A Day In The Life Of A Diplomat

Ingrid, a tall, dignified woman who usually wore her blonde hair up in a neat, businesslike bun, had recently begun leaving it down and loose. Letting her hair down, both metaphorically and literally, seemed to be what was called for in her new posting as the Terran Diplomatic Service's latest Deputy Chief of Mission on Hokaya, the latest of many alien worlds to which her diplomatic career had taken her.

Before her arrival, she had tried to sound out colleagues who had previously served here about what to expect, but they had been unusually tight-lipped. Her mentor, who had been instrumental in arranging this assignment for her--a promotion of sorts--had only winked and promised her that it would be an unforgettable experience. It was certainly that, she had to admit, but when she got back after this tour was over, she was going to thank him with a sharp kick in the balls, while wearing her spikiest high heels.

She had been mystified when she learned that she would be entitled to hazard pay. It was a welcome boost to her retirement savings, but strange. Weren't the Hokayans, a race that resembled short, stout teddy bears, reputed to be the most friendly of the many alien species that humanity had ever encountered among the stars? In the pictures she had seen, they seemed absolutely adorable, and almost too cute to be true. What possible danger could there be?

It was only after she had taken up her post that she had learned that the hazard in question was... chafing.

As it had turned out, "friendly" was a ridiculous understatement. The Hokayans, biologically and culturally, bore a strong resemblance to Earth bonobos, in that casual promiscuity was a universal rule. Just about every social interaction was a sexual one; Hokayan society, in fact, embodied the "free use" fantasies so beloved by Earth incels. Copulation was omnipresent and inescapable. Anyone who did not play along would be met with outrage and disgust; there could be no greater insult to Hokayan sensitivities. Every diplomat stationed on Hokaya had to respond to Hokayan sexual overtures correctly, with a practiced smile on his or her face, or be sent home in disgrace for causing a major diplomatic incident.

Hokayans did not shake hands; Hokayan etiquette called for a much more direct sign of friendship. Thus, Ingrid, like all other female Embassy staff, wore a loose, very short skirt that barely covered her crotch, and no panties (never, ever). It was fortunate that Ingrid had been thoroughly briefed by her new subordinates before she met her first Hokayan official, or she might have shrieked and slapped his face when he reached under her skirt and grabbed her by the pussy, giving it a warm squeeze with his soft leathery paw. She had to steel herself before bending down and taking his cock and balls in her hand (a cock which promptly stiffened, as cocks tend to do when amiably greeted). The Hokayan official's genitals were conveniently out in the open, because Hokayans did not wear clothes, just a harness on which to hang whatever tools and pouches they needed. They were born with their own fur coats, after all.

On Hokaya, there were no private parts... She still found it odd how quickly she had adapted to this.

By now, of course, she was an old hand at this, and would relax and spread her thighs slightly to welcome a groping Hokayan paw. If it were a Hokayan she knew well or had more intimate dealings with, he would keep holding onto her pussy as he spoke, and even slide a finger tenderly up and down her folds. She would of course reciprocate politely, not releasing his cock right away during their conversation, and even sliding her fingers up and down it. Some of the Embassy's longer-serving male staff (who wore kilts, also with no underpants) had tried to popularize Hokayan etiquette among the Terran diplomats. Ingrid had put a firm stop to this, of course. There would be no degeneracy on her watch! It would be bad for discipline, she thought, to have her subordinates constantly fingering her.

Hokayan ways had certainly come as a shock to their brand-new Ambassador, who had not been prepared for Hokaya any more than Ingrid had. He was an elderly man with white hair, a crusty old warhorse who was heading into his last tour before drifting off into a comfortable retirement. He was also a pompous windbag, which Ingrid suspected might have led someone at headquarters with a genuine sense of humor to send him off to Hokaya. Ingrid had accompanied him to the formal presentation of his credentials at the Foreign Ministry, and had tactfully tried to tell him what to expect. He had ignored her, snapping indignantly that he had been through this countless times and did not need to be told how to behave by someone so many years his junior. She had finally given up with a sigh. At least she had tried; and at least he had worn the kilt, after grumbling about it.

