NSFW

Wunderland Express

By

KaninZ

The food was over-spiced, but the beer was excellent. That was the best thing that Zander could say about the Weingarten, the somewhat seedy Inn where he was staying while he met prospective clients. The Wunderland Express, his privately owned freighter, had a payment due and a serious need for a quick consignment. One of the large, corporate owned freighters had been through recently and he’d wasted three days so far trying to scrounge a load. Either the locals were tapped, didn’t trust the bond of a tramp freighter captain or they were willing to wait for the next heavy loader to come through. The only nibbles he’d had so far was a special delivery to We Made It which would barely cover his operating expenses and a hazmat load that would cost him enough time in decon to ensure his ship went back to the bank.

“TANJ” grumbled Zander, “There ain’t no friggin’ justice.”

Zander ordered another weisenbeir and looked around the Inn’s restaurant area. Business was beginning to increase, probably the local lunch crowd coming in to grab a quick bite. There was a sudden silence and the tension in the room increased. A Kzin had just entered the establishment. Like most of the other heads in the room, Zander’s swiveled to take in the sight of a Kzin, a large, bat-eared, rat tailed, felinoid that looked like some tiger hunter’s opium nightmare, filling the doorway with his seven-foot high frame.

The Kzinti had been occupiers of Wunderland until their defeat in the last Man-Kzin war. Their table manners and choice of cuisine had earned the few who hadn’t been able to return to their region of space, the Patriarchy, a harsh existence. The Kzin are meat eaters, and sentience doesn’t mean you aren’t eligible to be on the menu. The warrior caste had kept several “game preserves” on Wunderland well stocked with criminals and the occasional POW for their hunting parties to chase down, kill and devour. It hadn’t won them any friends among the local populace and now that the locals were back in power the Kzin had their collective tails in a vice. More than one Kzin had met an unfortunate fate at the hands of Wunderlander’s who had lost a relative to the hunt. It was rare to see one outside of the Kzin enclave, even in broad daylight.

This particular Kzin walked over to the bartender, spoke for a moment to the scowling patron, then turned to follow his pointing finger to stare in Zander’s direction. Zander sat up straighter in his chair as he realized the Kzin was about to join him at his table.

“I am (insert sound of a cat fight meeting a bad Kung-Fu movie here) which translated, poorly, to Seller of Garments. I understand you are a hauler of goods. Yes?”

Zander motioned for the Kzin to join him and asked him to describe the nature of his business. The Kzin had made a nice enough living selling garments locally to his fellow Kzinti and wanted to expand his business. He’d made arrangements within the Patriarchy to have a small sampling of his garments distributed and needed to get them from Wunderland to Kzintosh. None of the major freight carriers made runs directly from Wunderland to the Patriarchy and the Wunderland Express offered a chance to dodge the expense of having to ship the load to Earth for eventual shipment to the Patriarchy.

“I have been told by other merchants that customs costs are high and that Kzinti shipments are often… misplaced. I wish to ship directly to Kzintosh and will pay you well.” The Kzin then made an offer that would allow Zander to not only make a bank payment, but a few repairs as well. Zander agreed, produced a standard contract form on his wrist-comp and showed Seller of Garments where to apply his thumbprint and the deal was done.

Two days later, the Wunderland Express, laden with Kzinti haute couture, lifted and headed off into unfamiliar space. Zander put enough room between his ship and the Wunderland singularity, entered the coordinates for Kzintosh and activated the Outsider hyperdrive that allowed his ships modified #2 General Dynamics hull to saucily thumb its nose at Einstein and his relatives. Zander whooped and touched his fingers to his lips then planted the smooch on his control panel. Finally, he was on his way to fiscal solvency!

“Scramble!” Zander yelled as he awoke to the smell of fried plastic and electronics, the ship’s alarm squawking its misery piercingly in the tight space of the Express. He got his bearings, realized simultaneously that something had dropped him back into realspace, that something hadn’t killed him outright and that he was probably in very deep kitty litter. He rolled out of his auto-doc/bunk and stepped over to his pilot’s station, slipping into the seat and turning off the alarm. A quick look at his board told him that a component of the hyperdrive had failed and the autopilot had dropped him into the reach of the nearest singularity prior to the drive failure. There was a system with a G2 star, eight planets and a nasty band of rubble that would have made up a ninth planet but now provided a navigation hazard instead. Deciding that imminent doom had been avoided and that eventual doom was debatable, Zander got up, dressed in a worn work coverall and made coffee.

