Magarce Kinstrsse Tentresery was five. The sky was blue. The grass was very green- except where it was red, for Magarce had scratched her playmate’s nose. Her tiny claws were sharper than anyone suspected- in fact, they were sharper than protocol allowed, and little Morc had discovered this when roughhousing with the tiny, grey-pointed kitten. He was now crying, and Magarce was crying, and the mothers hastened to separate them- or, rather, Magarce’s mother and Morc’s creche mother did this, which amounted to the same thing on Ause and the few other Nerre planets.

Morc’s creche mother was Sess, who looked slightly askance at Rois Tentresery- who was comforting her little girl with complete unconcern for the only child actually bleeding.

“Rois, if I may suggest, ‘aons? Her claws may want trimming, perhaps they have gone too long between trims?”

Rois fussed over her little Magarce. “Oh- I don’t trim them, dear. Now then…”

Sess’s ears went back, slightly. While there was no specific protocol requirement for the trimming of infant claws, it was widely accepted, as a way to delay the indispensable training for protocol. Children were taught that only with acceptance of the many rules and techniques of protocol could one possess the birthright of Nerre- weaponry, sexuality, all the adult things. Before then, Nerre kittens were kept in their place, and the coming of age was intimately associated with responsibility.

Sess was at a loss. “It… I… Surely you see, ‘aons, she has injured my child? It would seem that a trim of her claws should occur, ‘aons, before further bloodshed, ‘aons.” She stacked up the ‘vraonse’ short-forms like mad, trying to accomodate the social situation when confronted with the outrageous. Rois Tentresery was a sort of noblewoman, and nobody had accused the Tentreserys of being False for generations. They had always been beyond reproach, and now this?

Rois glanced at the homelier, more motherly Nerre with a flashing smile, perked ears, the full Tentresery charisma on display. “Oh, but see her, my baby is tiny! It is only fair, ‘aons, she could come to harm so easily!”

Now Sess’s ears were well back. “Um. In that case, though it is unheard of, we shall teach her. Little one, there is a word you must know, that begins all learnings, for it is the word of warning. Listen carefully, for I will say lonne vrironste dersur, and if ever you hear that V-word said by itself…”

“Please,” said Rois, “I do not like you to say that word to her, ‘aons.”

“Then you explain it,” said Sess, “if she is to go bare-clawed at such an age.”

“I hardly think that is necessary.”

“Then,” called Sess, trembling with outrage, her tail bristling, “you will trim her claws?”

But there was no response, for Rois Tentresery had gathered up tiny Magarce in her arms, like a baby, and was stalking wordlessly away…

Magarce Kinstrsse Tentresery was ten.

“Magarce?”

“Yes, mother?”

“It’s the school again. They say you have failed to respond to the escalation of a conflict within the demands of protocol…”

“Mother!”

Rois looked in the door. She looked more than five years older, looked troubled, as if there was some detail in her life that waited to be revealed, some detail that would prove horribly wrong.

“Well, it’s true, dear. That is twice this month. What happened?”

“If it’s Tombe, he lies. He’s lying, mother, I would never pink his pawpad to make it harder for him to do schoolwork…”

“How do you know that is wh..”

“He always says that, mother! He lies. Tell them that he lies.”

Rois looked harried. “Of course I will, darling, but please, try to understand what it costs your mother. It seems as if you aren’t aware of the meaning of it… I can use my position as the last in a long line of True Nerre to assert such a thing, but each time I do, darling, someone’s child must stand as False…”

“Big deal!”

“But it is, dear. You mustn’t treat it so lightly. I know it is only a honorific, but… well, think for a moment about what it means, what I do for you. Our line has been True for generations. We have always conducted ourselves with the utmost in honor and delicacy, and so now, if I tell the school that the other child lies, it is understood that I would not say this if I could not trust that it were so…”

“I’m telling you!” protested Magarce.

“No, listen, ‘aons… as a result of this, that child’s life is touched from that point on. I know it is said that the False in their numbers make up most of our kind, but do you understand the promise of the True- the deep beauty of that fact that any Nerre, from any source, may be True if they simply devote themselves to correct behavior in all things from birth, without fail? You ask me to destroy that for a child I have never met.”

