This is an extended version of a scene from Captain Jack and the Race to Redula. The rest of this introduction contains spoilers about that story. If you haven’t read the main tale already, I recommend doing so before reading further.
This scene fits toward the end of chapter 3 of Captain Jack. I wrote it early on with a hazy idea in mind that the character of Keck would act in a “good guy” capacity, a counterpart to Captain Jack’s role in Sam’s adventures. Then eventually there would be some sort of soap opera reveal that would surprise nobody but Sam, where we find out that Keck and Captain Jack are secretly the same person cue the dramatic organ music.
I had great fun inventing the biology of Keck’s species, trying to think of a reason why they would have two male-like sexes. How could such an organism work? What would their society look like? I didn’t put nearly as much into the text as I wanted to because the point of the scene was for Sam and Keck to get it on, but in my head I was building a whole world for this race to live on, imagining what their family lives would be like and making them feel “real”.
One of the key tensions in evolutionary biology is the trade-off between fitting perfectly into a single environment versus retaining adaptability to fit into other environments. If you fit perfectly into your environment, great! You have lots of babies who all fit in perfectly too and you out-compete everyone else and you “win” the survival race… until something changes. Suddenly your perfect adaptations become liabilities, not assets, and the new winner of the survival race is the one who can be flexible. Flexibility means you never fit in perfectly anywhere, but you fit well enough in many different places. Evolutionary pressure tends to push in one direction, then pull back toward the other.
The tarachsian solution is to use both sexual and asexual reproductive strategies – recombination and cloning – and that’s the reason why they have two types of male. This is stuff that fascinates me and I wish I could have kept it in the main story, but it just didn’t fit there and the story was already growing very long. More importantly, I couldn’t find a way to fit Keck back into the story later once Jack had made his appearance, and it would have been frustrating for readers if I were to spend five thousand words developing a character who then disappears and is never seen again. Such a character deserves a half-dozen paragraphs, which is what poor Keck ended up with in the main tale. But I didn’t want to just leave him lying on the cutting room floor.
Here, if you’re interested, is the longer, fuller version of Sam’s tentative, fumbling experimentation with xenophilia. It includes hints of foreshadowing that the simspace AI is rather more powerful than Sam realizes. And it contains an explanation of why Keck’s dick lacks a flared head.
Disclaimer: the following story is a purely fictional account. Any relationship to any real person living or dead is coincidental. The narrative contains consensual male-on-male sexual activity and restraint. It is intended for mature readers who wish to view such material, and for whom it is legal to do so. The author in no way condones or promotes such acts in real life.
Copyright © 2022 by POW. For spam prevention, an animal name has been added to the author’s e-mail address. Remove the animal name to get the actual address: POWauthor zebra at yahoo dot com. This story may be freely copied and distributed so long as it is copied in its entirety, unchanged, including the author credit information and disclaimer. Other POW stories are available at https://powauthor.wordpress.com. The author welcomes feedback.
Keck the Tarachsian Uncle
First up on today’s agenda: a “build your own” porn scenario! Living someone else’s story was fine, but one of the things he had learned in last night’s research was that this system was capable of creating custom scenes based on existing characters and locations. Sam was fairly certain this was not very complex programmatically since coming up with a plot to get a porn sim started really didn’t require much creative thought. Just a matter of getting the right setting and the right props and putting the right people in it.
And “people” included not just humans but aliens! The library contained representatives of several dozen alien races from systems near Earth. There were the familiar hephaestans and warxons, of course, but also chilurreans, dandressi, sin shan gan, hilaxitans, trechubays, zeta garnians…
Including aliens in the porn simulations multiplied the possibilities to the point where, even if he limited the scenes to pairs rather than three-, four-, or more-somes, there was still no way he could experience everything this system had to offer in twenty lifetimes, let alone twenty days.
