Basic Anatomy

Larsen sighed as he ran the snake into the plumbing. It was the eighth plugged toilet of the day. He glanced at his watch and saw he was only four hours into his shift.

"Why can't you people maybe try some fiber?" he called to the vacationing couple under the sheets in the stateroom. His diet was loaded with broccoli, beans, and corn. These damn cruise ships, the Stargazer Class, touring the universe and all, were really interstellar buffets for rich humans. And they were fed the greasy, fatty, rich foods rich humans liked, stopping up their intestines as often as their toilets. At least he wasn't working on the Med-Deck, handing out suppositories.

"Never-Closed Pizza Stations available and you wanna get fiber?" The Terran woman punched the man for his little joke. Larsen wrapped up quickly and packed his toolkit. As he left, the woman smiled tentatively.

"Hey, you're from Pratius?" she asked.

"Yeah," Larsen replied.

"Can we, you know, see it?" she asked, even more hesitant.

Larsen smiled at that. Humans reached the stars and colonized two planets over forty generations ago. Larsen was from Pratius and had never seen Terra. He heard it was overpopulated and polluted. Pratius was a larger, more-dense planet orbiting a white dwarf only twenty parsecs from their current position. Due to the increased gravity, human development mirrored the local life: short, squat, heavily muscled, and thick. Larsen ran into Terran humans on-ship, and both males and females expressed curiosity at the thickness of his dick. He was a show-off and often complied with their requests. He liked it when Terran women, who stood almost a foot taller than the average Pratian human, smiled with glee at his short, very thick cock.

"Shit, why not?" he said. He faced the two, who sat up in anticipation. He started unbuckling his belt when the woman stopped him.

"No, come closer," she said, her voice turning husky. Larsen complied and stood next to her side of the bed. He undid his belt, yanked his pants to his knees and held his shirt up to his stomach. Their reaction was common.

"Oh, wow," the guy said, awed. The girl smiled, eyes glued on Larsen's crotch. He gave them a few seconds of looking, and went to pull his pants up. The woman, mid-40s, obviously aroused, stopped him.

"Can I touch your legs?" she asked.

"Whatever," he replied. She reached out and gave his exposed quads a squeeze.

"Jesus, they're like granite," she breathed. Larsen let her grope his thighs then pulled his pants up. He walked to the door.

"Hey," the man called, "thanks!" Larsen waved without looking over his shoulder. The two got back to business under the sheets as he pulled the door shut.

His intercom twinkled. "Larsen," his boss yelled, "Get back here as soon as possible. Like 10 seconds ago."

"Fuck," Larsen replied, "What?"

"Come find out, as soon as you're not elbow-deep in someone's poop," the bossman said.

"Fuck," Larsen repeated to no one in particular. At least it wouldn't be a rescue operation for a kitten accidentally flushed down a toilet. That happened a week ago and Larsen's expertise was required. The animal made it, although Larsen thought if he were in that position, he'd rather not live with the memory. 20 minutes later, Larsen was standing in front of the bossman's desk.

"Grab one extra set of overalls and get on Bay Shuttle 2, now. It's leaving in an hour and you have to be on it."

"Where's it going?" Larsen inquired.

"Don't worry about it," was the reply, "Just be on it."

The hands of Larsen's watch spun a single revolution. He was the only one on a shuttle built for fifty people. It seemed highly unusual to run one man somewhere since the operating costs were through the roof. Repulsor engines whined as the ship broke contact from the metal bay flooring. An unpleasant tickle washed over Larsen as the craft passed through the ionized wall, sealing the bay from open space. He looked out a window and his eyes grew round.

"Goddam," he said respectfully.

He only saw pictures of them in books. In real life, one was more impressive.

"Hey, pilot, what the hell is that doing here?" he called out. The pilot's only response was a shrug.

Where the Stargazer Class luxury cruisers were round, fat, aesthetic, and harmless, the Reaver Class battlecruisers weren't. The ship, sleek, grey, and bristling with armaments, cut effortlessly through the void. The luxury ship happily farted around in space, never in a rush. No one could mistake the purpose of either ship.

There was one small airlock available on the warship. The pilot settled the shuttle on its burners, clunking down with imprecise skill. Larsen climbed out of the hatch. Two officers, replete in naval uniforms, strode to him. He craned his neck to look up at them.