“He’s a lying stinker!” cried Magarce. “You’ve got to, mother!”

“But,” said Rois, “if he is not, and you have me use my position to injure another dishonorably, which would be unthinkably False…”

Magarce didn’t bother to argue further in words. She burst into tears, with wails that could be interpreted as “you won’t help me”, abandoning logic to strike at her mother where her mother was weakest and most blind.

Rois rushed over, embracing her, comforting, promising to trust her precious child, and the argument, such as it was, was over.

Unseen to Rois, as Magarce wept and shook, her eyes opened for a moment and revealed a calculating look that gave the lie to her apparent distress.

It was all so easy, and seemed like it would always work.

It was good to have advantages.

Magarce Kinstrsse Tentresery was fourteen.

“Darling, there are things I must explain to you…”

“Darling, there are things I must explain to you…” mocked Magarce.

“Magarce! Please! I have only your interests at heart, you must know that, ‘aons!”

“Funny, you talk about my interests, but it always seems like you just want to tell me what to do…”

“You’re getting to a certain age, it’s very important.”

“All right, all right, what is the latest mother wisdom this time? Cough it up and then leave me alone.”

“Well, that’s just what I won’t do, precious. I’m trying to talk to you good and early, because you won’t always BE alone, if you follow me.”

“What, exactly, are you suggesting?” snapped Magarce, immediately defensive.

Her mother was chastened. “Don’t be upset with me, ‘aons! I know it may be hard to believe, but… you might find you are having… impulses.”

“Go on.” said Magarce, coolly.

“I’m talking about sexual impulses, darling. I know you are my little one, but still, it is almost inevitable, as much as the thought terrifies me. Even if you were not injured in the act, a pregnancy for you would be terribly dangerous. There’s an herb we take to protect against this- but I must, must, must warn you of some of the other dangers…”

“Of what,” asked Magarce contemptuously, “impulses?”

“You just convince me that you will not understand.” said Rois softly. “And I am terrified for you.”

“That’s good of you. How helpful that is.”

“How to make you understand, that, that as Nerre our sexuality is the most bound to protocol… you simply must learn the forms. As a female you have some license, because it is expected that you will go cross-eyed with desire at times- I know it seems ridiculous, darling, but you have no idea, you will be shocked at yourself, the things that come into your head…”

“Go on.” said Magarce.

Rois did, frantically trying to take advantage of the moment of cooperation. “And our rules are to protect us, they give a path through all situations without bloodshed when we could destroy each other in fits of rage and violence. Our claws and teeth are not ours to use as we see fit, they belong to our world and must be kept in check…”

“Oh, that again…”

“No, listen, ‘aons! My little darling, listen! We learn these forms of courtship and lovemaking to avoid situations that could cause bloodshed… no, please don’t look away! I’ll be quick. I… er… let us say the first rule is that you must always make love with males one at a time. It all derives from that, really, from your ability to choose and invite and reject. The males will be very competitive but they must respect your direction always… even as things get, um, loud…”

Magarce lifted an eyebrow. “Loud?”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand.” said Rois. “It must seem absurd to you, even dreadful…”

Magarce seized her opportunity. “It does! Leave me! Don’t tell me any more of this horrible stuff, I will never do that! I don’t want to know any of your awful rules!”

Rois was skeptical. “But… the consequences of not knowing them…”

“Out!” shrieked Magarce, and her flustered mother retreated, to flee to her own room and burst into tears.

Magarce nodded in satisfaction. She’d won, again. Mother had been chased off, and she’d even managed a useful smokescreen, that was thoroughly deceptive and would serve her well.

This herb was made available at school, and she had stolen some of it without being seen- it was simply given away, but it was more exciting to steal it because you could avoid the endless lectures on protocol that everybody including Mother so insisted on giving. And it was necessary, because Magarce didn’t know when she would become fertile, but had no intention of making babies while there was new fun to be had.

