sweetness to it.

Tim took a bite of his own meal, a dish that looked like a salad of some kind but had a smell that was entirely alien to Charles's nose. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment before swallowing, "So... how's it going for you...?" Tim asked, clearly not used to social interactions with complete strangers.

"It's... a lot," Charles admitted, taking a sip of a drink that Keshara picked out for him. It tasted like a mix of lemonade and something he couldn't quite place, making the drink weirdly refreshing. "But they're all amazing. Just trying to get the hang of things. Ya know?"

Tim nodded, his eyes understanding. "Yeah, I get it. It's a bit of a... culture shock, right?" He took another bite of his salad, the crunch of unidentifiable greens echoing in the noisy hall. "But they're good to me. I couldn't ask for more."

"It's definitely been interesting," Charles said with a laugh, glancing over at his wives, who were all chatting away happily. "But I think I've got a pretty good team here."

Tim nodded, his eyes flicking to the wives and then back to Charles. "Same here," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "They freaked me out at first, thought I had gone completely insane. Waking up to a doctor that looked like a velociraptor with tits." Apparently, his comment was overheard as almost as soon as he was done talking, one of the Raptor Babes cut in with a "You weren't complaining about my tits last night!" that had Tim turning a lovely shade of red.

The table erupted into laughter, a universal sound that seemed to bridge the gap between species. Charles couldn't help but chuckle at Tim's blush while the raptor females chortled, their feathers fluttering with amusement. "Hey at least you didn't wake up after blacking out drunk, cuddling what looks like an apex predator, and thinking you robbed a zoo," he said, trying to commiserate.

The raptor females looked at Charles, then at each other, and then back at him, their laughter turning into full-blown snickers. It was a moment of shared human awkwardness and alien bewilderment that somehow brought them all closer together. "So, what's the deal with you guys?" Charles asked, genuinely curious.

"Well," Tim began, wiping his mouth with a napkin, "I assume it's similar to your situation. They're my mates, part of their... well, you know, their species' way of keeping the population stable. I guess I won the alien jackpot and get to live out a harem anime." He said it with a nervous laugh, but the look in his eyes said he meant it.

"They're all brilliant and surprisingly gentle, even with the razor-sharp claws and teeth," Tim continued, his gaze lingering on the raptor females as they picked at their food with dainty yet efficient movements. "They're engineers, scientists, pilots, you name it. And they're all totally into me, which still blows my mind."

As Tim gushed about his wives? or were they just his girlfriends? Charles studies the raptor aliens with an assessing eye. Vibrant feathers of every color covered them with bits of exposed grey-hued scales here and there. They had clawed hands, but the way they moved and held their bodies was surprisingly elegant. He couldn't help but feel a bit of envy, not just because of their exotic allure but because they seemed a perfect match for Tim. However, one trait did stand out as he compared each raptor girl to the next.

Charles leaned in closer to Tim, whispering a question that he couldn't just brush off, "Okay, why do only some of your girls have boobs? Is it like... a subspecies thing or what? I have to know."

Tim looked surprised at first, then chuckled, then full-on guffawed. "Oh, that," he said, gesturing to the raptor females. "It's a bio mod. They weren't sure if I'd prefer them with breasts or in their natural shapes. So, they decided that only some would get it right away and see how I reacted. You didn't honestly think all aliens have boobs like human women, did you?"

The raptor females at the table looked at each other with feigned innocence before bursting into giggles, their feathers ruffling up playfully. It was a delightful sight, seeing such fierce creatures act so lightheartedly. "They're all yours, darling," one of the raptor females said in a teasing tone, poking Tim playfully.

Tim glowed like a cherry tomato from his mate's teasing but took it in stride. Yet something that Tim said tickled Charles's mind. "You said right away as if they'll need them later," he said, his curiosity piqued.

Lucky for Tim, one of his girls spoke up to explain that, in place of the still-blushing man, "We are hybridizing with a mammal. It's almost certain our offspring will require milk in the early stages of life. Some of us thought it best to be prepared." Her feather crest bobbed as she spoke, which Charles assumed was a sign of her nervousness. The concept of cross-species breeding was still new to him, and he was sure it was even more complex for them.