They were from Fedrotan, the second of Terra's two colonized planets. Fedrotan was a small chunk of rock, with much less gravity then Terra. Subsequently, the humans there developed in the opposite way Pratians did. They became thin, lithe, and tall. The average Fedrotian was over 6 feet tall, many scraping 7 feet. They towered over Larsen.

Both took one knee to speak with him face to face. Larsen appreciated the effort.

"Welcome to Reaver Class B-401, the good ship Warmaker," said the officer.

"Thank you, Commander," Larsen said, nodding at the officer's lapels, "Now, what the hell am I doing here? I'm no warrior type."

"We understand that but we were recently involved low-intensity conflict on the Lornian Periphery. We suffered casualties, including our services man. I will not tell you more except that you are the only possible replacement for the critical needs of this vessel."

"Hold on..," Larsen started.

"Hold on, SIR" the other man, a Lieutenant by his rank, corrected Larsen.

Larsen fixed his gaze on the young officer. "Fuck you, SIR. I'm not military, I'm a civilian. I fucking pick when I do and do not say sir. I'm not one of your little swabbies. You've had that uniform for half a year and you think you're big shit?"

He focused back on the senior officer. "Sorry about that. That kid needs his ass kicked to show him his place in the world."

The commander smiled. "We all do sometimes," he said, "But please allow me to show you the workshop and introduce you to the department CO."

Larsen half-jogged to keep up with the long steps of the two men. The lieutenant tried to push the pace faster to fuck with Larsen, but his superior slowed things down. Little was said during the 10 minute stroll. Larsen asked once if they were immediately headed back into conflict. The response came in the form of a nod. Larsen found himself happy to be on a Reaver, which was the most heavily-armored ship in the navy except for the huge capital warships.

The two men left him at the door of the workshop. A small sign affixed to the door indicated LT(JG) Renior would return presently.

"We must leave you, Larsen. Good luck and welcome aboard. I will do my best to make sure you don't get disintegrated while on this ship."

Larsen laughed at the joke and shook the commander's hand. He ignored the outreached hand of the younger officer and palmed the doorknob. The door shot up through the vertical slot, revealing cramped quarters, two bunks with privacy curtains, and the looks of a tight, but well-run workshop.

After taking a self-tour of the 60'x60' space, he sat on the bed and cursed.

"Fuck."

"No need to speak in such a rude manner!"

The admonition came from the door. Larsen glanced up.

"Lieutenant Renior, I presume?" he asked in stilted formality.

"You presume correctly," she responded, oblivious of his joke, "and may I assume you are our new services chief, Larsen Vindalona?"

"You may," Larsen teased, "But you may be wrong with your assumption."

A frown creased Renior's face. Her eyebrows knitted in either non-comprehension, displeasure, or both.

"Yeah," Larsen said, "That's me. So, what's the deal?"

"You are contracted to Federated Services and they pick your placements, as you may be aware. In this case, we require an asset with your skills, so we selected you from your previous position. You are the newest crewmember of the Warmaker. You are familiar with electrical in addition to your plumbing knowledge, yes?"

"Yeah, I can run lines and work the juice for the ship. It blows when I get shocked though. Wires can be bullshit, you know?"

"I have operated and repaired the electrical wiring in this ship the past two years, or my entire post-academy career. You will find it is expertly run, without mistake. I believe in precision."

"Yeah, I bet so," Larsen said. Shit. He was stuck with this chick for the next who-knows-how-long? It would be okay if she didn't, say, have a stick up her ass, or even if she were pretty. Fedrotians were universally recognized as beautiful with their slender bodies, graceful natures, and fine features. This one, Renior, was average-looking for a Terran human. She must be considered ugly on Fedrotan. It clicked to him.

"How did you end up here in the back of the ship with only one other... associate?" he asked.

"I was selected for this job due to my technical abilities. I had few social interactions in my formative years and I enjoyed the solitude of working with circuitry, electronics, and items of a mechanical nature. Political and social connections are required for command of more prestigious specialties, and I have neither."

"It's a shitty world, isn't it," Larsen mused.

"Profanity is not required to achieve communication, Larsen," Renior said. She frowned at him again.

"It's not required, no, but it got your attention and it shows my disgust for what I thought were only rumors about Fedrotan. I heard they do things in a caste system based on how attractive people are. I thought it was bullshit but I see it's true."

