Foxy Fur and a Fluffy Tale
Copyright© 2026 by Sonarflash2026
Chapter 2: A Royal Guest
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 2: A Royal Guest - In a universe where humans and Redalgar, an advanced and unique alien species, are on the brink of war, Captain Azrell is received by Welf, a Redalgar commander.. Despite their initial differences, Azrell is captivated by Welf's beauty and intelligence. As they navigate the complexities of their respective cultures, they form a telepathic bond, initiating a complex, passionate relationship.
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Military Zoophilia Science Fiction Aliens Extra Sensory Perception Furry Interracial Black Female White Male Bestiality Oral Sex Petting Royalty
Before the visitors arrived, our starship crew received a stern briefing. After the shuttle bay had repressurized, anticipating my first sight of a living Redalgar was an occasion.
Two Redalgars in battle armor stepped off the boarding ramp and took positions on either side. Though nothing of the aliens showed, one could see differences in their powered jump suits. Those alone were impressive. The ship’s communication piped. Crew officers saluted. A squad of Marines stood smartly to attention, the honor guard presenting arms. Clad only in an environmental suit, a small figure descended, saluted us, stepped to one side, turned, and offered another salute to the open hatch.
When a second, larger Redalgar appeared in glittering gold battle armor, more than a few crew members tensed, knuckles going white on weapon grips. Most knew. That particular type of armor was virtually impenetrable to any standard combat weapons and a few of the medium-heavy blasters.
A second pair of Redalgar warriors followed the imposing figure. Like the first two, they were large and impressive, completely concealed within opaque, powered armor.
The smaller, unarmoured figure stepped up beside their leader. Both guards formed up behind the glittering gold robotic suit, then approached captain Azrell. Only then could I see a face beyond the environmental suit visor, at once recognizing the features of the Redalgar envoy, Squadron Commander Whelf, then her suit comm chirped.
“Captain Commander Azrell, allow me to introduce Prince Athlon, First Admiral of the Redalgar primary fleet,” she stated in passible Galic. “Excellency, Fleet Captain Azrell, Federation Envoy, Commander of the Starship Bona Vista.”
Our captain bowed, and the golden giant bent slightly in response; then he was looming over me.
“Excellency, allow me to introduce my first officer, Lieutenant Commander Tabbet.” As before, the battle armor bent slightly in a bow. I responded with a bow, then saluted.
“Welcome aboard, Excellency,” I managed to respond without stammering or showing my normally brilliant smile.
Charmed Lieutenant Commander,” the suit’s communications unit stated in suave, digital Galic.
Before they moved on, Captain Azrell gestured to the smaller, unarmoured Redalgar. Somehow, I caught the slight impression of a grin, even though none of the envoy’s fangs were displayed.
“This is Lady Commander Whelf,” Captain Azrell stated. “The Redalgar Envoy, Squadron Commander, and Captain of the ship I visited.”
I struggled to maintain composure, even though before this arrival, I had received a private, encrypted communication from the Fleet Captain. Sufficient to say, more than a few details of their encounter were extremely detailed, bordering on pornographic. Despite best efforts, my eyes widened, my imagination picturing our commander humping this alien female.
Though still behind her helmet visor, Lady Commander Whelf arched one eyebrow, managing to give me an approximation of a very human, knowing look. I nearly wet myself, only then recalled to briefings about Redalgar telepathic ability. Lady Whelf twitched her whiskers and winked. As their party passed on, I was glad to not have been among the small coterie of females who had shared Captain Azrell’s bed. Our relationship was, if not close, at least professional.
Formalities continued. Escorted by his security detail of two, the Redalgar prince Admiral remained silent, an enigmatic giant looming over the assembly. When introductions were complete, the prince stepped back several paces. Flanked by his two guards, he slowly examined the assembled ranks. Once again, I could feel the tension of our crew.
Lady Whelf provided a distraction, stepping to one side. She faced us, then abruptly began shedding her environment suit. The helmet was first to come off. There were a few gasps and several indrawn breaths when her suit opened like a clamshell and she stepped out.
Utterly feminine, Whelf shook, smoothing out a garment of beautiful, frothy silver cloth, each of several exquisite drapes held in place by broaches of polished jet. Pleated folds shimmered, edges hinting of luminescent violet. Not expecting an exquisite outfit, I felt a moment of typically female envy. Only recently, and that through the Captain’s messages, had we learned that Redalgar normally wore clothing. Her garment was stunning.