Morc had obliged her, though even he tended to drone boringly on about protocol, as if that mattered- but he was entrancingly fierce when he’d fit his penis into her, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it and wanting more of that, which was a new development and a new world to conquer. The fact that it was a big secret only improved it. The vaguely compelling feelings plaguing her had suddenly become incredibly specific, and Magarce didn’t get what she wanted by politely following rules.

She would have to see what else could be done. Perhaps there was something special about these prohibited things she needed to know about. Mother had dropped a few clues to look into.

Magarce Kinstrsse Tentresery was sixteen.

The door was closed. Rois Tentresery ignored the sounds coming from behind it with brittle composure. The voices, the cries were only what one would expect. And she did not, could not, hear three voices coming from Magarce’s room, because she had seen only one boy go in there, and her baby would not sink to some depths of depravity. Things that were unbearable, they would not happen, were not happening so long as she did not open that door. There were no sounds coming from in there, and her paws were not shaking. Another drink would help them not shake even better.

There was a knock at the front door. More a banging, really.

When Rois opened it, vengeance stood outside.

Her heart sank, as she saw her neighbor Aisi and another figure, who stood very quietly, a stray gleam of razored metal coming from his claws. He was black-furred, though of course they could be any color. He was Hse-Nerre, soldier of protocol, the only police Nerre suffered themselves to have.

“You will produce my son, ‘aons.” said Aisi, in a tense, strained voice.

“I do not understand.” said Rois. “He is not here.”

“He most certainly is, for I watched him climbing in the window. Your girl is a bad influence. Produce my son before he is dishonored.”

“I’m sure he did not,” protested Rois, “and how can you say…”

“It is his voice!” cried Aisi.

It was a groan, from behind the bedroom door. It combined with another, overlapping just enough to establish that there were two voices. And then- a bold, guttural wail, much higher pitched, scornful and triumphant. It could only be Magarce.

“Open that door, ‘aons!” cried Aisi. “My son is there!”

“N… no…” stammered Rois, wringing her paws. “No one is there…”

At this, the Hse-Nerre’s tail bristled, hard, though his expression did not change. Emotional situations were a risk in the line of duty for Hse-Nerre, for they could be called upon to slay anyone so far beyond protocol that no redemption was deemed possible. His mere presence would normally be enough to compel any Nerre to the greatest caution. He would normally have to weigh the claims of adversaries, determine the course of action while the Nerre in question tried every polite argument to win his approval. At other times, he would watch for signs of berserker rage, ready to kill other Nerre that went mad in fighting mode beyond the dictates and safety-words of protocol, or became so crazed by lust that they would rape and ravage. Much of his job was to be a safeguard against blind impulse.

Nobody had ever stood before him and told pathetic, obvious lies before. To call this alarming would be understating things dreadfully. It suggested brokenness on a level he had never imagined, and he instinctively wanted to refuse the brokenness and believe Rois- but then another lusty yowl came through the door, and the conflict was impossible to bear.

The Hse-Nerre took two quick steps, leaped, and kicked the door in, causing it to fly open violently, its lock and latch mechanism shattered by the impact.

Behind it, one of the ultimate wrongnesses that could ever be.

Underneath, Morc snarled as he ground against Magarce’s taut little rump, so lost in the sensations of her feverish ass that he did not so much as notice the door being kicked in, clutching her to him in savage delight. On top, Aisi’s son, Daure, crouched over Magarce, her feet up by his shoulders as he so obviously strained to shove his cock as deeply into her as he could. Her tail quivered, sticking straight out to the side, bristling, her head nuzzling his chest as the two males ravaged two of her holes with heedless ferocity- until the door wasn’t a door anymore, but a portal revealing immediate death.

Even then, it was not certain what would happen, for motivation mattered. But it did not take long for things to be certain.

Magarce and Daure saw their doom first, followed a split second later by Morc.

Daure cried, “Mom?”

Morc shook his head, roared “Kill you, you stupid…” at Daure, somehow thinking he had invited his family to see.

But Magarce doomed them both in an instant, thinking very quickly indeed.

“Help! Votrontre!” Or, ‘wrongness of being raped by a pack of lust-maddened males’.