He resolved to start with something exotic. “Pyrellia, show me a list of all sentient species you have in your porn files. Exclude females.” That got the scope of the choices down to 42, a reasonably manageable number. Each race was represented by a single avatar, but he knew this was an oversimplification. Just as no one human face could adequately convey the huge variety of all humanity, no single image could possibly portray the entire range of chilurrity or dandressiness or hilaxitude. But it made the choosing easier. He eliminated about half of the list right away – many aliens, as it turned out, looked very similar to humans with only small variations like unusual skin coloration or head bumps and ridges. There were reasons for this, reasons that he theoretically had learned about in his xenobiology lectures, but, again: he had been aspiring pilot at the time, focused pretty much exclusively on things that go ZOOM. And on checking out the other aspiring pilots around him, of course, which is why he hadn’t really paid attention to the talks on why so many different evolutionary trees led to such a similar endpoint.
For today’s purposes, though, that question didn’t matter. What mattered was this: Sam wanted to try something truly alien. He had met members of other races in the course of his work with Starmada, but he had never had a chance to have sex with any of them. To be honest, he never had much of an inclination for that either. Some people were drawn to aliens, attracted either to specific species or just aliens in general. Sam’s tastes definitely trended toward human males.
Generally. But not exclusively. This trip was a great opportunity to take a walk on the wild side, as it were. He still wasn’t yet certain whether he wanted to take the dominant role or the submissive one; that decision could be put off until later, once he had selected his partner for the scene. One way to narrow down the list was to rule out any species that was basically a bumpy-headed human look-alike.
What was left was definitely more exotic. There were a few that he eliminated due to size mismatches. Ghopurs, for instance, were only half a meter long with six limbs: two hind legs, two forearms, and then a middle pair that could function as either arms or legs depending on need. The extra limbs might be fun to wrestle with… if the dang thing weren’t so tiny. He crossed the smahallaroids off the list, too. That species was a quasi-hive mind, only fully sentient in packs of five to twenty members. Individual smahallaroids, isolated and deprived of telepathic contact with others of their race, were only about as smart as dogs or dolphins. That just felt icky somehow, more like bestiality than xenophilia. And then there were the k’chenderee, aquatic and about the size of orcas. Again… just too different. He wanted something human-looking enough to be arousing for him, yet different enough to be exciting.
One of the remaining entries caught his eye because unlike all the others, this one showed two faces representing the same species, a race he had never heard of: the tarachsians. He was about to ask the ship for an explanation and then decided it would be more fun to ask the tarachsians themselves. He brought both avatars into existence.
Two beings weren’t there, then suddenly they were. They were bipedal, about Sam’s height, one a few centimeters shorter than the other. They were as naked as Sam, unconcernedly so. Soft penises – very human-like penises – dangled between their legs. Tails about half a meter long dangled down behind. Their bodies were covered with a thin coating of downy fur. The skin of the taller one was a deep red, so dark that from certain angles it appeared brown. Very faint stripe patterns were visible running vertically along his torso, a slight hint of red in both skin and fur alternating with deeper mahogany. The smaller one was a bit lighter in coloration and exhibited the same faint striping. Their faces were close to human in that they had two eyes, two ears, a mouth, and a nose, but the proportions were very different. The eyes were set wide, near the edges of their heads. The ears were like cat’s ears set on top. The nose and mouth protruded like a muzzle, though the lips were hard like a beak instead of soft and flexible like Sam’s own. That would make speech difficult, would it not?
Easy enough to find out. “Hello. My name is Sam. Who are you?”
The shorter one replied. “I am called Paktik; this is Keck.”
Sure enough, the English words were distorted by the beak-like mouth. The “s” and “th” sounds were almost indistinguishable bursts of fuzz, and he was fairly certain that there was something complicated going on with those gutteral consonants, but his brain processed them all as “k” sounds. No matter. He could understand them well enough, and he was not here for a class on xenolinguistics.
“I am not familiar with your species. Are you both males?”
The larger one answered this time. “Paktik is a male. I am an uncle.”
That didn’t make much sense. “What’s the difference between a male and an uncle?”
“Males contribute genetic material to the next generation; uncles do not.”