“Tanj, gonna be one of them days.” He grumbled. After his initial inspection, Zander knew that while the Express wouldn’t be jumping between stars, he was still in pretty good shape. The in-system thrusters were still fine and he had enough fuel to get anywhere within the system. He was fine on O2, water and food. The only problem was being towed by a rescue vessel from the Terran/Kzin Alliance was going to put him way behind schedule and the cost was going to blow his finances back into the red again.

“Ah well, maybe this armpit system has a shipyard.” Zander laughed wistfully. “Heh, and maybe I’ll be crowned Mrs. Universe for my strong showing in the swimsuit competition.” Shaking his head Zander rubbed the white spiders web of scar tissue that started on the back of his hand, ran up his arm and spread into a melted looking patch of his shoulder. “Friggin’ Navy ‘docs. Go in with plasma burns and ye get an aspirin and a pat on the ass. Back into the meat grinder ye go lad. Bring us back some ears!”

Firing up the hyperwave transmitter, Zander radioed for a pick-up and found, to his horror, that he’d be stuck for the bulk of three months in Kzaak’t-system, the local name for the little yellow star system. The debatably good news was that an outpost existed where he could put in for the layover. Cursing his lousy luck and the universe in general, Zander set a course for the fourth planet.

“Three months ballin’ the jack on a planet with nothing but kitties. Good thing I’m not allergic!” Then Zander broke out in giggles remembering a Space Marine he’d known who was allergic to cat fur. Poor guy’d been assigned to some hellish, backwater listening post because every time he got close to a Kzin he was incapacitated by sneezing then broke out in hives. He’d heard later that the listening post was one of the first casualties when the Kzin tried an end-run through a lightly protected region of Terran space.

The entire outpost had been splashed by a rock boosted by a Kzin ship to near-C velocity. They never got off a shot or a call to raise the alarm and human space had paid a butcher’s bill to keep from being over-run. 1^st Lieutenant Angstrom had been on board the Escort carrier Tripoli as a fighter pilot and Flight Leader when they got the call to form a rag-tag fleet to try and slow down the Kzinti advance on Sol. It had been a near thing and most of the ships that’d joined the Trip’ didn’t make it back home. Most of the pilots that’d left the launch tubes with Zander “Rad” Angstrom hadn’t returned in one piece either. Zander winced as he remembered the Kzinti cutter he was pouring depleted uranium into exploding and his cockpit armor cracking to let in a small jet of nuclear hell. He’d spent a long time recovering the use of his right arm. Luckily the Navy auto-doc had plenty of muscle tissue and a spare lung to work with when it patched him back up. Unluckily, the ‘doc was under too heavy a demand to allow “cosmetic” treatment of the scars. Physical therapy on board the Mercy had been worse than the moment of injury; that had been over fast. Zander had lost consciousness rather quickly when the hypo-sprays punched through his seat cushion to pump him full of drugs. The therapy seemed to drag on forever and the Nurses seemed to all have been graduates of the Marquis de Sade School of Therapeutic Medicine.

The spaceport on Kzaak’t amounted to a patch of dirt that had been scraped bare and a ferro-crete bunker that housed both Air Control facilities and the single near-space defense battery that the planet boasted. The launcher for the missiles stood like an imploring skeleton, its empty racks showing red patches of rust through yellow paint spread out like bony arms, plaintively reaching up to an uncaring sky. The Kzin consul he reported to had smelled of tuna and bourbon. His fur had been matted and his disposition one of disinterested surliness. He’d been informed by Alliance Command of the humans plight, welcomed him to Kzaak’t and suggested he stay on his ship and to go armed when he had to venture out for supplies. He then offered to sell Zander a rust-splotched heavy stunner that looked more dangerous to the person desperate enough to fire it than the target.

Lifting up his arm, Zander showed the Kzin the civilian stunner that rode on his wrist. The Kzin lifted its lips in a smile that had nothing to do with humor. “I was shot with one of those once, repeatedly. The monkey who fired it at me was delicious.” When the big felinoid started drooling, Zander excused himself, said he’d take the Kzinti’s advice and beat feet back to the Express. There he exchanged the civilian stunner for the heavy side arm he kept in his duffel.

Two months later found Zander with food stores eaten down to bland choices. The replicator became more and more limited in menu choices as it ran out of bio-supplies. What little he’d had in the limited storage unit had gone quickly. What was worse was, he’d run out of sugar, creamer, then finally coffee. Tanj.

Zander dug through his survival kit to produce a spool of monofilament line, some hooks, sinkers and a knife. He then set out to commit genocide upon the icthian population of the Kzin world of Kzaak’t.

It was a beautiful summers day and the walk to the small river that wound its way beside the Kzin outpost warmed Zander enough that once there he removed his shirt and shoes. Selecting a likely rod from a stand of trees, he set up for business. Beating the nearby bushes he found some of the local insect life, speared same and made an offering to the gods of angling.