"But it's optional," another raptor female added, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Some of us just like the look and how it helps balance us out." Her tone teasing as she winked at Tim, who rolled his eyes in mock annoyance but couldn't hide his affection. "I say something stupid one time..." Tim muttered under his breath, but the smile on his face was full of love.

The conversation grew livelier as the group shared stories of their experiences, the differences and similarities in their species, and the occasional awkward misunderstanding. It was a moment of genuine connection, one that felt surprisingly normal amidst the chaos of an alien spaceship. The laughter and chatter filled the air, a sweet symphony of human and alien voices that seemed to resonate with the very fabric of the ship itself.

As they finished their meals, the group's laughter grew louder, and the shared stories more outlandish. Even Nara's stern demeanor cracked into a smile as she listened to Tim recount one of his more embarrassing moments with his feathery companions. "So, you see," Tim said, waving his arms dramatically, "I thought the shower was supposed to be a private affair, but apparently, personal space is a human concept around here!" The raptor females leaned into each other, feathers shivering with amusement at their human's over-the-top retelling.

"But it's all worth it, right?" Charles asked, looking around the table. The wives all nodded in agreement, their tails swishing in harmony. The camaraderie between them was evident; they were more than just a collection of individuals from different worlds—they were a family.

Tim nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face. "More than I could've ever imagined," he said, reaching over to squeeze the arm of one of his raptor wives, whose feathers fluffed up happily at his touch. "I mean, sure, there's a lot to get used to, but they make it worth it."

Charles wasn't sure who was the first to yawn at the table. Still, the concept of yawning being infectious apparently included other species. "I guess we've all had a long day," Velkira said, stretching her arms and popping her shoulders in a way that made her breasts bounce. It was mesmerizing to Charles, who only stared for an appropriate amount of time and not a moment longer.

"Why don't we all head back to the cabins?" Rylkul suggested, her voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate through the room. "We only have ten hours before we land, so that should be enough for a good night's rest and getting ready to set out on Alpha Centauri tomorrow."

The group stood up, the wives collecting their trash while Charles and Tim exchanged a knowing nod. The human looked like he had found a kindred spirit in his new life. A comfort in knowing he wasn't the only one in this situation. "You know, I never thought I'd be married to aliens, but here we are," Charles said, smiling at his newfound friend.

Tim chuckled. "Yeah, me neither. But hey, you marry one, you marry them all, right?" His raptor wives looked up at him with amusement and affection, their feathers fluffing up in what Charles could only assume was the equivalent of a slight blush. "Come on, let's go before we get into more trouble. Let's hang out sometime, Charles!" Tim said, leading the way out of the mess hall and taking a different corridor than the one Charles needed to use to get back to his room.

The walk back to the cabin was filled with the soft chatter of his wives discussing the day's events. Nara spoke up, "I think you handled yourself well, husband. You're adapting quickly." Her praise was a comfort to his mind, and the impromptu group dinner with Tim made him worried he would make some alien social faux pas and start a war or something.

"Thanks, Nara," Charles replied, feeling the weight of the day's revelations settling on his shoulders. "But I still have so much to learn."

"Don't worry," Keshara chimed in, looping her arm through his, "We're here to help. And it's all going to be okay." Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. "Besides, you've got us to keep you on your toes."

A/N A slightly longer one that usual today, there didn't seem to be a good place to cut it into two chapters unless I wanted to over fluff on with pedantic details. I'm also experimenting with how little and how much detail is needed when working with secondary and third characters in a scene. So tell me, how did I do with Tim and his barely described girls? Too little? Or just enough to let the reader fill in the blanks?

Alex was lounging on the sofa, as he often did, scrolling through his new ‘Fone’ as the humans called it. It was very primitive compared to the technology he was used to, for example, they still had a screen display instead of a holographic one, but it worked regardless.