The astonished look on his face when the Hokayan Foreign Minister ceremonially buggered him was the same expression Ingrid had worn when it happened to her, though she did not think her face had turned that shade of purple. Later, she had explained to the Ambassador gently that even the very concept of rape did not exist on Hokaya; consent was always taken for granted, because the other party was always not only receptive, but eager. The Ambassador's kicking and flailing had been misinterpreted as merely a sign of enthusiasm, and a signal for the Foreign Minister to thrust into him even harder.

Fortunately, the Ambassador, irascible as he was, was also a consummate professional, and he had soon simmered down. Ingrid had every expectation that he would soon adapt to local customs, like the rest of the Embassy staff. After all, she reflected, a diplomat's job was not to lie for his or her planet, as the saying falsely had it; it was to suck foreign dick for your planet, metaphorically. Doing it literally for a change was not all that different, as she had quickly learned for herself. It was certainly more honest than most diplomacy, and in a way that was a very refreshing improvement.

She had found out after her own accreditation ceremony that the Embassy staff had intentionally not given her any advance warning. It was apparently considered a rite of passage, a sort of hazing ritual for the new girl; and it definitely came under the heading of "what happens on Hokaya stays on Hokaya." She would have appreciated some warning before having a furry, chubby Hokayan cock shoved up her ass, though. She had come prepared to shake the Foreign Minister's cock politely, but she had certainly not been expecting that!

Even though her face had not turned purple, she had been so startled that she had made an unholy amount of noise. Her face turned red from embarrassment every time she obsessively rewatched the official souvenir video recording of her accreditation ceremony that the Hokayan Foreign Ministry had forwarded to her.

Whenever she watched it, she also added another kick to her mental tally of the righteous retribution she planned to inflict on her mentor's hairy old testicles whenever she got back to headquarters. It was not much consolation that the rest of the Embassy staff had all had the same surprise themselves. She wondered how often they watched their own souvenir recordings...

Ingrid had been so mortified that she had even thought of begging the Hokayan Foreign Ministry, in a crass violation of diplomatic protocol, for a chance to do it all over again. Sadly, diplomatic protocol did not allow for do-overs. She was sure that now that she had some Hokayan experience under her belt, she could retain the dignified composure expected of a professional diplomat, and even keep a placid smile on her face while the Foreign Minister was buggering her vigorously.

She would certainly not be making those ridiculous squealing noises again, like a stuck pig! She was never going to let anyone else see that damned recording. Her only consolation was that the Hokayans, who were not experts on human vocalizations, had mistaken her squeals as cries of ecstasy, so she had not begun her tour on Hokaya by causing a diplomatic incident.

Oddly enough, no one was ever mad at the Hokayans. They were just too adorable, and not because they were warm, fuzzy teddy bears with fuzzy cocks (which made for an intriguing difference in the friction you felt when they were inside you). They were a cheerful, open, sociable, and happy-go-lucky species, and their flattering, wide-eyed amazement and grateful appreciation of sex with you was definitely good for a girl's ego.

The Hokayans were so open, in fact, that no one had ever bothered to set up an intelligence section at the Terran Embassy on Hokaya; there was just no point in trying to spy on them. If you ever wanted to know anything at all, all you had to do was ask, and the Hokayans would happily tell you every detail, at great length (probably to prolong the experience of fucking you while answering, but that was a small price to pay).

Diplomatic receptions on Hokaya were memorable; they generally turned into all-out orgies within minutes. It was a good thing, Ingrid reflected, that the Embassy provided such generous lube allowances to its staff. She was constantly worried about running low even so; she had learned from bitter experience that chafing was a very real hazard at these receptions. They were very enjoyable occasions otherwise, at least, though they did have one downside, in that the other alien species with embassies on Hokaya were also represented, and they also tried to follow Hokayan standards of behavior.

Ingrid shuddered at the memory of some of the tentacles and ovipositors that had explored her innermost recesses, and the many different grasping appendages that had grabbed her pussy, friendly though they were. She prided herself on being adaptable, though she did prefer the feel of soft Hokayan paws down there. Ingrid usually managed to offer a credible version of intercourse, though she still did not have the slightest idea how to have sex with the flying space snails (nor they with her, to be honest, though she was willing to give it the old college try if they ever figured it out).