“But I mean, how do you tell the difference? To my eye you and Paktik look similar. I don’t know what distinction to look for.”
“Well, the most obvious is that Paktik has testicles.” Paktik obligingly lifted his dick out of the way to reveal a pair of very normal-looking balls hanging behind it, though they were rather furrier than most humans’. On Keck’s body, though… the dick was there, but beyond it was an empty void. Sam realized he was staring and brought his eyes back up to face level. “There are other, subtler ways to distinguish, but that is the most visible.”
“So… you’re sterile?”
“Not exactly. Tarachsians have three sexes: females, males, and uncles. Females produce two kinds of eggs. One is the kind you, as a member of a species with only two sexes, are familiar with. It combines with sperm from a male and grows into a new genetically unique individual which could be male, female, or uncle. The other kind of egg is a clone of the mother. This kind of egg must be sparked by an uncle to start developing, and it grows into an exact copy of its mother.”
Sam took a moment to process that. “But… it seems like the uncle doesn’t get anything out of that arrangement. Why would he bother producing a child he’s not related to? Isn’t that an evolutionary dead end?”
“Evolution has invented numerous reproductive strategies, all with varying strengths and drawbacks.” Keck made a little dip of his head which Sam at first reflexively interpreted as a nod of agreement, but then realized that didn’t fit the words. More likely the nod was actually a shrug? Tarachsian gestures and body language were very different from what he was accustomed to, it seemed. “In our society, uncles are expected to pair with closely-related females. Sisters, cousins, aunts, nieces. Hence the English word ‘uncle’ as the translation of our term” – and here he produced a complicated series of clacking sounds that Sam could never hope to recreate. “Our society is built on family units that consist of clone lines: generations of identical women, their non-clone daughters, and their male and uncle children. Most, but not all, non-clone daughters and males strike out on their own to form new families when they grow up; most clone daughters and uncles, but not all, tend to stay at home with the core family.”
Oh wow, the opposite of an incest taboo! One kind of male was expected to go off and sow his wild oats, the other kind was only supposed to sleep with his own sisters, who were themselves just younger versions of his mother! Fascinating (cringe-inducing?) stuff, but… “OK, so that’s how reproductive sex works in your society. Is there… non-reproductive sex? Sex for recreational purposes?”
“Of course. With two genders you have three ways of forming a pair; with three genders we have six combinations available and that’s without considering transgender and non-trinary individuals or those with blends of two or more genders’ traits. In various times and places in our history, non-standard pairings were variously encouraged, tolerated, or despised. Today our society is generally permissive. Even sex with aliens is considered unremarkable. Speaking of which… Paktik and I are characters in a porn sim, are we not? Did you call us up to talk about sex or to actually have some?”
Sam spluttered. Keck stared at him with those weirdly wide-set eyes and it was unnerving to not be able to read either his facial expressions or his body language. Maybe this was a mistake? Maybe he should dismiss these two and stick to more familiar territory? And yet… while the alien’s physique was assertively unlike that of the human males Sam’s own evolutionary history had programmed him to be drawn to, there were enough similarities that it had a certain allure. He could easily picture himself stroking the downy fur of those sleek mahogany flanks, seeing what sort of reactions he could elicit from the skin beneath. And that ball-less dick! That was something he definitely wanted to explore more closely. What sort of emission might he coax out of that shaft? No sperm, but clearly there must be some sort of substance inside waiting to come out.
But he was not keen on being talked down to by a character in a sim. He was the participant here; he was the one in charge! He turned to Paktik, who hadn’t said anything beyond introducing himself at the beginning. “Paktik, thank you for coming, but I believe I’d like to continue with Keck alone.” Paktik gave a slight bow, dipping his muzzle, and then disappeared. Damn, this system was good, with an AI capable of correctly interpreting very vague instructions.
“Now,” he continued. “Yes, Keck, I did call you up to actually have sex with you. I’d like to tie you up as part of that sex. Are you OK with that?”