Hearing that, the Hse-Nerre moved very fast, and very efficiently. In an instant, Daure was falling away from between Magarce’s legs, his throat slashed so deeply that his head nearly fell off, still trying to cry ‘Mom’ without a connection between lungs and vocal cords. Magarce was flung to the side, her tiny form not offering much resistance other than being hard to pull off Morc’s dick- and Morc collapsed, cut at wrists and throat to stop him lashing out in turn. Only then did the avenging Hse-Nerre turn to see what became of the girl he had rescued.

The wrongness had not stopped with the deaths of the rapists, it seemed.

Magarce took shelter behind her mother, and was screaming at Aisi, who shrieked back, blinded by tears. Between them, Rois Tentresery stood, strangely unreacting, staring at nothing.

“You should die! You lured him here, you asked him to do this, monster!”

“I did not! Mother, tell her I didn’t! They came in and attacked me!”

“Oh yes, you sounded very attacked, didn’t you? You killed my son, you led him to this!” Aisi was shaking, out of control.

“You better be careful! Mother will support me. She is a True Nerre, they have to believe her! Our whole family has been True for generations, how dare you? Mother, tell her!”

The Hse-Nerre stared at Rois Tentresery. Aisi stared at her. Magarce waited, whined, “Mother! Take my side! You have to!” as semen dripped down her petite leg.

Rois stared at nothing. With dreamlike slowness, she reached out, up- extended claws- and with a convulsive movement of horrifying, urgent strength, Rois ripped open her own throat.

Even Aisi was too shocked to react for a moment. Vritanste was unheard-of: since Hse-Nerre had taken over policing of protocol violation, Nerre did not destroy themselves of shame. They defered to authority and did not behave as if situations could become too wrong to sustain life- the Hse-Nerre saw to it that Nerre did not take such things into their own hands. Until now. Rois sagged, dropped to the floor.

By the time they realized what Rois’s suicide implied- that her honor had long been a charade, that she had been asked one too many times to lie, that it had been going on for years, that very likely all her previous defenses had been lies as well… Magarce was already out the window.

It had been a rough night. She’d fled into the darkness, avoiding anything Nerre in the belief that she would be hunted down, making for the spaceport in hopes of somehow stowing away on a ship and fleeing the planet. Once there, she quickly figured out that there was one thing about Nerre spaceports- they were used to transport Nerre on-and-off-planet, and she skulked around the edges of buildings, trying to work out a new plan.

She hadn’t eaten for days, and was both twitchy and weak, and it was surely for that reason that the big Runge was able to sneak up on her and tap her on the shoulder as she peered around the corner of a spaceship hangar.

“Gyah!”

“Whoa!” rumbled the Runge. “Settle down! I just don’t like people poking around my ship… hey, what’s the matter? Are you a lost kid?”

Magarce clawed at the air, stammered, and then burst into unfeigned tears and clung to the guy, to his outright astonishment.

“Holy shit. Uh- yeah. If you would… ow! grab on a little less tightly there, not so much with the claws… ow… and we’ll, we’ll bring you home to your Mom…”

“My mom’s DEAD.” managed Magarce. She did lighten up a bit on the claws.

“Uh, we won’t be doing that then… I know, maybe we could bring you to the, um, police… they’ve got something like police here, it’s a little complicated and I’m not sure I understand it…”

“Oh, no! No, please don’t!” begged Magarce. “Please, hide me!”

The Runge guy looked confused. He tentatively petted Magarce’s back, only to realize that the diminutive Nerre was entirely unclothed. “What’re you doing out here without…”

“Quickly! Please! You’ve got to!”

The combination of little, cute, and determined worked its magic as it so often did, and the next thing Magarce knew, she was being shooed onto the guy’s ship, her butt being patted to hurry her on. He hastened after her, the gangplank began raising with a whine of small motors, and as it shut out the world, she studied her new friend. He seemed like a big guy, though perhaps it was just his alien species causing that. He panted and seemed flustered, asking, “So, will this be all right?”