On a day-to-day basis, naturally, Ingrid and the rest of the Embassy's personnel spent most of their time engaging with the Hokayans. Hokayan cocks were so ubiquitous during Ingrid's days that they had even invaded her dreams. Last night she had dreamed that she was silently sneaking through a low-ceilinged underground tunnel, on some sort of secret mission behind enemy lines. She could tell that it was a commando mission because she was not wearing any pants, which made perfect sense. Otherwise, she was dressed for stealth, with a black knit cap pulled low over her blonde hair, and a black sweatshirt covering her from the waist up. She did worry that her gleaming white buttocks, even in the dim light, might serve as a beacon to any lurking guards, but what choice did she have?

Multitudes of fat, furry Hokayan penises were protruding from the walls on either side of the tunnel and bobbing at her invitingly. Many more were dangling down from the ceiling, where she could just barely get her mouth up to them if she stood on her bare toes and stretched upwards. She knew instinctively that the only way she could complete her vital, world-saving mission was to get past this gloryhole gauntlet, defeating the insistent cocks in single combat one by one, before the door at the end of the tunnel would slide open and Ingrid could rush in to foil the plans of the Bad Guys. She would have to suck off the horde of teddy bears as quickly as possible, or civilization as she knew it would end! There was no time to lose! She bent to her task and sucked with patriotic fervor.

Ingrid had awoken grinning. It was no surprise that her dreams were mostly sex dreams, given the constant barrage of sexual stimuli during the day, but it was funny how sometimes your dreams had so many parallels to your waking life. In hindsight, though, why hadn't dream-Ingrid thought of at least using her hands? Ingrid had certainly had enough practice by now servicing three Hokayans at a time in real life.

Terran-Hokayan relations covered a wide range of areas of cooperation, and none more far-reaching than scientific and technical cooperation. The Embassy's S&T officer was a short, vivacious redhead named Jeanie, who had extended her tour a record four times so far. Jeanie was a true workaholic, who had negotiated an incredible number of bilateral agreements, and seemed to come up with a new idea every week for another one in some esoteric field that urgently required intensive in-person negotiations with her Hokayan counterparts.

Ingrid could hear Jeanie negotiating now, as Ingrid briskly strode down the hall on the way to her next meeting. Jeanie was in the second-largest conference room with a group of Hokayans, working out the details of their next bilateral agreement. Jeanie's melodious warbling, punctuated by gasped technical terms and numbers, was unmistakable. Soon, Ingrid knew from experience, Jeanie would be uttering a series of wordless, shrill yips, which would come faster and faster together until they merged into a full-throated scream when Jeanie climaxed.

At least she was keeping her negotiations in the conference room this time. A couple of weeks ago, Jeanie had had to rush back to her desk to get a document she had forgotten. She had jogged down the hall from the conference bent over and stark naked, with a very happy teddy bear still clinging tightly to her buttocks and humping her as hard as he could while she ran. At most Terran embassies, this would have been viewed as a breach of decorum. Here, however, Jeanie's colleagues were unflustered, and merely started making bets on whether Jeanie could make it back to the conference room before she orgasmed and her thrashing finally dislodged her fuzzy little rider from her hindquarters.

One of the secrets of Jeanie's success was that the Hokayans really loved having such a responsive and demonstrative negotiating partner. It seemed to be a universal truth, across species lines, that everyone wanted their sex partners to show appreciation, and showing appreciation, for certain, was something Jeanie was very good at. The young S&T officer really loved to fuck.

Jeanie's appreciative cries were accompanied by a rhythmic, violent thudding. The door to the conference room was half-open, and as Ingrid hurried past, she could see Jeanie frenziedly bouncing her round little bottom up and down on the lap of a Hokayan who was seated on the conference table. Ingrid frowned slightly. If Jeanie broke yet another conference table, it was going to come out of her pay!

It was probably worth it, though; Jeanie was one of the most passionate and productive diplomats at the Embassy, and Ingrid planned to give her top marks in her next annual performance appraisal. Jeanie certainly did more negotiating than anyone else.

Ingrid, out of curiosity, had reviewed the terms of some of the recent agreements had been signed, and was intrigued to see how well-balanced they were. The Hokayans viewed even business deals as another form of sex, and it was a point of pride to achieve mutual satisfaction, rather than screwing over the other side and leaving it unfulfilled (the Terran attitude that Ingrid was used to, sadly).