Keck’s face once again moved in a way Sam could not be certain how to interpret. “Would it matter if I wasn’t? It’s your sim.” Ah. A different sort of shrug, perhaps? Or the tarachsian equivalent of a wry grin?
“Well, true, but I’m looking for a scene where the guy I tie up enjoys being tied. I mean, I could go the non-consensual route, and I probably will some time because a simspace is a perfect…” Sam abruptly cut himself off. Why was he justifying himself to a character in a sim? In fact, why was he talking about sims at all with a character in a sim? None of the other characters he had encountered so far had shown any hint of awareness that they were NPCs in someone else’s game. Maybe it was because Sam had selected the “build your own scene” option and this self-referentiality thing was part of that?
“You know what, it doesn’t matter. Pyrellia, make some rope. Lots of rope. And a gag suitable for use on a tarachsian.” That should take care of the too-much-talking problem!
He tied the tarachsian in a standing spread-eagle against a barred jail-cell-style wall, arms and legs stretched out to the corners, muscles flat and taut. “I’m going for erotic pain here,” Sam told him as he worked the rope, “so if anything hurts in an unerotic way, let me know and we’ll adjust.”
“Understood,” Keck said, obligingly standing still as the ropes went into place around his limbs. When Sam held the gag up, he opened his beak-like mouth willingly and accepted the black rubber ball inside. Sam buckled the straps around the back of his head. Getting a closer look at that opening made him realize that oral sex was probably not something this species enjoyed on a regular basis. Humans could cover their sharp teeth with soft lips in order to provide a welcoming aperture for a penis; tarachsians had no such option. Perhaps Sam might be able to provide Keck with an experience he could never get from a member of his own race, whether male or “uncle”…
He left Keck’s eyes uncovered. Let his sub see what was happening. If there was going to be any more shrugging or non-verbal snark, it wouldn’t matter because Sam wouldn’t even know it was being said.
Ropework finished, Sam stood back to admire his handiwork. The tarachsian looked good all stretched out like that. His fingers occasionally twitched or clenched and he shifted his weight minutely every few seconds, testing the limits that his bondage allowed. Sam approached and ran his hands down the fur-covered torso, feeling his dick start to stiffen up as he caressed the alien’s skin. Keck responded, thrusting his chest forward to greet Sam’s touch.
“You have no nipples!” Sam exclaimed. Keck grunted something in response but the gag kept him from forming anything like coherent words. “I’m sure there’s some explanation,” Sam went on, kneading the muscles where the absent nipples would have been, “but it doesn’t matter. I was just looking for them because in humans, nipples are a particularly sensitive part of the body. Lots of nerve endings.” Stroke, squeeze, stroke, squeeze. “Is this area sensitive for you even without tits? No? Well, I’m sure your body has a similar feature somewhere. And I’m sure I’ll know it when I come across it.”
He let his hands trail lower, stroking the hips, then moving in to caress the thighs, then moving still further inward. He knelt down in front of the bound tarachsian. Keck’s dick had grown fully hard and Sam inspected it at close range. Erect and only a few centimeters from his eyes, Sam realized that the alien prong was not as human-like as it had seemed when soft and viewed from a distance. It was a smooth cylinder with almost no curve to it, no visible veins, and most notably, no head. There was a slit in the end but beyond that, where Sam’s own dick flared outward before narrowing where the head met the shaft, Keck’s instead was smooth skin all the way. It looked more like a finger viewed from the palm side of the hand, just straight walls leading up to a point where they curved over to meet themselves.
All of a sudden Sam recalled reading something long ago: there was a theory that the reason for the penis’s flaring head was that it improved the owner’s chances of becoming a father in cases of multiple matings on the part of the female. It seemed the flared edge acted as a scoop, excavating any previous semen deposits as it pumped in and out, making way for the sperm of the “sloppy seconds” partner. He remembered recoiling when he had first read this; it was not in his nature to contemplate even one episode of the type of sex that caused pregnancies, let alone doing so while the previous gentleman’s contribution was still fresh. And yet here, right in front of his eyes, was evidence that the theory had merit. Keck’s body did not contribute genes. It had no reason to scoop out a previous uncle’s (or male’s) load, thus, no need for a flared head.