The warm summer sun and the sound of the water working its way downstream conspired to make his eyebrows gain the density of a white dwarf. Soon, he was snoozing peacefully with his fishing rod propped up on a forked stick he’d driven into the ground.

Loud, Kzinti voices woke him. Zander could hear the sound of splashing coming from the large pool that lay upstream from his fishing spot. It sounded like two of the local Kzin were merrily attempting to drown each other. Sticking to the bushes that hugged this part of the river, Zander snuck a peek at the two males who were ruining his fishing. One of the males was clearly still a child, the other was older, probably siblings out trying to beat the heat away from the view of adults more than happy to assign chores.

Smiling, Zander went back to supplementing his diet. It wasn’t long before the tip of his fishing rod began to twitch. Then, as he put his hand on it to pick it up, bend down towards the water. Letting out a whoop Zander proceeded to work the fish towards shore. When it was on dry land, Zander almost jumped out of his skin when two shrill cries of triumph belted out behind him.

“Well fought monk…ewwr, hyooman. Truly a nice fish!” The eldest Kzin had almost forgotten manners and called Zander a monkey, an insult used by Kzinti for ages. The youngest Kzin had walked over and was eyeing Zander’s fishing gear as the human rigged a stringer for his future bounty. The youngest sibling let out a yowl as he pricked himself on the fishing hook and promptly stuck the offended digit into his mouth.

“I am son of Healer of Animals and this is my sib.” The older Kzin had drawn himself up formally, which made Zander grin (not showing teeth, a mortal insult when dealing with Kzin) because the alien was still wet, nude and looked like a tiger that’d just stepped in from a monsoon. This was the first time Zander had seen a Kzinti fully nude and he was a bit surprised. “More balls than a Kzin” had been a popular phrase in the barracks. True life hadn’t blessed these Kzin too well in that department. Both of the Kzinti had tiny scrotal sacks, mostly hidden by tufts of fur that was colored a bit darker than what was covering the rest of their form. The penis was hidden away in a short sheath. It made sense. From what he knew of Terran felines, large predators were built for killing and fighting. Evolution had designed the reproductive organs with defense in mind, not impressing blushing humans. Zander quickly looked up.

After a short conversation, the pair had volunteered to assist the “hyooman” in his quest to depopulate the river. Both took off toward the town to gather their own fishing implements of doom. As he settled back to fish and await the return of his new found friends, Zander’s mind began to wander. His rod began to twitch and this time it wasn’t the one for fishing.

“I’ve been alone here for far too long. I’d better be careful or some Kzinti father will be using some parts I’d rather not part with to decorate his trophy belt!” But those two had been so terribly cute! By the time he heard the bushes rustling behind him to herald the return of his new friends, Zander had a painful erection straining the crotch of his spacers dungarees. Only the eldest Kzin had returned, he explained that his father had found other employment for his younger brother involving a shovel and some stalls that had been conveniently forgotten when the idea had struck to go swimming.

“Father insisted that I return here since we said we would help you fish.” The proud Kzin explained. “It is no longer my duty to clean stalls anyway. That is a child’s work. I help my father treat animals when they are sick or injured. If you become sick, I would help him make you well again.” The Kzin’s pride and obvious lack of insult smoothed over the sting of being considered an animal. After considering past Kzin eating habits, Zander decided he made sense. Kzinti are people, everyone else is slave or prey. Healers Son, still nude, was carrying a short spear with two nasty looking barbed tines on the end. He waded out into the stream, brought his arm back, then stared into the water intently. Zander was just about to say something pithy when the spear was snapped down then back, bringing with it a large wriggling fish impaled on the tines. Zander cheered and watched bemusedly as Healers Son’s bat-ears went to full extension with pride. The youth raised his blunt muzzle and roared his triumph. After the fish was added to the stringer Zander pulled in his own line and stripped down. He had to try the spear. Plus it was hot and he’d been sweltering beside all that cool running water. “And besides that,” he said to himself “it’s rude to be clothed when my host is nude.”

Healers Son was honored that the human wanted to learn to fish in a civilized manner. The human was smaller than a real person. Even he towered over the adult human by a good three hands. The Kzinti watched with interest as the human removed its clothing. His eyes went a bit wide at the size of the human’s genitalia. “He’s large as a shtondat!” the insides of his ears growing hot.

“You must aim slightly below the fish, the light gives false spoor to give the fish a fighting chance.” Healers Son spoke in a soft tutorial voice, “You must strike quickly and aim at a point beyond your prey. Strike through him, not upon him.”