“Very pretty, Commander Whelf,” the Prince Admiral’s communicator stated as he gave her a slight bow.
He straightened, then a strange, warbling hum came from his armor. This time, I tensed. What looked like a solid golden capillary developed wrinkles. Parts of the armor shrank, melting away, seams parting, opening faster than the eye could follow. As the armor folded open, a smaller, shorter environmental suit was revealed, a black muzzle and large eyes showing beyond the visor.
When the prince stepped clear, his attendant guards moved in, working seals, one taking his helmet, the other removing portions of the environment suit.
Finally shed of the outfit, their Prince Admiral emerged, letting out an audible sigh. He shook vigorously, black ruff standing out like the mane of a small lion. Like Commander Whelf, he was clothed. Most of his body was wrapped in a complex toga of shimmering gold cloth, wide bands clipped together with modest, rectangular-cut rubies. His enormous ears twitched. His long, curling tail lashed, then he uttered something crisp and snarly that sounded like a curse.
“I hate those damn things!” he growled in passible, standard English.
I felt certain more than a few eyebrows were raised among the crew.
The visitor shot a quelling glance at his attendants, then stepped over to our commander in one swift bound. Redalgar hindquarters were something like those of a Terran kangaroo, powerful and just as dangerous. Our captain bowed to him again. Almost as tall as the captain’s two meters, Prince Athlon returned the bow, extending a hand. They briefly touched palms, then straightened.
Outside of the battle armor, the Redalgar prince was still impressive. He flicked fingers. Lady Commander Whelf stepped forward. The prince dipped his muzzle to Lady Commander Whelf, their nostrils touching. Then, before I could think or react, he was standing before me, bending, his cool nose touching mine.
One centimeter shy of two meters, I am a tall woman, but he was taller and very imposing, seemingly not understanding the concept of personal space. Despite the backing of several large, armed Marines, I almost shied away. Bright, vertical black pupils in sapphire looked me up and down, and I swore they held a glint of amusement. Even more invasive, his nostrils crinkled, and he sniffed my throat. Head cocked to one side, large, pointed ears twitching, he reached out and touched my hair. Not completely retracted, his lethal claws combed through a mane I’d been growing three years in preparation for this mission. Almost all personnel were deliberately hairy, the men bearded and bushy, and some women burdened with luxurious manes of hair that was a bloody nuisance when showering or putting on environment suits. Mine was just as thick, raven black, and long enough to reach my buttocks.
That contact by the prince was more than inappropriate. The gesture was intimate and frightening. I shivered. Then he stepped back.
“Lieutenant Commander Tabbet,” he snarled in his oddly inflected Anglic. “You have lovely, abundant hair. Is the black natural?”
I heard one of the nearest Marines chuckle. Jaw clamped tight, I ground teeth and gave a short nod. “Yes, Excellency!” I bit out, my lips a hard line. I remembered to not show teeth—not even to grimace. His eyes fastened on mine.
A faint rustling seemed to pass through my head. As though carried off on a breeze, any hint of tension evaporated. My entire body relaxed. Unexpected heat pooled in my belly and lower. As quickly as I’d gotten angry, I felt soothed; my ruffled ego quieted with psychic expertise and finesse beyond that of the best human telepaths.
“You read me!” I thought, not a little shocked, yet this time unable to work up an indignant reaction.
I received a slight nod of acknowledgment. Obviously, he was not only calming me but invading my thoughts as much as my personal space. I tried slamming down mental shields, but that gesture was far too late. He had already been inside my head. Worse, his telepathic intrusion was beyond human norms. His touch had already affected me in ways I never could have anticipated. Instead of feeling horrified or violated, my reaction was one of deep, abiding pleasure.
Strangely, this alien prince was no longer an enemy. He wasn’t even Redalgar. He was simply a gorgeous male with a luxurious pelt of black fur, his long, curling tail a fascinating curiosity. Distractedly, I found myself imagining that tail curling around my naked back. Heat coursed through me and wetness pooled between my thighs. Any sense that he had invaded me or claimed me was powerfully offset by the realization that, if I wished, he could be entirely mine.
Hours later, after negotiations, there was a banquet and awkward socialization. The whole time, I was unavoidably aware of subtle looks being exchanged between our captain and Lady Whelf. Over and over, their fingers touched. Without a doubt, I knew they would spend the night together in his quarters and that it wouldn’t be a social visit.