He wondered if Paktik’s organ would be more similar to his own, but only for a moment. Then he stopped wondering, captivated by the sight of the shaft before him. It pulsed gently with its owner’s heartbeat, bobbing slightly up and down once a second or so. Tentatively, Sam reached out a tongue to taste it. The coat of fur did not extend to the shaft, which was all bare, smooth reddish-brown skin. It felt warm on his tongue. He opened his mouth and let the dick slide inside, working the surface with his tongue. Keck moaned into the gag… there was at least one bit of non-verbal language that was the same between the two species, it seemed.
He reached up to where the dangling sac would have been on any of his previous partners. Nothing. His fingers met only skin and fur. The legs joined smoothly with the thighs, then curved away to form the ass with no protrusions to break the gentle arcs. He reached up further back, passing over the hole and then, abruptly, his hands met with an obstruction. Oh, right, the tail! The moment he touched it, Keck’s moans doubled in volume and Sam realized he had just found the tarachsian equivalent of nipples: a part of the body that was not directly connected to the genitals but which played a role in sexual stimulation all the same.
Sam let the alien’s dick slip out of his mouth, stood up, and walked around to the back side of the barred wall. Keck’s tail hung there in the air, poking between two of the bars and twitching gently. Sam reached down and wrapped his fingers around the base. Muscles clenched all over Keck’s body – clearly this was a sensitive organ! Sam couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like to have a tail. So many animals on Earth did… why had humans lost theirs? He resolved to be careful with it. Maybe treating the tail like a scrotum was the way to go? Capable of taking a great deal of abuse, but only under certain circumstances.
So he experimented, gripping the base and running his other hand out to the tip. Shivers of delight coursed along Keck’s bound body. Then he tried gripping the tip and running his other hand backward to the base, rubbing all the short fur the wrong way and making weird patterns as on a freshly-vacuumed carpet. Keck thrashed at that but did not cry out in pain. Next Sam tried folding the tail up, curling it around and wrapping it into a bundle small enough to hold in his two cupped hands. This got Keck’s muscles all tense as he pulled against the ropes. Sam held the tail there, wishing he had a third hand so he could reach through the bars and stroke the solidly-hard dick because the tail was too large for him to keep contained with only one hand. What I need is the equivalent of a chastity cage but for the back side.
Well, why not? He let the tail go. It slowly unkinked and gradually got itself straightened out, though the once-sleek fur was now a disheveled mess. One good stroke the correct way along the length would fix that, but Sam kind of liked the dirty, messy look. “Pyrellia,” he said aloud, holding his hands together with the fingers lightly interlaced and space between the palms, “make me a round steel cage about this big. Hinged so that opens into two halves and with a 2.5-centimeter hole in one side.” A cage matching his specifications appeared and Sam picked it up. He showed it to Keck, whose eyes flared in toward the center as if he was trying to focus them on his nostrils. I’m going to assume that means something halfway between “oh no!” and “oh yes!”.
Walking around behind the barred wall once more, Sam opened up the cage and fit the tip of the tail through the hole in its side. He slid the cage all the way down the tail’s length until the metal came up flush with Keck’s body right where the ass met spine. He tied a piece of rope in place, threading it between the cage’s bars and then wrapping it around Keck’s waist and cinching it tight. That would support the weight so it wasn’t all dangling from the tail… although the idea of dangling weight from that appendage probably would also get Keck’s engine revving… and Sam’s as well. Next time, perhaps. This time he started folding the tail up once more, being gentle and deliberate in his movements, but insistent all the same. He pressed the curved coils into the cage, then eased the two halves together, being careful to not trap any bits of skin or fur between the two edges where they met. That took some doing – every time he pressed one part safely out of harm’s way, another managed to slip in. But he eventually got the job done. The cage snicked closed and Sam let it drop so that its weight was held up by the rope.