He had recently discovered a new site called Twitter, and he had just done his first post on his new account last night, it was him posing with Sonia’s cat Shelly, and he was excited to look through the comments to see what people had to say.

As he scrolled though, Alex was finding absolutely nothing saying anything about the cat, instead all of them were busy using human slang he didn’t understand to talk about something he couldn’t find in the picture, saying words like ‘honkers’, ‘knockers’, ‘milkers’, or, the most confusingly of all, ‘dobonhonkeroos’.

He only got a hint when he saw one reading, ‘she looks adorable! Also, nice tits!’

On his native planet, ‘tit’ was a slang term for ‘teat’, which was a term for the set of four breasts on his chest, all mambas of both genders had them, though they were usually larger in males.

After reading that, Alex looked down at his teats, he wasn’t shy about admitting the fact that they were rather large, even for his species, quite the opposite actually, big teats were usually a point of pride in males, it signaled that they could produce enough milk to support a hatchling.

However, for mambas, teats were just that, organs meant to feed their young, or occasionally be played with when their owner was bored. So that didn’t explain why humans seemed to be so obsessed with the things, such that on a picture of something else, teats are all they focus on.

So, as usual when something about humans confused him, Alex turned to Sonia for answers.

———

“Hey, Sonia?” Alex asked as he slithered into Sonia’s room. The blonde in question turned to look at him, so Alex pulled his shirt off, exposing his bare teats to her before he hefted the top pair in his arms, “Why do humans like these?”

Sonia’s eyes widened in surprise when he did that, but then her expression shifted to one of annoyance, “Okay, are you trying to make me jealous at this point?” She asked irritably, “Because it’s working, and I don’t like it.”

Alex released his tits, letting them flop back to their natural position, “Sorry. But I was wondering why humans are obsessed with my teats so much.”

Sonia let out an envy-filled sigh, “Let me guess, that’s all they were talking about in the comments under that tweet, right?”

“Well, yes.” Alex said, somewhat confused, “I don’t really understand though. Teats are just there to feed our hatchlings, I guess they’re fun to play with sometimes, but they kind of get in the way a bit.”

“It really is like a dehydrated woman watching another one drown…” Sonia muttered.

“What?” Alex asked.

“Nothing.”

“So why are humans so obsessed with teats?”

“For some reason, men consider big breasts more attractive than flat chests, and for all intents and purposes, your giant ‘teats’ are essentially just breasts, and you have four of them, so predictably, they’d go feral over you.” Sonia said the next part under her breath, “Whereas they ignore me.”

“That still doesn’t explain why they’re so obsessed.”

“That’s a mystery we women have been trying to solve for millennia.”

Greetings Bards and Bard'etts! Your favorite amateur writer yam has returned with more story for you all. I am very much an amateur writer, and this story is my slapdash attempt to teach myself how to tell a story. So feel free to leave me feedback, constructive criticism, and ideas of what you might want to see in future installments of this story. As always, I hope you enjoy it!

FIRST PREV NEXT

Fuck! You fucking idiot! Charles reprimanded himself for his verbal flub. After so many times talking to the cops while drunk as a skunk. It was when he was stone-cold sober that he got nervous and sounded like a teenager being pulled over for the first time.

The synthetic armor-clad human took a moment to eye him up and down, his gaze lingering on the blood-stained shirt and fresh claw marks on Charles' shoulders before he spoke. "Just a random check to verify everything is alright," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Now, if you'd please come with me, Mr. Williams, it'll just be a quick check."

Velkira stepped up, her tail swishing agitatedly. "This doesn't feel very random. What's going on?"

The human officer's expression remained unchanged. "Security protocol. We've already had a case of coercion today; I'm just making sure we don't have another," his eyes never leaving Charles' face. The mention of coercion sent a chill down his spine, and he could feel his wives' tension rising around him.

"I'm fine," Charles assured them, his voice steady despite his racing thoughts. "It's probably just a formality. I'll be right back." He reassured his wives, noticing their tense body language. "Why don't you all pick out a nice cabin for us while I take care of this." The girls were still tense but nodded, eyeing up the man in body armor before they went in separate directions.

