---Oggaar’s Perspective---
I walk along the boulevard, back from Arslan’s nursery.
Living on a Terran planet is always a bit of a nasal assault... I can smell the spicey food someone is cooking a street away, I can smell the dirty laundry in that woman across the way’s basket (that she’s presumably taking to the nanolaundrette, nearby), I can smell the fact that one of these two men, walking towards me, is attracted to the other and that the other does not reciprocate… *sniff*… yet…
The fact that Human Terrans can smell anything at all, in this cacophony, makes me think they have better olfaction than they believe.
I, contemplatively, run my tongue along each of my radicivorous canines in turn… my ‘beast teeth’ as Börte calls them(!)
Really! Beast teeth? As if my species were the one that originally thrived by chasing down animals at a saunter, until those animals exhausted themselves to death, then hacking them up with stone knives! No, I have long, thick pointed canines, for crunching through roots, and that makes me the beast(!)
I chuckle to myself at the silliness of my Warrior Queen…
[Fuck] I love that woman!...
I remember again the incredible coincidence of having seen the Captain Tcakqaal (the first captain ever to have an ODR approved SO) perched on the shoulder of the Victor Taylor (the first ever ODR approved SO) the other night!
They were just… walking down the street on a fine Zanzibari evening… at the head of a motley crew of Humans, roughworlders, gardenworlders and what looked like a mirkbeast!
I wonder what they were doing here…
Should I have said something? Let them know how our stories interweave? How much I owe them? How grateful I am?
How would I do that in a way that wouldn’t sound… resentful?
‘The scheme you two piloted made my wife decide to change careers, rather than undertaking a 4 year course to be qualified to do the job she was already doing… It’s OK, though!… Knowing that I would lose her otherwise gave me the courage to confess how I felt to her and now we have a life and child together on this planet… that is… after the years of hellish therapy I had to undergo so that I could stand up in this gravity without crushing my own vertebrae… therapy that would make me a super soldier outside of Terran Space but, in Terran Space, makes me a man who’s hardy enough that a common cold won’t kill him and he can do a respectable job of making love to his wife… thank you very much!’
Perhaps a bit too strong(!) A simple smile and nod were serviceable…
I come to the door to my home and wave for it to open which, recognising me, it does.
“Baby… that you?” my wife’s voice comes down the stairs, shortly followed by her.
“No… it’s some other Onigran… juuuuust passing through(!)” I quip.
“Haha(!) Very funny(!)... Though, compared to the jokes you used to tell before we got married, that actually was pretty good! Living among Terrans is definitely sharpening your wit(!)” she mocks.
She pads across the tiles with grace that shouldn’t be possible for a being of her mass and density. She cranes her neck upwards to look into my face from the level of my hips.
“What are you doing home? Did something happen?” I ask.
“Yeah, my boss called and said that the bodyguard I’ve been tutoring left the ODR facility with her charge and moved to the ship they’re going to be leaving on… he doesn’t need me for anything in particular and knows how busy he’s been keeping me (giving a crash course on gardenworlder relations and psychology to a Neanderthal… so intelligent but so socially artless!), so he gave me the day off!” she smiles.
“Oh, that’s great! Do you want to go anywhere? Do anything?”
She bites her lip and beckons me to the level of her head. I squat and my face traverses the [1.6m] of vertical distance that separates it from hers. The tip of my nose brushes against the tip of her, comparatively tiny one. She places that burning left hand of hers on my right cheek, where there is space for her entire palm and all five fingers to make contact. Those sensuous lips of hers move to my left ear and she whispers “Where I would like to go… is our bedroom… and… what I would like to do…” a sultry giggle “…is have our ten thousandth attempt at giving Arslan a little brother or sister that can come out of me rather than a tube… you know… as we have the house to ourselves!”
I sigh and smile “The problem, with you persistence hunters, is that you never know when to give up! Didn’t one of your species' old wise ones say something about ‘the definition of insanity…’?”
She smirks and pushes me against the door. My therapy might have given me the constitution of a high-end roughworlder but… when a high-end deathworlder wants you pushed, you get pushed!