He went around to the front of the cage where Keck was looking at him and Sam was pretty sure he was reading the expression in those foreign eyes correctly: pleading; desperation; acceptance; submission. Exactly what Sam was hungry for.
“I’m going to hurt you now,” he said. “If it gets to be too much, shake your head side to side like this.” He demonstrated a human “no” signal. “Pyrellia, make me a flogger.” One appeared on the floor. Sam bent and picked it up, then swung it a few times to get used to its weight. Once he had a feel for it, he took a swing at Keck’s chest, easy at first, then gradually increasing the speed and the force. The leather straps landed with satisfying slapping sounds, though the fur muted the crack a bit so that it wasn’t as crisp a sound as bare skin would have made. Wonder how tarachsians feel about being shaved? Something else for next time. For now he was starting to get into the rhythm of the swing.
He spread the blows around, striking the chest, the abs, the thighs, even the arms a few times. If the skin was reddening where the leather struck, it wasn’t showing because of the layer of fur and because both skin and fur already had a reddish cast. But Keck’s gagged shouts each time a blow landed were enough feedback for Sam to know that his efforts were having the desired effect. He stroked his dick with his left hand while swinging the flogger with his right. Not too much, don’t want to shoot too soon. Keck’s dick, he noticed, remained rock-hard throughout.
At last, when he had worked up a good sweat, he dropped the flogger to the floor and once more knelt to take the headless cock into his mouth. He sucked hard on it, working his own dick at the same time with his right hand and using his left to grope up between the tarachsian’s legs, tracing the hole and the base of the caged tail and occasionally poking his fingers through the bars to touch a random bit of skin or fur that could be at the tip or the base or any point in between. The lack of balls continued to catch him by surprise. Every time he took Keck’s dick deep into his throat, he marveled that there was no bag of skin for his chin to press up against, no hanging balls for his fingers to grab onto to help pull his face close. Just… nothing. It was weird how the absence of something could be erotic, but somehow it was.
Keck’s voice suddenly started rising in pitch and once again there was a similarity in body language: he was getting close, unmistakably so. Sam shifted his hands to the dick and the moment he felt the first pulses of orgasm, pulled his mouth off and continued stroking with his right hand while holding his left in front of the straining cock. A second later, fluid began to spurt out. Sam caught most of it in his palm though a few drops sprayed here and there. He kept it up until Keck’s moans changed in pitch, then eased off on the stroking and pressure, slowly ramping the sensations down.
When he finally released his grip, he looked down to examine the contents of his hand. It was thick like the semen he was familiar with, but completely clear. It sat there on his palm looking like liquid glass, like water but strangely thick and viscous. He poked at it with a finger. It stuck and smeared just like the stuff he was used to without losing its glassy clarity. He caught Keck’s eyes to make sure his victim was watching, then coated his own dick with the substance that had just sprayed out of Keck’s. It didn’t take long. Soon he was spraying his own load all over Keck’s belly and thighs, with a few drops landing on Keck’s slightly-softened dick – a mirror exchange of bodily fluids.
He stood with his eyes closed for a moment, enjoying the aftershocks and squeezing the last few dribbles out. My first alien blowjob. Not bad! Though he would not want the favor returned, not with that beak. He opened his eyes, saying “All right, let’s get you out of those ropes” as he did but, to his surprise, Keck already had one hand free!
“How did you…?” Sam spluttered, but of course Keck couldn’t answer, not with the gag still securely tied in his mouth. Sam looked at the now-empty rope. The knot was still tied. He looked over at Keck’s other hand in time to catch how the trick was done. The tarachsian somehow shifted the bones in his hand, sliding the thumb toward the palm in a way that humans could do, but much more extremely so. The result was a hand no wider than the wrist and with a bit of wiggling and pulling – but with no assistance from the free hand – he was able to work the rope up toward the fingertips bit by bit until the whole hand came free. With both hands loose, Keck made short work of the gag and soon had it out of his mouth.
