Tags for this story: lesbian, anal, furry, cunnilingus, fellatio
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Sandra looked up as the door creaked open. The setting Nevada sun outside shone in briefly as the big man entered her little bar.
"Afternoon, Sandra," said Ned Chiang. The engineer wore jeans and a flannel shirt. Behind him came a few more people, most of them clad in camouflage-patterned loose clothing.
She gave them all a wave. "Good afternoon, folks." She started filling mugs and uncapping bottles as the group bellied up to the bar. Ned was right in the center. It was early enough in the day that the bar's local patrons weren't here yet.
Sandra had to admit she was curious about the newcomers, along with the rest of the town of Hawthorne. They were apparently all working on some big project at the nearby army depot. It was big enough to cause the locals' tongues to wag. The Hawthorne depot was usually minimally staffed, but now it was bustling. Semi trucks were constantly going in and out, and some sort of huge bunker-like structure was being constructed. Most of the conspiracy theories that the townsfolk had come up with tended to center around the more...out-there ideas.
"So how goes the alien autopsies?" Sandra asked with a grin as she slid a bottle over to Ned.
Ned laughed and slid back a few bills. "Hey, I told you I'm an engineer. My job is to figure out their warp drive." He waved at a blonde woman at the other end of the bar. "Cutting open the big-eyed alien bastards is her job."
The woman smiled and toasted them both with her own beer. Sandra tried to remember her name...Gina? No, Grace. Grace was some kind of doctor, that much she remembered.
After a bit, the soldiers moved off and began playing pool in the back half of the tavern. Eventually Grace pushed off of the bar and joined the pool-players, leaving Ned and Sandra alone at the bar for the moment.
She gave the engineer a stare. "Okay, all kidding aside. Are we in trouble?"
Ned looked puzzled. "Trouble?"
Sandra leaned forward and spoke quietly. "I've got kids, okay? That Army depot stores stuff out here just in case shit goes sideways and we wind up in a major war. I'm not asking for details. Just level with me if, you know, shit really
is
about to go sideways. I don't wanna wake up one morning with a mushroom cloud in my backyard."
Ned chuckled. "Okay, I can understand that. And no, nobody is about to drop the big one on us." He glanced around at the people playing pool. There were shouts and catcalls along with a lot of betting going on. Nobody was paying attention to them. Ned leaned forward as well, bringing his head close to hers.
"There's going to be an announcement," he said. "Next week, by the CIC."
Sandra had been around military types long enough to be able to decode their jargon. CIC meant Commander in Chief, which in turn meant...
"The President?" she said in amazement.
Ned just leaned back, smiled, and drank his beer. "Make sure you're watching. And tell your friends to watch too."
Sandra reached forward and gripped his forearm. It was the first time she'd touched him, and she was surprised to feel solid muscle under his loose-fitting shirt. "Holy shit. It is aliens, isn't it?" she asked.
He smiled wider. "No. I can safely say it isn't aliens. Just watch."
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Holly regarded the machine gun from behind Sergeant Cal Forrester's substantial leg. He looked down and behind him in bemusement at her reluctance.
"It's not gonna bite ya, Holly," he said gently.
She was not so sure. The whole situation was just
wrong
for her. This place was in an area they called 'Nevada', and the weather was a lot hotter and drier than she had ever experienced. The sun beat down around the pair, although they were shaded by the corrugated steel roof that covered this side of the firing range. Holly looked over and saw a distant white target against a dusty hill. The target shimmered in the mid-day heat.
"Why do I have to do this?" she asked. It seemed like a reasonable question.
Holly felt the sergeant's big hand grasp her shoulder and gently scoot her out and around towards the gun. "Just in case you need to," he replied. "You'll be with our unit as we go through the portal back to your world. We're going to be unarmed at first. But just in case the eggheads are right and there
are
some nasty types invading your place, we need to be ready. I'd prefer starting you out with something smaller, but we don't have any guns that will fit your paws yet. This one you should be able to use."