Magarce suddenly realized that she wasn’t sure if her usual weapons would help her. This guy could neither be intimidated by loss of honor, or tempted by forbidden fruits. She wasn’t even sure if these creatures had penises- she’d never seen a Runge in person, and didn’t know how they worked. Before she could think, she blurted out, “Do you have penises like a real person?”

The guy’s jaw dropped. “How many do you usually expect?”

“Oh no, there’s usually just one. I’m sorry, I was…”

“What the hell? Who are you and why are you asking about…”

Magarce scampered over and hugged him again, avoiding any hint of claws. “Don’t be offended! I just thought maybe I could do something special for you for helping me. Know what I mean?”

The Runge looked down at her, his expression a strange mix of interest and horror. “I think maybe you’re out of your damn mind. I mean, I’ve been away from home for a while, but look at you! What were you proposing?”

Magarce nuzzled the guy’s coarsely furred chest through his shirt. “I need you to help me. Get me off this planet so I can be safe, and I’ll do anything you like.”

“You’ve got to get off planet before you’ll be safe? Who are you, what did you do?”

Magarce drew back, stared up at the Runge with compelling blue eyes. “I’m Magarce. I had sex, lots of it, several different ways, even two ways at once.”

“But not with Runge!”

“Not yet! You have to let me use your ship or they’ll kill me. Which is SO unfair!”

“Um, yeah.” said the Runge, who didn’t sound convinced. “I’m Jens- Benseln Jens.”

“I’ll call you Benjen.” purred Magarce. “As a term of endearment.”

“I deserve endearment?”

“You’ll be my crew! You deserve all sorts of good things. But first, you’ve got to get me out of here!”

Benseln had already fueled up, and required little convincing- he was prepared to leave anyhow, and very soon Magarce was staring fascinatedly out the window as the ship soared upward, first in powered flight and then faster and faster as the atmosphere thinned, finally attaining escape velocity in a steady battle of thrust against diminishing air resistance.

“That was the best thing ever!” sighed Magarce.

“I guess I got you off-planet, huh?”

“You sure did! Now it’s my turn to get you off. What are Runges like?”

Benseln Jens didn’t reply, or get up from his pilot’s seat. He glanced sideways, his face at breast level even though Magarce was standing, and looked her up and down. He reached out, and the grasp of his hand went halfway around her waist, just about.

“You are crazy. I’ll rescue you from whatever it was, for nothing. Give up these ideas. First of all it tortures me, and second, there’s no way I’m going to hurt you. Seriously, forget it.”

“Tortures you how?” demanded Magarce.

“I am single, you know. If I was mated, I wouldn’t be out running pl… never mind!”

“Running what? Were you going to say, pleristre? You were! Have you got some?”

Benseln stared at her in horror. “Holy crap! Don’t tell me you’re on drugs too?”

“I’ve heard of it.” said Magarce primly. “I like sex better. Why would you be taking it away from Ause? It’s only for Nerre, silly.”

“Um. There’s Nerre on the Runge worlds as well. Enough to make it really, really profitable. The cops are only worried about Runge drugs, so it’s a nice little loop-hole… if I can get it off Ause, I don’t even have to be careful. Except, I will if you’re an addict, unless I want you a drooling puddle for the whole trip.”

“Certainly not. At least not for that reason. I still need to reward you, do you not like Nerre girls? Are you gay? You could do me like a boy, though that’s not my favorite way, not all by itself…”

“You’re really stubborn, Mags sweetie. And really aggressive! You don’t care that you’ve only just met me?”

“Of course not. If I like it, I’ll keep you. Don’t be such a baby, it’s a perfectly natural thing. Haven’t you seen Nerre have sex? We try to be polite about it but Nerre have very strong drives and we’ve learned to get along with them.”

“Yes, I sure have. You guys… sometimes it’s right out in the street! I think it’s really hot, and yes I like Nerre, but quit teasing me. Or I don’t know, I could use my finger or something…”

“I’m insulted! Why are you being such a pain?”

“You so obviously haven’t had any Runge. I don’t see how you could, honestly. Trust me. Put it this way- I won’t fit, and I’ll hurt you.”

“Oooh.” said Magarce. “You’re only making it worse.”