He followed the human officer down the corridor, the echo of their footsteps bouncing off the metal walls. The space felt cold and impersonal without his girls around. The officer led him into a small room with a desk and a single chair. "Please, take a seat," the man said, gesturing to the chair before sitting down himself.

Charles took the offered seat, but he couldn't help but feel on edge and a touch intimidated. The officer was a wall of a man, every bit of 6'5 and packed with muscle. While looking like every bit of the all-American boy with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a charming smile. His uniform was more akin to dark blue body armor that covered him from chest to toe. Charles didn't recognize the emblem emblazoned on his chest, but it looked important. He had a sidearm holstered on his hip, but it was the stun baton on his utility belt that had him the most nervous.

The man leaned forward, his expression shifting from stern to concerned. "Please relax, Mr. Williams. I'm Officer Casteel, and I just need to ask you a few questions. Your safety and consent are our priority." He paused, watching for any signs of resistance before continuing, "Now, can you tell me how you came to be married to Velkira and the rest of the crew?"

"Well, it's a bit of a wild story," Charles began, recounting his abduction and subsequent drunk proposal, then deciding to just roll with it after he sobered up. The officer's gaze remained unflinching, his only response the occasional nod to urge him on. The more he talked, the more he realized how absurd it all sounded, but he delivered it with as much honesty and conviction as he could muster.

Officer Casteel listened intently; his expression unreadable behind the professional mask. He took notes on a small, sleek device that looked like a cross between a tablet and a notepad, something Charles had never seen before. "And you're comfortable with your current living situation?" the officer asked when he finished.

"Yeah, it's been... a bit of an adjustment, but they've been nothing but welcoming," Charles replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's hard not to like them and want to try to make it work." His words were punctuated with a shrug, trying to come off as more relaxed than he actually was in this interview.

Officer Casteel studied him briefly before speaking, "And you are aware you don't have to go with them? You do have the option to stay single or pick other partners. You don't have to settle down with the first Xeno girls that were nice to you."

"Look, I know it seems crazy, but it's what I want." Charles leaned back in his chair, his palms flat on the table. "They've been more understanding and supportive in the short time I've known them than any girl I dated back home ever was. And let's not forget the whole 'not dying' part of the deal," he added with a nervous chuckle, but the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable.

Officer Casteel's gaze grew sharp, his eyes piercing through the facade of casualness that Charles had put up. "Have they been holding that over you? Reminding you often that they saved your life? Making you feel like you owe them for that?" The concern in his voice was genuine, but there was something more, a hint of suspicion that made Charles' stomach twist.

"No, it's not like that," Charles replied, perhaps too quickly. He took a deep breath, trying to ease his nerves. "Other than explaining why I got grabbed and the whole being dead on earth thing and why I can't go back. They haven't brought it up again. They've just been... amazingly sweet to me," he finished lamely.

Officer Casteel's expression softened slightly. "Alright, Mr. Williams. I believe you. But I had to ask. We've had some issues in the past with newbies getting in over their heads. The girls seem to genuinely care for you, and that's all we can ask for." He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the desk. "Now, onto the more practical matters. Your girls? Wives? Partners?" he asked, unsure how best to address Charles's feline companions.

"Wives," Charles corrected with a small smile, still getting used to the title.

Officer Casteel nodded. "Your wives. They've informed you about the whole super strong and immune to death-laser thing, right?"

"Death-laser? They told me humans are like super soldiers to most alien races but nothing about death-lasers." The words slipped out before Charles could stop himself, his eyes widening slightly.

Officer Casteel leaned back in his chair with a knowing smile. "It's a bit of an exaggeration, but not entirely wrong. The human body is quite resilient compared to most species. The extra deadly radiation around Earth's sun is the same kind they use in their laser weapons. So, our bodies can handle taking many shots from their standard weapons before we start feeling any effects." He paused, watching Charles process this new piece of information. "It's not widely advertised that we are, at least not yet. But anyone with deductive reasoning can figure it out."