I’m knocked on my arse and she comes between my legs, pinioning my torso between her and the door. With that dense skull of hers backing them up, her lips attack mine with fierce intensity. She knows how not to hurt me… but she also knows how to make absolutely sure that I know she could hurt me, if she wanted to... It’s quite thrilling to be manhandled by my Warrior Queen!
She threads her hefty right arm around the back of my neck and her left under my armpit and pulls me into a crushing embrace.
After some [30 seconds] of this ferocious squeeze, our lips part and she says “We don’t know when to give up… and that’s why you love us, my Ogre!”
“That’s why I love you, my Khatan... One of many reasons…!” I correct, slightly breathless.
She puffs, mirthfully, and I feel the warm air, of her exhale, pass pleasingly over my lower face.
“So, are you going to come upstairs and engage in the ‘definition of insanity’ with me, lover?”
I look into those orange-brown eyes and nod.
---Börte’s Perspective---
I take the hand of the dorky, Onigran researcher, turned homemaker, that is my husband.
I bound up the stairs, three at a time. Even with his 2m long legs, he struggles to keep up!
Tengri’s Sky, he’s adorable!
Should it still be this exciting?
I’m about to have sex with my husband of years and it still feels as exhilarating as it did when he secluded me, after I announced my intention to change career, and confessed his feelings! I don’t have to be as gentle with him now as I did then, of course, but that’s not all there is to it, right?
I hated watching his agony (as his pigment production was boosted, his bones and muscles where densened, his immune system supercharged, his metabolism sped up, his heat shedding mechanisms were amplified, his neurons optimised to his new physiology, his cardiac shock response toned all the way down) but… it’s been years since all that now! Years of being able to enjoy him fully! An entire era of not having to worry that some tiny miscalculation in the dosage of something might take him from me! We have a life… a child! Why is it still so exciting to push around this monstrous looking gentle giant?!
I throw open the 4m tall (old fashioned) hinged double doors to our bedroom and pull him inside, shutting and locking them behind him. I engage the privacy field… by the grace of Tengri, there will be screaming soon and I don’t want to disturb the neighbours(!)
“Take off your top and stand by the bed!” I order.
He complies, opening his vest to reveal that hairy, red chest of his. He’s still so fucking cute! He has no visible muscle definition at all!
I can see him begin to pitch that circus tent in his lowers… I think I’ll help that process along(!)
I take off my rose-gold diadem (a proper crown, for such a Khatan as myself!) and place it on its stand before untying my belt and allowing my robe to hang open, exposing a sliver of my bare stomach, cleavage and clavicle.
Grasping the open sides, with my left hand, against my stomach I pull it down, with my right, to reveal my pale shoulders, separated by clearly defined tan-lines (caused by always wearing identical sleeveless robes) from the darker skin of my arms and neck.
I see the hunger in his eyes, hidden behind a poorly maintained façade of pliant obedience. I drop my robe revealing my voluminous breasts, straining at their remaining confinement. I look at his… ‘big top’… it’s coming along nicely!
My muscular arms reach behind me and unhook the clasp of my strapless bra, which is flung out and down by the release of tension, dropping to the floor… it’s almost time for the performance in the circus tent!
I step closer and reach up to, slightly, above the height of my head, hooking my fingers over his fabric belt and into the waist of his trousers and the waistline of his pants beneath.
I turn my head straight up to look into those enormous, red pools, he calls eyes.
I smirk, then yank down, unveiling probably one of the largest cocks of any sapient in the galaxy… at least by volume(!)
His textured, ridged manhood is precisely 627mm long and 231mm wide (at the point of greatest girth) and is bottomed by a sack, containing a single testicle of 214mm diameter… I know all that, to the millimetre, because, during his therapy, sexual mechanics were one of the things that needed to be very carefully considered. The decision he, I and the doctors (when we conveyed that it already worked for us) jointly arrived at was to leave it untreated. If his cock were the same relative density as the rest of him now is, it would never fit inside me! As it is, he can be compacted to a density that fills me up very pleasantly!