“I’m not joking!”

“Neither am I.” purred Magarce, whose tail was now flicking around agitatedly. “Can’t you smell it on me?”

“Don’t even remind me. Okay, look! Look, here’s what we’ll do. This is my first and only offer. We’re gonna go back to my bunk. I’ll finger you, I’ll lick you, whatever won’t hurt you, and you can paw me off, and you’ll fucking well figure it out by the time we’re done, and then, quit trying to get me to fuck you! I’m telling you, there’s no way.”

Magarce’s eyes lit up. “Let’s go!”

Benseln’s bunk was appalling. The lupine smuggler didn’t expect company, and didn’t enjoy chores such as laundry, so the bed reeked of wolf- both body odor, and the aftermath of many lonely nights doing the solo Runge thing- namely, masturbating and then putting a death-grip behind the knot and blissing out, pretending it was a tie. Benseln briefly wondered if it was safe to get the kitty to do this, and then remembered the claws- probably not.

“Hey, this stinks.” said Magarce.

“Good, we won’t do it then…”

“But it stinks very interestingly. Is this what your genitals smell like, then?”

“…pretty much.”

“Show me! Show me, darling Benjen.” Magarce bounced. Her little breasts bounced with her. Benseln’s jaw dropped.

“Um. I’ll say this much, this is going to be a lot more interesting than pictures, or even videos…”

His pants dropped. There was a peek of glistening red, protruding out of his furry sheath. It smelled much like the wreck of his bed. It slipped out more to the touch of his hand- and all the more, when Magarce’s joined the fun.

“You silly! That’s not so… I mean, it… I think… oh.”

Benseln looked warily at Magarce, but her ears were back and she wasn’t trying to get into any sort of position. In fact, as second after second ticked by, the little Nerre’s tail began to bristle in alarm, though she played it cool. He caught her squeezing speculatively through his sheath, as if in disbelief, and he chuckled- he knew he wasn’t exactly stiff yet.

“Scooch around- I promised you I’d use my finger.” Benseln licked the finger, sloppily.

Magarce gulped, then smirked. “Don’t have to ask me twice!” She slid up next to Benseln, rubbing her body against his side, her paw fondling his balls, and allowed his hand to slip down between her legs. “Do you need me to do much? NNnnnhhh!”

Benseln grinned. “I might not even need to touch myself- if I’m touching you.” He was, intimately, already. His finger wiggled, twisted a little like a cork being pressed into a bottle, worked deeper into Magarce’s body. “I daresay you’ll be quite exciting enough.”

Magarce panted, and stared with wide eyes at Benseln’s equipment as it gradually became fully stiff. She understood now. That wolf cock was the size of half her arm. It glistened and seemed a very weird blunt shape and she was grateful he’d been cautious. Her eyes stayed locked on the thing as the lupine finger began to wriggle and pet, moving awkwardly inside her slick, taut confines. Magarce moaned, nuzzling Benjen, rubbing her petite breasts against his side.

“Oh yeah.” breathed the Runge smuggler. His finger worked busily, and the little feline shuddered and crooned, her eyes shut in transports of bliss- and then they opened, and Magarce cried, “Whoa, hey, what the hell is that?”

“You don’t know Runge. That’s how we work.”

“Are you kidding? hhhh! mmmh… howdoesiteven, hhh… what?”

“Best just imagine this, okay? Listen carefully…” rumbled Benseln, as he caressed his sheath behind the rapidly swelling knot, and worked his finger inside snug kittypuss. Magarce did listen carefully, if not silently.

“It is… a knot… how we work is… I push it in, all the way… and that swells… up INSIDE you…”

“Ohmygod! hhh!”

“…’s called a tie… and you’re stuck on me while I come and come and…”

“nnYOWWWLLL!” Magarce’s pert vagina began clenching at his finger.

“Ohboy!” grunted Benseln, and with a jerk of his hips, he began spurting thin tracers of clear fluid into the air, over their shoulders and against the wall.