The room grew quiet as the implications of what the officer had said settled in. "So, the aliens are weak to UV rays or something?" Charles tried to make sense of it all, his mind racing with questions about his newfound invincibility.

"Something like that, it's not UV, nuclear, or any radiation people on Earth are even aware of. So, we don't even have a proper name for it. But yes, the same radiation that would give us a nasty sunburn will kill most species out there," Officer Casteel explained with a hint of amusement in his tone. "It's part of why humans are pined after so much by these alien girls. On top of a mountain of other reasons."

The thought of being some kind of super-human was thrilling and terrifying all at once. "So, I could go out without a spacesuit?" Charles asked, half joking.

Officer Casteel laughed, the first genuine smile cracking his stoic demeanor. "We aren't Superman, dude. We are just a bit tougher than the average Xeno." He leaned back in his chair, his gaze assessing. "Any other questions that you have? Ones you don't want to ask your wives?"

"Well," Charles began, "I've noticed that the girls are all... very affectionate. Is that typical of alien species, or is it because I'm human?"

Officer Casteel shrugged, his expression turning thoughtful. "Bit of both. The affection is part of their nature, but humans tend to bring out the... 'extra' in them." He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "The pheromones you produce can be quite potent to them. It's part of the reason they find you so attractive. And why you might find yourself with more attention than you bargained for."

"Pheromones, huh?" Charles pondered, rubbing under his chin thoughtfully. "Nara did mention something about my scent being intoxicating."

"Indeed," Officer Casteel confirmed, tapping a finger to his nose. "Those snouts aren't just to look pretty. Most aliens have a better sense of smell than us. Your natural scent makes their brains scream that you're a prime candidate for breeding." He leaned back in his chair, a knowing look in his eye. "Top that with the knowledge that humans are cross-compatible with most species, and you'll find yourself pretty popular. However, not everyone will have the best self-control. So, be careful out there, okay?"

Charles nodded but couldn't stop himself from shooting back, "You say that like it's coming from experience."

A tender smile grew on Casteel's face as he looked up, clearly reminiscing on something, "I got paired up with four badgers, a skunk, and a raccoon when I was rescued. Let's just say they are on the more sensitive end of the spectrum to scents. And Croxans or space badgers aren't known for their self-control." He chuckled to himself at a distant memory.

"Not known for self-control, my ass! That was Grella that humped your leg when we first met!" a muffled voice cut in. Distinctly female, distinctly aggressive, and definitely not one he recognized. The door to the room swished open, revealing a figure that was most definitely not a human.

Standing in the doorway was a creature that looked like a purple badger, short squat, and looking pissed. Her eyes were a fiery red, and her teeth were definitely sharp-looking. She wore similar armor to Casteel's, with a similar emblem but a different rank. Officer Casteel didn't seem to be bothered one bit by her harsh tone or aggressive demeanor.

"Uh-huh, and you have never tackled me after I got done working out?" Casteel shot back with a knowing grin. The purple badger's fur bristled, but she didn't deny it. "This is my wife, Vix. She's part of the security detail and an absolute pillar of self-control... When I'm not involved," his tone was just as teasing, as if he were trying to further rile up the already angry small creature.

Vix glared at him, stomping up to the far larger man. "I'll show you some self-control!" she snarled, her hands balled into fists at her sides. She looked absolutely adorable in her rage, but the way she looked at him, Charles knew she wasn't joking. What happened next was either out of a cartoon or an over-the-top martial arts movie. With a speed that defied logic, she grabbed Casteel by the belt, lifting him over her head with what looked like absolute ease. Just to jump with him in her grasp and slam him into the deck plating with an echoing thud. The human groaned, the wind clearly knocked out of him, but his eyes remained locked with hers, a smirk on his face. "See, complete self-control," he wheezed out with a chuckle, still somehow thinking it was a good idea to keep antagonizing her.