After two unsuccessful attempts, Zander felt warm fur brush his back and a strong hand gripped his arm. “I will assist you.” Healers Son said. Zander felt his erection springing back to attention as the Kzin’s sheath was pressed firmly to his back. The slow but steady flow of the river was making them sway gently and Zander could feel the penis hidden inside that sheath as it rubbed back and forth over his spine. He could swear it was getting bigger.

Healers Son was amazed, the human was becoming aroused and his earlier comparison to the shtondat was looking more correct by the moment! He had truly meant to only assist the Earth man in learning to fish, but now the warmth of his body and his obvious arousal was making his own penis swell within his sheath. While the Priest class on Kzintosh strictly opposed mating except for procreation, here on the fringes of Kzin society, the moral codes weren’t so strict. Besides, females were scarce and males often had to find other outlets for their urges. The Kzin started moving slowly backwards as they scanned the water for targets. The fish would be seeking the shade of the brush that lined the riverbank. It would also be more secluded.

Zander almost came to a three foot hover when he felt the Kzin’s other hand reach around him to settle on his chest and pull him closer. His furry fishing instructor also began working them back into the branches that hung out over the river. They stopped in the cooler shade and Zander shivered as the hand on his chest started idly massaging him. The body against his back was now noticeably hotter and the Kzin’s member was notably thicker in its fuzzy home. Involuntarily, Zander’s own penis throbbed as his arousal grew more intense. This made his hips move slightly and elicited a soft gasp from Healers Son. The hand on his chest started working its way south. Zander felt a Kzin muzzle as it came to rest on the top of his head.

Healers Son spread his legs into a wider stance, this pressed his sheath up into the fleshy globes that hid the humans sphincter. He simultaneously gripped the human’s penis and licked his ear. “If you wish me to stop, say it now before I can’t... or won’t.” He breathed into Zander’s ear. With a breathy moan the human replied. “Do it.”

Swinging the fishing spear around so it formed a bar across the human’s chest, Healers Son grasped it with both hands to deny it being lost to the current. He then tensed his hips and his penis slid forth into the cold of the water and the heat of man’s fleshy crevice. He growled louder as his tip easily forced its way in past the ring of muscle guarding Zander’s hot tunnel. The human, obviously enjoying the experience gasped then relaxed and pushed himself back, helping Healers Son hilt himself inside the pulsing orifice.

“He’s bigger than I thought” swirled through Zander’s mind as he felt about five inches of Kzinti cock invading his rear. Healers Son began nuzzling the back of his neck and the top of his head wildly. The Kzin was shivering as he held himself as far inside as he could. Then, a complete surprise happened. Zander felt the cock within him begin to swell. The tip and shaft both gained girth and Healers Son began to hump him. The spear swirled away, lost on the river as the Kzin grasped Zander tightly and thrust into him like a runaway machine. He felt a hand around his cock, squeezing him and stroking him. He almost screamed as he felt sharp teeth grasp his shoulder.

The secondary phase of Healers Son’s erection kicked in. The Kzin felt his cock swell and that triggered his hips into action. The pointed head of his feline prick flared out as his shaft swelled, filling his mates hot hole even more. The human was so tight. Healers Son felt the final phase of mating begin and gripped the human as he would a Kzin lover. The hot taste of blood filled his mouth and pushed him over the edge. He thrust his hips forward repeatedly in a blur, gripping the writhing human tighter. His hand worked the males cock wildly as Healers Son felt his penis barbs fan out and begin scraping gently at Zander’s insides. Healers Son threw back his muzzle and roared when his orgasm hit and jet after jet of cum blasted from his tip. He held the male against him until the spasms ceased then, his cock quickly deflating to retreat back inside his sheath, he leapt away from the startled human.

Suddenly unsupported, cold and wobbly, Zander almost pitched face forward into the river. His head cleared and he first looked to inspect the bloody shoulder then spun to face a thoroughly happy Kzin. “I have mated a human. Blacksmith’s Son will not believe me. He mated one of our shtondat when I challenged him. He would not do this on a dare!” Healers Son practically crowed. “Zander-hyooman, I have injured you!” The fact that his erstwhile mate had blood running down his shoulder and chest finally sunk in. “You must return home with me so father and I can bind you!”

Zander grinned without showing teeth. “That’s OK. I’ve had much worse.” He pointed with his chin at the scars lining his other shoulder. “The ‘doc in my ship will fix me up in no time. If you help me cart these fish back to my ship, I’ll prepare them and you can watch human healing skills in action.”

Healers Son quickly agreed to accompany Zander, then tilted his head quizzically. “By what do you mean prepare the fish? Do you not eat it raw?”

“Sushi for two it is” smiled Zander. “Why the hell didn’t I meet you for a fishing lesson two months ago. TANJ!!”

The End