Magarce writhed and shrieked as Benseln worked his finger, cried out entrancingly and pressed shuddering against him. When he had left her exhausted and limp, he withdrew, and cuddled her to his side. Eventually, she was able to speak, if a bit hoarsely. “You’re still going?”

Benseln nodded. “Yeah. It’s gonna keep going for a while.”

“…amazing…”

“You see why I warned you, though?”

“I guess.” said Magarce. She yawned languidly. “I bet I could take part of it though. Not the swelly thing…”

“Whoa, don’t talk like that.” said Benseln. “I had my finger in you, remember? No you can’t. You were pretty tight.”

Magarce said nothing. She figured she’d played with toys nearly as big, though it had left her sore and she’d shied away from further experimenting in that direction. Morc had… when he was alive, at least, he’d said she shouldn’t make herself needlessly loose. Now he was not around to express a preference.

Magarce said nothing as her thoughts wandered to dwell on the dead. She simply allowed the Runge’s powerful arm to encircle her and draw her close, and she stared at nothing, considering the outcome of rules and the outcome of freedoms, and the stink of stale wolf come comforted her with its alienness.

Eventually, they slept, and Magarce saw to it that every night thereafter, she snuggled up to Benjen. After a few nights, she persuaded him to wash the bedding and clean up a bit, and from that point on the smells of him were even more ravishing, fresher and healthier. At first she couldn’t tell the difference, but she learned quickly. She learned that she could lick his nuts with her scratchy little tongue and it packed an extra charge for him, perhaps due to the tugging on his fur. She also learned that she couldn’t lick his actual cock without causing him to yelp- it was surprisingly sensitive for something so bludgeon-ly.

While the ship traveled to the Runge homeworld, Magarce and her new lover played, and she explored what she could of him, while he steadily grew more sick with infatuation. Benseln would lift her, fondle her hungrily, lick and finger her while savoring her cries of ecstacy. Magarce considered that she was in love, which she defined as “I want him constantly and fiercely”, and she nagged Benseln determinedly about his refusal to enter her with more than just fingers- he’d been persuaded to try two, and a little scissor-kicking movement within the petite feline had brought on wild shrieks and writhing and been added to the repertoire, but he continued to insist that his penis wasn’t for the likes of her.

Magarce kept snuggling up to Benjen to sleep, and scheming- waiting for a certain situation to arise. And one night, she came groggily awake to realise that it was beginning to happen…

Magarce was cuddled spoon-fashion, on the inside, wrapped in Benseln’s arms, but what had her attention was a solid pressure against her rump, something beginning to protrude between her legs. Benjen was having a nice dream, and he was going to end up sticking out between her thighs. Magarce could already feel the bulk of him. She came awake in a hurry, biting back a lurid, guttural cry as her dainty vagina surged into action, pouting and lubricating as if a fever had been poured into her pelvis from some sort of erotic bucket. Magarce went from uneasy sleep to teeth-clenching heat in just a few seconds, as she felt the wolf cock swell against her there.

He was going to poke out between her legs any moment- she could feel him shift, uncomfortable in his arousal, and briefly she panicked and wondered if she should let him do that, for fear that she would wake him after all. Yet there was no chance of that happening while her body craved him so fiercely. There was only one thing to do.

Magarce carefully presented her pussy at a better angle, arching her butt directly at him, squeezed her thighs together, put her paw between her legs for good measure, and blocked any escape for Benjen’s swelling cock… but one.

He stirred, whimpered, his hips wriggling slightly, and Magarce answered him with utter silence and exploratory wriggles of her own slim hips. She felt the pressure shift, butting against her mons, felt Benjen squirm and draw back in his sleep and then all at once he was tucked in snugly, right at her entrance, and her heart leapt into her throat, pounding violently, and she gritted her teeth together and held very still as she felt him dreamily pushing.

Runge precome was crazy slippery. Magarce knew this, she’d played with it, and now she depended on that fact as Benjen’s body felt the reinforcement of its dreams, as he stiffened further while remaining stubbornly outside her. The blunt, fat, alien wolf cock nestled within the scant outer folds of Magarce’s pussy, pressing more and more urgently against what she felt as a band of tightness that resisted further entry, that claimed it wasn’t going to be possible. Her feline vagina quivered in a frenzy of arousal and rejection, saying it was very excited but this would no more fit in her than a spaceship would.