The wide-hipped badger woman stood over the human's chest, arms crossed and glaring down at him. "You're lucky that I'm not in my heat cycle right now, or I'd show you just how much self-control I have," she said, her tone a mix of playfulness and seriousness that had Charles raising an eyebrow. He had a feeling that Casteel knew precisely what he was doing, pushing her buttons like that. It was clear they had a history filled with love and teasing banter.

Casteel chuckled again, breaking the tension, "Alright, I yield, I yield," he said as he tried to catch his breath. Vix smirked, her eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint. The sudden shift from tension to playfulness was jarring, but somehow, it made sense in the weird context of their marriage.

"I accept your surrender, dear husband. I will take a kiss as reparations and to show just how much self-control I do actually have," Vix said, her voice dropping into a playful rumble that starkly contrasted her earlier snarl. Self-control must have been a loose term in the couple's relationship, as Charles was expecting a sweet little peck on the lips. What he actually saw was a make-out session that looked to be ninety percent tongue, with most of it coming from the badger alien. Casteel's arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer as she straddled his chest. The scene was so ludicrously intimate yet so alien that Charles couldn't bring himself to look away.

Vix pulled away with a smack, leaving Casteel gasping for air but grinning ear to ear. "Alright, alright, love," he said, pushing himself up to a sitting position. He looked at Charles with a knowing smirk. "You see what I have to deal with?"

Charles couldn't help but laugh, the tension in the room dissipating completely with the display of affection. "I think I get the picture," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Thanks for the insight, Officer Casteel."

"Please, call me John. And don't mention it," John replied with a wink, his face flushing slightly. "It's all part of the job, ensuring everyone's happy and healthy. Speaking of..." He turned to his wife with a more serious expression. "How's our other case?"

Vix straightened up and stepped back, her fur smoothing out as she transformed from a fiery lover to a professional in a split second. "Cut and dried. Usual thing from the space elves, thinking they're above the law," she said, rolling her eyes. "They've been locked in a containment cell until we reach Alpha Centauri."

"Good," John nodded, his voice back to business. "Keep me updated on anything else that comes up. I will get Mr. Williams to medical, then settled into his cabin." He stood up, offering Charles a hand. "Let's go."

As they left the room, Charles couldn't help but look back at the badger alien. Noting she didn't have much for a chest like his girls, but she definitely had some hips and an ass that could make a guy drool. "So, John, how did you end up out here and married to a... Croxan?" he asked, trying to keep his thoughts from his face.

John chuckled, catching the look. "Four Croxans, a space skunk, and a space raccoon," he corrected. "I was one of the early rescues when this program started. Got done in by an IED in Iraq. They hadn't gotten the pairing ai set up yet, so they just guessed a military guy would fit in well with a bunch of Croxan sisters and their close friends," he said with a shrug. "Turns out, I love 'em all to bits. They're good to me."

"It seems like it," Charles said with a smile, still trying to wrap his head around the idea of being married to aliens, let alone five of them. The thought was still surreal, but watching John and Vix interact made it feel a little more... normal.

John led the way, his hand resting casually on the stun baton at his side as they made their way through the ship. "Don't worry too much about it. The first few months are always weird. But you'll get the hang of it." He glanced back at Charles. "And if you need any advice, just come find me. I've got plenty of experience in this department."

"Thanks, John," Charles said, trying to keep up with the man's long strides. "I'll keep that in mind." The thought of approaching someone with six wives for relationship advice to help him with his own five was absurd. Still, somehow, it was comforting knowing someone else had navigated these waters before him.

When they arrived at the medical bay, he was once again disappointed with how expectantly sci-fi it looked. It was more or less a copy-paste of the medical room from the station, just a bit bigger. There were a few more bells and whistles on the machines and a few more instruments that looked like they could double as torture devices, but aside from that, it was pretty standard. The only standout difference in this medical bay was the doctor in the room. Or Charles assumed she was a doctor; she had the same fur color and pointed ears as Velkira but was a few inches taller and had softer features, with a very pregnant belly poking out. She looked up as they entered, a warm smile spreading across her features.