“Thank you,” he said. “That was most agreeable. Your mouth is capable of things no tarachsian’s can accomplish.”
“But… the rope… your hand…?”
“Your thumbs don’t shift like that? I wondered when you only tied my wrists and not my forearms and elbows. It seemed like token bondage rather than the real thing, so I played along.”
“So… you could have gotten out of the ropes any time you wanted?” Sam couldn’t stop focusing on the fact that his supposedly-secure bondage work had been so swiftly dismantled.
“Yes. But it seemed to be important to you so I stayed where you put me. My arms were getting sore by the end, though, and it seemed you were finished, so…” He trailed off as he bent to free one of his feet, feet that were apparently not capable of the same contortionist act that the hands were. Sam bent down to help with the other foot. This was… he wasn’t sure how he felt about this. Sure, it was consensual bondage, but somehow knowing that the bondee could have escaped any time he wanted to made it feel fake. Pretend. Make-believe.
Oh well. It was still a good session overall. His body felt good, energized from the flogging.
“This tail cage,” Keck said, “is difficult for me to reach. Would you be so kind…?” He turned around and Sam set about freeing the caged appendage. “Gently!” Keck urged as the cage came open and the curls began to unkink themselves. Sam caught the loops of skin and fur and carefully helped straighten them out, then slid the remaining part of the cage off once the tail was back to its normal shape. It still looked pretty bedraggled after its confinement, so he gave it a few strokes to try to settle the fur back into its normal pattern. Keck emitted a little noise at that, somewhere between a purr and a growl, so Sam left it at that.
“Well, thank you,” Sam said. “I found that… how did you say it? ‘Most agreeable’ as well. I loved that glassy stuff you sprayed out. Is that what male tarachsians produce too, or is the clear version specific to uncles?”
“Just uncles. Male semen is cloudy-looking and tan in color.”
“And the tail… clearly that is a sensitive organ.”
“Yes. Tails feature heavily in all forms of sex for us. So much so, in fact, that I was wondering how it could possibly work for you without one. Clearly you have workarounds. The fact that you can get your mouth involved opens up many options for you, it seems. Still, I will continue to prefer the tail, I think. Your technique of confining it was very erotic, by the way. I kept wanting to tense it and thrash it around and was frustrated every time. It was a delicious sort of frustration.”
Ha! Tail chastity! Who’d have thought? “I’m glad that worked out,” Sam said.
They chatted a few minutes more. Sam chuckled inside about the idea of sharing after-care with an NPC, but he was enjoying the wind-down as well, so he went along with it. He learned that the absence of nipples was because tarachsians were more like Terran birds than mammals. The females laid eggs, which were tended both before and after hatching by all three sexes equally. Keck was rather disgusted at the idea that baby humans ate body secretions from their mothers for the first year of their lives, while Sam was equally appalled at how tarachsians would regurgitate half-digested meals to feed to their young. It was a good transition away from sex and back to his day job. He really did need to check that the ship was still on course and on schedule. It would be, of course, but he would feel guilty if he didn’t keep verifying every now and then.
Eventually it was time to call the scene to a halt and Sam actually felt a bit of remorse and even discomfort as he dismissed Keck back to non-existence. Keck had become so real to him that it seemed rude, even immoral, to cause him to simply cease to be. No other synthesized character had ever inspired that reaction. It was just one more mark of how sophisticated this simspace was and how advanced its controlling AI. He bid farewell to the tarachsian and then was left standing alone in the empty room with only the barred wall where he had (ineffectually!) tied Keck as a reminder of the scene. Abandoned toys – ropes, the flogger, the tail cage – lay haphazardly wherever they had been discarded. It was a mournful sight, even a depressing one.
It’s just post-orgasm letdown. I’ll horn back up again in a few hours and be eager to go again, he told himself. Aloud, he merely said “Pyrellia, end program.” The barred wall and the toys shimmered and vanished. He turned around and left the simspace, heading for the control room so he could spend a few minutes pretending he had some actual function to perform on this fully-automated-and-self-sufficient ship.