Renior glanced at the ground and gathered herself. "It is our culture and someone does have to be at the bottom rung. That is my lot in life and I will sally forth and make the most of what I have. The ship is composed entirely of Fedrotans and I cannot compete against the others due to my social standing. But I enjoy my work and I feel fulfilled with combat service."

Larsen nodded. They moved to business.

Two weeks after his move, Larsen settled into a delightful routine. He was not required to carry certain hours and was in an on-call status. Due to the high level of physical fitness, the almost non-existence of alcohol, and the overly-healthy diet of the servicemen and women, bowel movements rarely blocked toilet facilities. Larsen worked hard for perhaps one or two hours a day. The rest were filled with tinkering in the shop and socializing with off-work crew. His smile, quick wit, and colorful vocabulary made him popular on the ship. He arm-wrestled the men, flirted with the women, and made friends easily. His time spent with Renior was a study in frustration. If he tried to make her laugh, he had to point her at the joke, spoiling it. She was unwavering with logic and she was almost emotionless. If a 6'7 doll came to life, it would be named Renior.

"Hey, buddy, what's good?" Gilbertas asked Larsen in the small lounge.

"All of it," Larsen laughed, "I'm just hanging out, gonna read in a bit."

"Yeah? Good for you. I heard something.... Two things, really," Gilbertas said.

"What's that?"

"Well," Gilbertas said, "I heard Hollia had the hots for you. She said she wanted you to compare size with her current man-toy, Marius."

A grin crossed Larsen's face. Hollia was incredibly beautiful. Marius, as tough as he was, was very slender with generation after generation reacting to the planetary environment. Height was helpful, but when it came to weight, strength, and power, Larsen could own anyone on the ship. He had seen porn with Fedrotians and the men had dicks like their bodies, long, thin, like twigs, almost. Hollia may be wondering about his own dick.

"Nice. Good to know. What's the second thing?"

"There's a pool about when you and Renior finally get it on."

Shock.

"What? That's stupid."

"No, true story. Rumor has it that she's really into you and she's so socially awkward, she doesn't know how to ask. She wants to take you for a spin."

"Can't be. She's never once shown any sort of indication about interest. I'm good at reading women... well, decent, but she's asexual if anything. She's not into any kind of sex. Hell, we live in the same place, she would have made a move by now."

"The grapevine on here is never wrong. You should go hunt down Marius and Hollia and see what happens. Renior is an ogre," Gilbertas said.

"Fuck you and everyone who lives in your cabin!" Larsen surprised himself by rising to Renior's defence. "She's a professional and she's a good person. If you didn't judge based solely on looks, she's someone worth talking to."

Gilbertas shrugged and stood.

"I gotta go on shift now. Later."

Larsen waved his hand, as if shooing a bug away. He thought about it. Did Renior really want to jump his bones? He could see it with Hollia. Her gaze followed his crotch whenever he was in the room. He pondered it a few minutes more and headed back to the shop.

-------------------------------------------------------

The door opened silently. Larsen stepped inside what he now considered home. Renior was paging through schematics and frowning. He imagined gears clanking away in her head.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked. She looked up at him briefly, made eye contact and greeted him with a standard, "Hello." Her head dipped back to the pages laid out in front of her.

Larsen decided she was upfront and he would be to.

"Did you hear about the pool involving us having sex?" he asked bluntly.

"I did hear of such a thing. I expect crew members who are anxious about getting back into the fight on the Periphery find any means possible to gamble and entertain themselves," she responded.

Larsen pushed full-steam ahead.

"I placed a large wager on today. Does the idea of accruing vast amounts of money by engaging in sexual intercourse with me sound appealing to you?" he asked, parroting her language.

She stopped and looked at him. Her face was turning red.

"Why are you teasing me?" she asked, "I believed that while you are foul-mouthed, you are an exceptionally decent person, you work hard, and you do not judge people based on their outward physical appearance."

"I'm not teasing," Larsen said quietly, "I'm serious. Hell, I'll ask you in my language. Wanna fuck?"

She frowned at his language but stood up.

"I do think that your wide girth would increase my sensory input and I could achieve highly pleasurable climax. Okay, I accept your offer."

"Okay," Larsen said, "No more talking." He strode across the cramped space and stood in front of Renior. He reached up and pulled her jumpsuit's zipper down to her hips. Underneath, she had on a light green standard-issue undershirt. Larsen realized the height difference would be difficult. Standing, he was looking at her stomach just above her hips. He pulled her shirt, still inside her jumpsuit, up to just below her breasts, exposing her flat stomach. He ran his palms up her stomach to her rib cage. She was very thin and Larsen wondered if a Terran human could encircle her stomach with his hands. She gasped as his fingertips grazed the bottom swells of her breasts. He smiled at her and she looked back uncertainly.