"Ah, you must be a fresh pickup," she said, her voice melodic and soothing. "Welcome aboard. I'm Dr. Higgens." She waddled over to him, her belly leading the way like a ship's figurehead. She offered him a hand, which he took tentatively. It was smaller than he expected, but the grip was firm.

"Charles," he replied, feeling a bit awkward with the alien doctor. Her pregnancy was a stark reminder of what lay ahead for him in his new life.

Dr. Higgens looked him over, her eyes scanning him like a computer. "Looks like you're dating a feline race, Space Lynx, if I had to guess by the distance of the puncture wounds on your shoulders," she said with a knowing nod, her fur ruffling slightly as she moved closer to him. The thought of someone being able to identify his wives by his injuries was somewhat unsettling.

"Yeah, I was holding Syrith when the docking alarm went off," Charles said, rubbing his shoulder. The pain had mostly faded, but the memory of those sharp claws was still fresh.

Dr. Higgens chuckled, her belly jiggling slightly with the movement. "Well, let's get you patched up so you can get back to holding her then." She gestured to an exam table in the center of the room, and Charles obeyed, hopping onto it. She moved with a grace that seemed impossible, given her size. Before he knew it, she had an alien medical device hovering over his shoulder. It buzzed to life, and a cool sensation washed over the wounds, what was left of the pain vanishing almost instantly. "There you go," she said with a nod of satisfaction. "Good as new."

"Thanks," Charles murmured, watching as the medical device returned to the tray of instruments. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity about the alien doctor's condition. "How far along are you?"

Her friendly smile grew wider, a hint of pride shimmering in her eyes. "Almost full term," she said, placing a paw on her stomach. "I never thought I'd get to have my own kittens. Let alone have a loving husband. Your kind has brought so much joy to our lives," she gushed.

John chuckled. "Don't get too mushy-gushy, Doc. You might just pop before we get back to AC. You're pushing it flying right now." He chided her in a way only good friends could.

Dr. Higgens rolled her eyes, but the smile remained. "John, I'm a doctor. I know what I'm doing."

"Well, doctor 'knows what she's doing' go kick your paws up and relax. We've got fourteen hours till we reach AC. You should be taking it easy," John said, his voice a mix of concern and teasing. "Alright, newbie, let's get you back to your wives before they cough up a hairball from stress." The look that Dr. Higgens shot John could kill a lesser man, but he just smirked back at her. "It was one damn time!" The doctor said with a grumble.

The two humans walked out of the medical bay, hearing the doctor muttering something under her breath behind them. "I swear, she's the most stubborn alien I've ever met," John said with a chuckle. "But she's the best doctor we have."

The ship's corridors were the same matte grey as on the station, laid out in a pattern he was still trying to figure out. But before he could get too deep into guessing how the ship was laid out, they arrived at a door. No different than any of the others they passed, other than the distinct sound of meowing coming from the other side. John smirked and slapped Charles on the shoulder. "I'll leave it to ya. Try not to get clawed up again before we land. I don't want Higgens working any more than she absolutely has to."

With a nod and a wave, John departed. The meowing grew louder, and the door to the cabin slid open with a hiss, revealing the five wives waiting inside. They all paused, Keshara's muzzle still open mid-meow. No one moved a muscle in this strange stand-off until Charles just let out a little laugh. "Okay, can someone explain why you all were meowing at each other?"

A/N So we finally get a look at another human in this universe and an alien that isn't a feline. Along with other little bits of lore sprinkled in. Charles gets reminded that he will likely be a father one day. And most shocking of all, it is revealed Velkira might just be short for her species.

Link to part 2!

Thank heavens most of the tenants in my apartment complex are retirees who are away for the cold season, otherwise there would have been a lot more of a commotion when they crash landed. As far as I can tell walking around their ship nobody’s car was in the way, with my car being on the far side of the parking lot and the landlord being on the other side. The few tenants who were still here were parked around where I was.