After, I collapsed in my cabin. Mind in turmoil, I felt abandoned, ignored, even bereft. All through the diplomatic interactions, Prince Admiral Athlon seemed to be ignoring me. His swift mental touch had left me hopelessly enamoured. Only once did our eyes meet. Only once did his muzzle dip in acknowledgement. Though accomplishing all my shipboard duties, I was otherwise barely able to keep functioning. Attempts at conversation felt stilted and awkward. I ate, drank wine, and sank into an insular void.
Disturbed and definitely unhappy, I sprawled on my bed in a sulk. My door chimed. Before I could rise, before I could even think about keying open the lock, it slid back. Athlon stepped in, flicked his tail aside, and punched key codes on the inside panel. My door shut and locked. Shocked, fully realizing that our ship security must have been compromised, I was distracted by a completely different factor. My entire body suddenly felt hot, uncomfortable, and coursing with desire for the Redalgar Prince.
“What have you done to me?” I barely squeaked as he bounded across the room, stopping beside my bed. “What ... are you going to do?”
He cocked his head, nose crinkling. “To other humans and their ships, nothing harmful, I assure you, Lady.” He stated with that same snarling Anglic, along with a telepathic communion that communicated absolute honesty. “However, for you, Lieutenant Commander Tabbet, I feel compelled to present you with an opportunity beyond your wildest imaginings.”
I blinked, squirming on the bed, feeling much too vulnerable and even more certain that he had seriously messed up my brain. I didn’t exactly feel threatened, but neither did I feel entirely comfortable with this invasion of previously secure, private quarters.
“What opportunity?” I breathed uncertainly.
“A bonding,” he stated without equivocation. “Our minds resonate. I wish to mate with you.”
“Me?” I squeaked, blinking, not quite sure I’d heard right. Unfortunately, having read the captain’s report, I knew exactly what he meant. Instantly, I recalled the brief sent by Captain Azrell over an encrypted channel. I’d also been privy to his personal log. Events on the Redalgar advance ship had been steamy. As though it mattered, I noticed that he was still wrapped in gold cloth, and I hadn’t stripped off my uniform.
I glanced down, suddenly nervous, wondering. His torso and hips were covered, so there was no way of telling what kind of package he sported. I already knew that an invitation to mate with Commander Whelf had been an unexpected twist. At complete odds with human behavior and Federation protocols, their bonding ritual was direct, simple, intimate, and physically satisfying. Captain Azrell told how a Redalgar male presented their penis as an invitation to coupling and bonding. I nearly choked, knowing that having sex with this prince could become a very important olive branch.
I sucked a deep breath and glanced down again.
“But ... you are wearing ... clothing,” I said in a raspy whisper.
He touched Ruby clips, letting them bounce on deck carpeting. Bands of gold cloth slithered and dropped, pooling on the deck.
“Is that better?” he asked quietly.
I glanced down. Below a patch of dark reddish black on his belly, there was a sheath covered with creamy amber fur, the appendage not unlike that on a terran dog. He also displayed a very large, dangling scrotum of the same creamy amber, making it stand out against surrounding black fur. At least ten centimeters of slender, ruby-red penis emerged from the sheath. Pointed, glistening wet, it was almost the length of my hand. I sucked a startled breath, fully understanding the symbolism.
“You ... really want me that way?” I barely squeaked in a strangled whisper. “To mate? Me? But why?”
“Out of respect, to establish another sacred bond between our races,” he stated with quiet seriousness. And, if you wish, to welcome you as an envoy. Also, because you are of an exalted standing, with an unusual, beautiful mane of black fur, along with your black skin. One is surprised you do not have a higher rank.”
“Higher? Just because I have black hair and black skin?” I asked, taken aback by his suggestion.
“Among Redalgar, black is a sign of the highest order. Your Captain Azrell also has black fur, or hair. Is the difference? Is it merely semantics that we have fur and you have hair?”
I swallowed, considering, not certain I wanted to give the answer that surfaced. As quickly as I knew that he could pluck all manner of prejudicial associations out of my thoughts. I hadn’t been through all of the captain’s rigorous conditioning.
“Humans ... like to feel superior,” I replied carefully. “We call the hair of lower animals fur, but really, there is no difference. Calling your hair fur would be demeaning. Calling my hair fur would be equally lowering, even if they are the same thing biologically. Semantics, and ego. The kind of things that are often at the root of wars.”
He chuckled. “Interesting. You show much less conditioning than Captain Azrell. That is ... refreshing. I sensed your emotions. They are ... more raw, and very female. Not unlike, or should I say, very similar to patterns of a haughty Redalgar princess.