The humanoid rabbit fiddled with the protective glasses that Cal had given her. The sergeant had also provided some foam plugs as ear protection. The latter felt a little odd, but she was getting used to them.
She looked at the thing in front of her. There was a long, complicated-looking tube on top of three metal legs. It almost looked like an evil metal spider getting ready to pounce. Holly realized she was being foolish. It really was just a machine.
A machine meant to hurt and kill,
whispered a little voice in the back of her head. She ignored it and nodded to the sergeant. "Okay, let's do it."
Forrester smiled and knelt beside her. "Good. This is a machine gun, and it's called an M2 Browning. It's also referred to as a Ma Deuce. We have it set up on a tripod which will take a lot of the recoil as it fires. Here, let me get in there."
He seated himself behind the gun. "These handles in the back are how you hold and aim the gun." Cal demonstrated by gripping the two vertical handles at the rear of the long tube. "You use the sights on top to aim. It's pretty intuitive, you line up the back sight with the front sight on top of the thing you want to shoot at. And to shoot it, you press your thumbs on this plate in between the handles. Okay so far?"
She nodded, and he continued. "Now, it's important to remember that this is a fully automatic gun. That means if you keep the trigger plate pressed the gun will keep firing until its ammunition runs out." He pointed at a box mounted on the side of the gun. A belt of bright brass cartridges led from the box into the back end of the weapon.
"This holds about 100 rounds," said the sergeant, "but this gun can fire about 400 rounds a minute. You can do the math on how fast you'll run out of ammo. So you *don't* want to keep the trigger pressed all the time. It's much better to fire the gun in bursts."
He put on earmuffs and did another visual check of the gun, then pressed the trigger as he'd described. Holly jumped as the weapon chattered loudly. Small metal bits and hot brass flew out of it, and she saw puffs of dirt on and around the distant target.
Cal grinned at her wide eyes. "It's loud, I know. That's why we need hearing protection. Now you give it a try."
Holly took a deep breath and seated herself behind the gun. "Um, how long should I hold the trigger down?"
The human soldier looked a little embarrassed. "Well, the most common way we do it is to use a chant."
The lagomorph gave him a smile. She had spent a lot of time around human soldiers, and had picked up on their habits. "Let me guess. It involves cussing."
The sergeant actually blushed. "Yeah. We usually say or think, ah, 'Die, Motherfucker, Die.' every time you press the trigger. That's about the right length of time."
Her smiled widened at his discomfort. In many ways Cal was a lot more conservative than his fellow Rangers. He clearly didn't like cursing in front of a lady. Even if that lady was only four feet tall, had big blue eyes, sported long ears, and had a covering of gray fur.
She took a deep breath. "Right. Let's give it a whirl. Die, motherfucker, die!"
Once she got used to the noise, it was actually quite entertaining. It almost became like a game; how to get these bullets *here* into the center of that target over *there*. Eventually Cal pronounced himself satisfied with her progress.
"That was fun!" she said as they walked away from the range.
"It can be," replied Cal with a smile. "I just hope you never need to use one in anger."
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Grace Penn had a room to herself on the base, but the bathrooms were still communal. It was midday and there was nobody else in the large and white-tiled shower area. The blonde doctor set her towel down outside the shower and walked in. She chose the showerhead around the corner from the entrance, just in case somebody did come in. Grace was still a little body shy, especially around a certain female corporal.
Just the thought of Leslie gave her a little tingle in her nethers. She ignored it as she turned on the shower, but as the water cascaded down her pale skin her thoughts returned again to Leslie Nowak.
The wiry redheaded Corporal had been with them since the first days at Dengar Research Labs. Grace had always gotten the impression that Leslie fancied her as much as she herself lusted after Leslie, but Grace had yet to act on it. Somehow it didn't seem right to be crushing on someone while working on research that would shake the modern world.
Still...it was nice to daydream about Leslie's slim body writhing under her own. Grace had seen the corporal naked in the showers before, and so her imagination had plenty to work on. She fantasized about taking one of Leslie's dusky nipples into her mouth while teasing her down below.