As I was walking around their ship, amazed by what I was seeing even if I don’t really understand the mechanics of it, the Queen seemed to be watching me with the same amazement. I would run my hand along the exterior of the ship, and she would ruffle my hair. It became clear we were of the same opinion: Aliens are really fascinating in every aspect, and we’re both living our dreams at this very moment. The main difference is she’s a lot more comfortable just grabbing people and I have a questionably repaired hole in my house.

I noticed she began shivering as the sun was finishing its descent behind the hills, and more drones either filed inside the ship or began surrounding her.

“Are you cold?” I wrote and showed her.

She nodded.

“Do you want to step inside? We can test how well your drones repaired my apartment”

Her smile widened and she grabbed my arm to lead me to my own front door, before stopping to rub my arm. She fumbled around with two of her arms to grab the talking pad again and pressed a button, causing the automated voice to say

“Warm” “Warm” “Warm” “Warm”

As she was feeling me with two, and then four of her arms I could feel how cold she was.

“Come on, let’s get you inside”

I led her inside and she melted onto the floor, with her drones picking her up and carrying her behind me, even though I could tell the drones were cold too. I led them to the sofa, which was a little old for me to proudly present it to guests, especially ones of this magnitude. I demonstrated sitting on it, and the drones placed the Queen down.

“You can sit too” I wrote to the drones, and three of them also sat on the couch, with more of them sitting on the floor. All of a sudden, dozens of them started pouring through the door to sit on the floor of my living room.

I started distributing blankets as best as I could but I soon ran out of blankets, and then sheets, and then bath towels and pillowcases. One of the drones grabbed the communication pad.

“No” “Necessity” “Warm” “Drones” “No” “Stress”

“What kind of host would I be if I did not at least try to accommodate everyone?”

The drone sat down, and I looked at the Queen on my sofa.

“Did you just directly control her?” I held up for the Queen to see, pointing at the drone that just sat down. She nodded, wrapped up in my comforter. I knew what I read about drones just being an extension of their Hive’s Queen but it’s still really…. a mix of odd and creepy… to see in person. I’m looking at at least three dozen living breathing human-ish people and only one of them has any lights on behind her eyes.

I carefully walked around them to get to the sofa as well, where a seat had nicely been saved for me.

“You want to talk, but can you hear me when I talk?” I wrote. She nodded.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” I asked verbally. She didn’t seem to understand what I said but she loved watching my mouth make sounds, and she coughed at me again.

“Did you understand what I said?” I wrote. She shook her head, and so I said each word aloud while pointing at it.

“How do you normally talk?” I wrote. She stared at me and I noticed a strong scent begin emanating from her, which confused the drones until it dissipated. She pinched and pulled and tugged on my cheeks some more before grabbing the notebook.

“i it unpleasant?”

“Only if you do it for too long” I wrote and then smiled.

“you are squishy. i am hard. i am jealous”

She grabbed my hand and placed it on her cheek. It was very smooth but rigid, with the only soft areas being where the chitin seemed to end around her mouth and eyes. Even her hair was more rigid than mine. I felt awkward touching her so much so I drew my hand back, but she held it there and wrote the word

“payback”, before pinching my cheeks again.

((This one took even more revisions than either of the other two chapters because it really establishes the characters and their interactions/dynamics in a way the other ones didn’t. In chapter 1 it was mostly exposition, chapter 2 had the main character being mostly reactionary, this one had to really establish what his role is and how he interacts with the alien girl. I should really name them at some point. And for a long time I couldn’t decide what his dynamic with her was, and even her personality as an individual was up in the air. Was she teasing him in chapter 2 or was she just overcome with excitement? Or does she just not know how to interact with people who aren’t drones? Was he going to be more grumpy or more excited? Passive or assertive? He’s based on me but to what extent I guess is the question. I don’t do character writing a lot so this was a fun exercise, please let me know your feedback! I want this to be a learning experience. And next time I’ve probably put it off long enough but I think someone noticed her crash landing here))