More precome oozed against her, and she felt it seeping into her, forced deeper by the pressure that left no room for it to escape. Magarce didn’t dare move, for fear she would wake Benjen at this crucial moment, but she almost didn’t dare not wake him, for the thought came to her mind- this isn’t going to work.

As she entertained that thought, Benjen’s arms tightened around her with dream-slowness, and his body shifted, and the gates to Magarce’s Nerre pussy were pried open with inexorable force, the bluntness wedging into that band of unyielding flesh and, slickened by precome, steadily thrusting through it.

Magarce bared her teeth, remaining still and silent by some miracle of will even though the sensations were ripping the top of her head off. Her tail bristled, her eyes rolled back, she went very stiff- but through it all, as that obscene bulk wedged itself deeper, Magarce could not escape the sense that this must not stop. It was savagely painful but the same bulk that was tormenting her with its girth, was also pressing deeper and deeper inside her, and she had never felt anything the least bit like it. Her body shuddered violently, and without thought to the incongruity, demanded both that the thickness quit hurting her, and that the delicious bulk thrust to her utter depths and sate her- and transfixed by the conflicting, unbearably intense feelings, Magarce froze in silence, her only motion the shivery bristling of her tail, and stared at nothing with mad, wild eyes as Benjen steadily entered her.

He whimpered a bit, in his sleep. Magarce was in no position to reassure him. Her pussy felt like a steel band, being stretched until it made metallic creaking sounds. She was not going to be able to make it any easier for him.

However, Magarce was quickly reminded that Benjen’s cock was slightly bulbous in shape, not even counting the knot which had no chance of entering her at all. The searing tautness reached a crescendo that nearly caused her to scream in spite of herself- and then she could feel the bulkiest places sliding deeper into her, and the tightness clenched on a tapering part and felt the tiniest gradations of that tapering, and Benjen’s movement was easier- and finally, Benjen’s knot butted firmly up against Magarce’s mons, and deep within her, the head of his enormous cock just as firmly met her uttermost limits, shoving forcefully against her cervical wall.

Nerre were built for this- the female felines’ reproductive mechanics required it like Runge required a tie- but Magarce had never known that her body was built freakishly deep. Nerre lovers had never reached her depths, and she’d craved sex hungrily, never sated, not understanding why she kept wanting more and more. As Benseln’s cock thrust against her insides, stretching her and roughly prodding her secretest trigger- Magarce’s mind exploded.

Somehow she remained totally silent, but her paws stuck out rigidly, clawing frozenly at the air, and her petite body was racked by shocks like thunderbolts, jolts that would have woken Benseln had they not been so frozen into motionlessness. One loud, high-pitched squeak got through Magarce’s gritted teeth, and that was all. From that point on, the little Nerre simply hung on as colors and ecstacies flooded her reeling mind, and did not make a single sound, even as her sleeping Benjen drew her body to him and set up a dreamy tugging and shoving of his tightly trapped cock.

Presumably, in his dream, he was drawing his cock out of his lover and sliding it in. Magarce was so tightly stuffed with him, that in the physical world, he was tugging her entire body back a few inches, and then shoving her forward by her insides as his hips surged. He panted as he began to come in earnest and settled down, but by then, Magarce was utterly incoherent and barely conscious, her only remaining intelligence directed towards the task of not shrieking her joys loudly enough to peel paint off the bulkheads.

She succeeded. After nearly an hour of mind-mangling orgasm, Benjen softened and eventually withdrew from her, never having been alerted to what had happened- and Magarce, before succumbing to exhausted sleep, vowed that she would never, never tell him or hint at it, because she was going to let this happen again- and she knew that he would not willingly subject her to physical duress so unbelievably severe and harsh, however she might beg for it. She would keep it a secret forever, and would never leave him, or it.

Benseln Jens, at that time, had two and a half months to live. Had he known this, he might have acted differently.

…but he never did tell Magarce that he had not actually been asleep.