Our friend Wheresmysocks has commissioned another lovely piece of Pinwheel fanart, and I wanted to show my appreciation by writing a short story to go along with it. This artwork comes courtesy of UnknownAnimal, who has previously worked on some of our covers.
You make your way along the narrow corridor, passing by numbered doors, the blue carpet cushioning your footfalls. The white walls of the jump liner are lit by the harsh, pale glow of the light strips in the ceiling above, the background hum of the vessel’s realspace engines ever-present at the limits of your hearing.
It could take weeks or even months to cross interstellar distances, with the massive vessel having to drop out of superlight and coast while it recharged its drive after each jump. That meant a lot of waiting around, but at least there was an all-inclusive buffet in the galley, and even a shipboard casino to help pass the time.
After the first jump, you spent a little time exploring the recreation areas, but it’s time to turn in for the night. You stop by one of the doors, checking its number against your key card. As you flash it in front of the scanner and push against the panel, you realize that it’s already ajar. Wondering if you have the wrong room, you step inside, finding a modestly furnished suite.
It resembles a hotel room, little more than a bedroom with an en-suite bathroom, the far wall taken up by a large window that gives you a wonderful view of the colorful nebula beyond. As your eyes wander to what is supposed to be your bed, you see a shape lying beneath the sheets.
It’s a woman, her figure far larger than that of a human, a round ear nestled in a mop of sun-bleached hair twitching as she senses your approach. She rolls over to face you, only her head poking out above the sheets, turning a pair of amber eyes on you curiously.
It’s a Rask – her pink, feline nose twitching, her lips pulling back in a cruel smile that exposes her sharp incisors. At eight feet tall and five hundred pounds or more, the aliens are much larger than humans, and those differences are all the more apparent when seen up close like this. Your eyes are inexorably drawn to the way that the linen sheets settle over her figure, dipping into her narrow waist before rising with the curve of her wide hips to create an enticing hourglass.
What’s a Rask doing on the jump liner? Their backwater planet is considered savage at best, and their kind are best known as pirates and mercenaries who take what they want by force.
“What are you doing in my room?”
It’s all that you can muster, your heart quickening as those slitted pupils widen into large circles, like a cat sighting its prey.
Her species are notorious for their belligerence and their brutal pack lifestyle, their strength making them a force to be reckoned with. The sheets slide a little further down as she props herself up on her elbow, revealing the beginnings of her muscular shoulders, her skin a dusky shade of tan.
“Oh, hey,” she begins in a rolling, purring accent. She seems unperturbed by your accusation, as though she has every right to be where she is. “I was wondering when you were gonna show up. Figured this room must belong to someone.”
“How did you get in here?” you ask, your attention drawn to her furry tail as it flicks out from beneath the sheets to dangle over the edge of the bed.
“It was easy enough,” she replies, raising a large finger to show off a curving claw with a wicked point. It looks big and sharp enough to gut a boar like a salmon. Her blonde fur only seems to extend to her extremities from what you can see, as though she’s wearing fluffy elbow gloves. “Just had to slip a claw in the locking mechanism, and it swung right open. They should really overhaul their security systems – someone’s liable to intrude.”
You take a step closer, your uninvited guest snickering at your caution.
“S’alright,” she cooes, those reflective eyes tracking you like a hungry tiger behind the bars of its cage. “I don’t bite. At least…not very hard. My pack booked passage on this ship, but it seems that there was a little…misunderstanding.”
She raises herself a little higher, letting the sheets slide again, exposing the barest glimpse of her abundant cleavage.
“We rented a room expecting it to accommodate our whole pack, but when we arrived, we found one bed instead of five. Call it a flawed assumption. Seems you humans like to travel alone. We ran out of space next door, so I decided to appropriate your little suite.”
“That’s…not how we do things,” you protest, but she merely chuckles at you.
“Where I come from, the weak obey the strong, and one owns nothing that they cannot defend.”
She grips the sheet in her furry hand, slowly pulling it aside to expose herself as you stand there, your feet rooted to the floor. Inch by inch, more of her alien anatomy is revealed – more familiar than you would have imagined from the descriptions.
Her planet’s notoriously high gravity has given her a figure that would be the envy of any gym rat, wiry muscle clearly defined beneath her sun-kissed skin. It dimples her biceps and her thighs – so girthy that you could scarcely wrap your arms around them. As she shifts hips that are broader than your shoulders, the washboard abs that adorn her flat belly flex, becoming so defined that they cast shadows. She’s like a Greek sculpture brought to life, effortless power and grace oozing from her every pore. Just the confidence in her golden eyes is enough to make butterflies swarm in your belly.
Only now do you realize how hot it is in the suite. The alien must have messed with the thermostat to make it more comfortable for her – closer to the harsh desert heat of her homeworld. That silk-smooth, tanned skin is already glistening with sweat, the misty droplets reflecting the light to accentuate every contour of her inhumanly chiseled body. Is it your imagination, or are faint wisps of steam rising from her?
Breasts as large as your head spill across the mattress like cake batter filling a pan, wobbling as they settle, their mass sandwiching them tightly together. They’re big enough to be comical on a human, but on her massive frame, they seem far more appropriate. The way that her supple flesh spreads under its own weight makes them look even softer than the pillow she’s appropriated, yet they maintain a wonderful pertness despite their size, adapted to far higher gravity than that of the liner.
“Maybe we can make this situation work for the both of us,” she says, one of her furry hands sliding down her stomach. She traces the contours of her abs with a padded finger, her damp skin letting it glide past her navel. Her stout thighs part ever so subtly, revealing a pair of puffy, flushed lips.
“The way I see it, this room and everything in it belongs to me,” she continues. “You’re part of the package. Packs share,” she adds, a shining tongue that seems far too long emerging to wet her lips. She cups one of her boobs in a hand the breadth of a dinner plate, the quivering fat engulfing even her long fingers as she gives it an inviting squeeze, her pale fur contrasting beautifully with her dark complexion.
“Whaddya say, little guy? It’s gonna be a long voyage, and I could use a little entertainment now that I’m separated from my pack. Who knows – impress me, and maybe I’ll take you next door and introduce you to them. But, let’s see if you can handle one Rask before you try to take on five…”