Chapter 1: Early to Rise

Schaffer was awoken by a familiar sensation, opening his eyes and blinking sleepily as he lay in a pile of slumbering aliens, the sky outside one of the outpost’s tiny portholes was still dark. It must be early morning, the Borealan sun had not yet risen, and the Polars that lay around him like a pride of idle lions were not yet awake. Their chests rose and fell softly, their breathing deep and regular as their paunchy, furry bodies cushioned and insulated him.

He had been living with the pack for months now, they had saved his life after he had been exiled to a remote listening station in the Borealan tundra by a corrupt Admiral, they had found his freezing body in the snow and had nursed him back to health. They had taken him in as one of their own, made him a part of their pack and their family, and now they lived together in the base with the UNN’s consent. Schaffer had been put in charge of maintaining the station’s eavesdropping equipment, intended to spy on the other alien nations of the planet, and in return he was allowed to live here along with his pack. It was warm, safe, and they were periodically resupplied with food and amenities. A far cry from the subsistence living the Polar pack had been accustomed to when they had come across him.

He was enveloped by their giant, feline bodies, downy white fur and insulating fat pressing on him from all sides. The Polars liked to sleep in a big pile, partly to conserve warmth in their harsh environment, and partly because of their tendency towards spontaneous and permissive sexual behavior. For that reason he slept in the nude, there were no other humans for thousands of miles and the aliens had no comparable concept of shame, wearing revealing and often purposeless garments that completely failed to preserve their modesty.

In some ways he had ‘gone native’, turned feral by human standards, choosing to live with his adopted family over the people who had betrayed him and had sought to kill him through exposure and starvation. The criminal organization that had stranded him here had been systematically deconstructed by UNN security services, and the figurehead had been put into a coma after resisting arrest, but even though the whole sorry affair had been resolved he still felt more at home with his pack. It was a simple life, fulfilling, he wanted for nothing and there were none of the day to day worries that had plagued him in his old job. His only human contact now was weekly status reports and the supply shuttle that came by once a month.

He looked around him in the gloom, trying not to disturb the sleeping aliens, someone’s fat thigh was cushioning his head and there was a heavy arm draped over his belly. They were in one of the dorms of the small base, originally it had been full of bunk beds and cots, but the aliens had been far too large and heavy to use them and so they had removed the mattresses and piled them on the floor. There were a few of these dorms, and the whole pack couldn’t fit in just one, so they tended to wander between the different groups depending on who they felt like sleeping with.

Schaffer realized that he was leaning on Osha, a near nine foot tall female who had taken a shining to him almost immediately upon his arrival, adopting him like a stray animal. Her pudgy thighs were as large as his torso, and made an admirable pillow. He couldn’t see the faces of those piled to his left and right, but he recognized the patchy, camouflaged fur markings of one of them and determined that must be one of the twins.

He turned his gaze downwards, seeing what had woken him, a pair of familiar blue eyes staring up at him expectantly as they reflected the low light. Shrimp was rubbing Schaffer’s thigh with her silky hand, so named for her unusually small stature for a Borealan, putting her on par with a taller human in terms of height. Meek and submissive, she had warmed to Schaffer due to their similar circumstances, the little alien tagged along with him everywhere he went like an adoring puppy. She seemed to see Schaffer’s initial refusal to sleep communally and participate in their occasional orgies as neglect, and had taken it upon herself to satisfy his needs, a behavior that had continued long after Schaffer had accepted the ways of their pack as his own.

She was shorter than her peers, one of the pack’s younger members, but although she was lithe and petite by Polar standards she was as developed as any human woman. She had heavy breasts and round thighs, with a pleasant plumpness to her figure that gave her some paunch on her belly, the harsh gravity of their native world endowing her with an underlying musculature that made her butt springy and shaped her feminine figure in ways that never failed to draw his gaze.

“Shrimp?” Schaffer whispered, keeping his voice low so as not to rouse the others. “What are you doing up so early?”

Schaffer didn’t speak their language and the aliens didn’t know English, but they understood each other well enough to communicate through a makeshift system of contextual gestures and basic phrases. The young alien parted Schaffer’s legs gently with her fluffy palms, then planted a soft kiss on his inner thigh, Schaffer realizing that his prominent morning wood had drawn the Borealan. Schaffer was still growing accustomed to the pack’s laissez-faire attitude when it came to sex, it was both a recreational act, and one of bonding. Shrimp had interpreted that her dear friend was in need of relief, and Schaffer could think of no good reason to deny her.

His erection bounced in the air, and Shrimp took that as an invitation to continue, rubbing her furry face against the underside of his member and lapping softly at the human’s balls with her obscenely long tongue. It parted her lips and snaked out of her mouth, almost a foot of pink, wet muscle that roved and coiled with a life of its own as its textured surface wrapped the base of his cock and cradled his testicles. Schaffer covered his mouth with his hand, stifling a groan so as not to disturb his sleeping neighbors, and reached down to sink his fingers into the Polar’s soft hair. He scratched her scalp, hearing Shrimp croon happily, delighted to please Schaffer as she painted the human’s loins with her viscous saliva.

She took Schaffer’s shaft in her hand, wrapping her large fingers around his pulsing member and letting her velvet fur tickle his skin, careful to avoid cutting him with her hooked claws. Her drool made her fur wet, the sensation slippery and pleasant as she began to stroke, Schaffer doing all that he could to keep still as the alien licked and teased below.