"I know you directed me to stop verbal communication, but I have not had sexual intimacy in a very long time. I do not know what is required of me."

"You just be quiet, I'll do the work," Larsen said. Renior nodded.

Larsen leaned forward and planted a slow succession of kisses along Renior's abs. His hands slid up high and cupped her breasts. She made no sound, but her body leaned into his touch. He gave her nipples quick, light strokes with the tips of his fingers and she bucked at the touch. Reaching up higher, on his tip toes, Larsen tried to pull the jumpsuit off Renior's shoulders. She got the idea and pulled her arms out of their sleeves. Her shirt came next and she stood topless, jumpsuit hanging at her hips, hints of white panties at the waistband. Larsen stepped back and admired her taut stomach, her small breasts, and the shape of her thin body.

"I think you're very beautiful," he said, looking at her. She blushed for the second time in Larsen's history, and looked at the ground. Larsen pulled at the waist of her jumpsuit and slid the material down each long leg. He helped her feet out of the clothes and she stood naked in front of him. Her hands hung at her sides, fidgeting, and she stared at the ground. Larsen took her hand and led her to his bunk. She moved to sit on it but he stopped her.

"Kneel and face the wall," he said.

She was on her hands and knees on the bed, facing away. Her longs legs worked perfectly here. Her ass was in the air and directly in front of Larsen's face. He leaned forward and breathed on her pussy. Her body shimmied in excitement. Larsen stuck his tongue out and ran it along the backs of Renior's thighs. She gasped, more audibly now, and he slowly moved closer and closer. He licked her pussy lips, gently running his tongue on them. He stopped a moment, stripped off his own clothes, and started stroking his cock. He hardened instantly.

Renior's body reacted quickly too. He ran his mouth over her clit and she started to tense up. Larsen laughed to himself, thinking how easy it was. Her clit was long and wide, almost like a tootsie roll. Women from Fedrotan probably didn't complain about men failing to please them. He quickened his pace and added pressure on her clit, giving strong, paced strokes with the flat of his tongue. Her body was shaking and pearls of juice were already dripping from her. He pushed two fat fingers into her pussy and started pumping in and out. Within minutes, she buried her head into the pillow and screamed as an orgasm shot through her. Larsen kept up the pace until she collapsed completely.

He let Renior catch her breath. He stood behind her, running his fingertips up and down her back. Her breathing slowed and she looked back at him. Her eyes fixed on his dick. Her mouth fell open and formed an 'oh.'

"Not yet," he said, gesturing at his cock, "I want to make sure you're ready for it. Turn back around."

Renior, dazed, nodded and faced the wall again. Larsen slid his fingers into her pussy again, this time wiggling them while he moved them in and out. He straightened up and ran his tongue along the rim of her asshole. She tried to move away, but Larsen grabbed her hips and held her still, while he licked her ass. She settled down as his hands continued to work on her pussy.

Within minutes, he felt her building up another orgasm. He stood back, one hand fingering her, the other running up and down on her clit. Her body spasmed and shook and she screamed into the pillow again, pleasure ripping through her body. She collapsed, sweating, and Larsen stood back, stroking his hard dick and admiring his work.

A minute passed while Renior gathered herself.

"Kneel on the ground," Larsen said.

Renior oozed off the bed and onto the ground. She was bent over the bunk, amazingly at perfect height for Larsen. His crotch was aligned with her sopping wet pussy.

"Ready?" he asked. She nodded, not looking at him, eyes closed.

His cock pushed at her pussy and he knew it was going to be difficult. He had sex with a few Terran women and they were tight. Renior's hips were much more narrow and her body was thin and elongated. Larsen wasn't sure he could fit in her. He pushed lightly, and she grunted. Wet with her juice, Larsen ran his hand up and down his shaft, lubing himself up. He pushed again, his cock going almost nowhere. Renior was forcing herself to relax. Larsen grabbed her hips and pulled them back, thrusting his cock into her. She yelped as he slid deeper in. Luckily, he wasn't long at all, and after a few more pumps, he was fully seated in her pussy, his balls hanging between her legs.