It was an unusual variation on capitalism, but it seemed to work well for the Hokayans, as well as making it a real pleasure, in several senses, to do business with them. Hokaya had become a thriving, advanced technological civilization and would soon become one of the galaxy's major commercial powers, Ingrid thought. She personally hoped that their sphere of influence would expand; sometimes she thought to herself, half-seriously, that it would be a fine thing if the Hokayans ever conquered Terra.

That did not mean that Jeanie was not a cutthroat negotiator in her own right, however. Ingrid had nearly fallen off her chair laughing when she noticed a penalty clause in the fine print of a contract for the co-production of components for AI starship pilots. The contract, which was worth billions and would keep thousands of people employed both on and off Hokaya, would be null and void if Jeanie ever failed to appear personally at every quarterly board meeting of the Hokayan conglomerate in question, and suck off each and every board member. What a sneaky little tart, binding herself to be forced by law to have orgies whether she wanted them or not (as if)!

Her Hokayan counterparts must have had great faith in Jeanie's stamina in order to let such a risky clause stay in the contract. Ingrid was pretty sure that their faith in the little raging nymphomaniac was justified, though she wondered who at the Embassy would have to fill in if Jeanie were ill and unable to fulfill her legal obligations, or worse, if Jeanie were ever reassigned off Hokaya. Would it fall to her? She could never let that contract fail; that would be a terrible blot on her record! She thought it unlikely that the Ambassador would volunteer to handle it himself.

Ingrid was interrupted in her progress down the hallway by a leathery paw probing beneath her skirt. She looked down, startled, to see a strange Hokayan with a very familiar gleam in his eye. She sighed to herself. One of the many oddities about her current posting was that random Hokayans kept wandering in off the street looking for an exotic Terran fuck. Usually they were discreetly intercepted in the lobby by Mrs. McCoy, the Embassy's plump, motherly receptionist, who could be relied upon to greet them warmly. At the moment, it seemed, all of Mrs. McCoy's orifices were occupied by thrusting Hokayans, so she must have just cheerily waved the new arrival down the nearest corridor, where he had been lucky enough to come across Ingrid.

Ingrid stroked her new admirer's fuzzy cock, gave him a bright smile, and thought about just sucking him off expeditiously, to save time; but he seemed like a really nice little guy, so she got down on her hands and knees on the carpeted floor. Her sash-pretending-to-be-a-skirt immediately rode up above her ass, so she was already stripped for action, and the Hokayan did not waste any time entering her either. It really did not take that much time, and he was definitely warming her up for her meeting. She was practically purring by the time he finished; and one of the many good things about Hokaya was that no one really cared whether you were on time for a meeting. Sex was always the perfect excuse, and it outweighed punctuality every time.

At least this particular Hokayan was not a female. Not that there was anything wrong with that! Ingrid loved those cuddly, top-heavy little teddy bears with long glossy black nipples jutting out from their plush, furry tits. Those little fuzzballs were so huggable! It was just that it took so much longer to satisfy them; Hokayan females liked a lot of foreplay, and they firmly insisted on multiple orgasms. The Embassy's cleaning staff were all local hires, and Ingrid had been caught working late at her desk more than once by the cleaning crew. Whenever that happened, she could expect to be kept late into the night to service all the cleaning ladies before she was finally allowed to stagger off to bed. It was a lot of fun, of course, but a girl did need her sleep.

Ingrid was starting to suspect the real reason why the Ambassador worked late so often. At least he was adapting well to Hokayan ways, and as far as she was concerned, the more he interacted with ordinary Hokayans the better.

After her unplanned interlude, she rushed off again down the hallway, arriving at the door to the conference room slightly out of breath. She was the diplomat in charge of negotiating an updated military cooperation agreement, and was anticipating a grueling round of talks. She paused in the doorway, arching her back and pushing her tits forward (one advantage that Terran females had on Hokaya was that their breasts looked positively gargantuan compared to the native variety). Every pair of eyes in the room was locked onto her bosom--even more so than usual. Her counterparts were three unusually large and burly Hokayan generals, with their bright red harnesses covered in medals and ribbons, and their unusually large (for Hokayans) members were already standing up to salute her.