My dorky Ogre, with a Bad Dragon in his pants!...
That cock and ball (still the light pink that all of him used to be) are the last parts of him that are pure, unadulterated gardenworlder… well… almost!... One little present I received, the first time we made love after his therapy had concluded, was my first ever creampie from him! His body didn’t have enough fortitude to generate the pressure required to overcome compaction previously, so he was only able to release after pulling out. If my faith in Tengri and Eje ever falters, my faith in the doctors who gave me that experience will stay true(!)
It can’t be very common for a woman to be able to fellate her lover while we’re both standing straight up!
…I say ‘fellate’… we have previously tried compacting him into my mouth the way we do into my pussy and arse but… it was very unpleasant… for both of us!
I had about 40cm of cock down my throat, blocking my windpipe, he got his delicate skin scraped as it passed, unavoidably, over the ridges of my teeth! We resolved to not attempt oral insertion again… instead, I lick and kiss around his glans and stroke his shaft, gently, with my palms.
His breathing quickens and he moans “Khatan…!”
I used to hate being named after the first wife of some conquering, warlord folk-king from more than a millennium ago in my people’s history and the graduate epithet ‘Queen’ that it earned me but… when Oggaar calls me ‘Khatan’… *mwah*… this Queen likes it very much, when her consort Ogre shows his proper respects!
I reach out to fondle that volleyball sized testicle of his… I have to be extremely gentle with it or it will rupture… we’ve had near misses, previously!
His knees buckle and he begins toppling forward, my hands shoot up and push him back over the other way, to land on the bed… that immense cock sticking straight up!
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
It was slightly straining to catch and redirect him like that… it didn’t used to be! He used to be much less dense than he is now. Back then, it was like pushing around a 356cm block of polystyrene! I’m glad he has a little more heft to him, now!
I grasp the hems of his trouserlegs and yank them off, over his giant feet, leaving my little Ogre entirely denuded before his Khatan who, in short order, slides her own trousers off, over her broad hips, leaving herself almost as exposed(!)
I reach under the bed producing, from there, a large container of lube.
He chuckles nervously. What, by Tengri Heavenly Father and Eje Earthly Mother, are you nervous about, dummy!? I’m the one who has to fit that mammoth inside her! How can you be nervous after all the times we’ve done this!?
I climb onto the bed, between his legs, and take position before that totem pole of a member.
Experimentally, I press my finger against his opening, it comes away with a string of precum attached to it. I grasp his manhood with my left hand, fixing my face on his, I dip my right little finger two joints deep into his duct. He gasps. I wiggle my finger. He squeaks. I withdraw my soaking finger… it seems he’s ready.
I scoop a generous quantity of lube from the container and seal it before tossing it from the bed. I slick my hands with it and grasp at the top and bottom before sliding my hands along his length, being quite careful not to leave even a centimetre uncovered!
That done, I ask “Ogre… could you just remind me… whose is this giant cock?”
He smiles “Why, yours of course… my Khatan…”
I give a crooked smile back “…and, if your Khatan were to say that she wanted her horsecock to penetrate her phat arse?”
He closes his eyes, smiling “…if that were the Khatan’s wish, her consort Ogre would need to oblige her...”
“It is my wish, my consort… though… you couldn’t possibly get me pregnant that way so… you’ll need to tell me, when you’re halfway there, so we can switch to the other hole I wish you to satisfy!”
He gives an exaggerated flourish of his left hand “So my Warrior Queen wishes, so shall it be done.”
“Good boy!” I say, swatting appreciatively at the side of his immense arsecheek.
I stand and turn my back to him, placing my left foot on the outside of his left thigh and my right outside his right.
“Close your legs, Ogre.”
He does so, making it much less awkward to straddle him.
I reach behind me and pull my silk panties to one side, exposing my arsehole, and then reach beneath me to find the head of his girthy, lengthy, but oh so squashable, lubed manhood.
I guide it to my hole and begin the fiddly, time consuming process of working all that meat into an opening not adapted to accept it!
When it’s in… it will be very worth it!
---Oggaar’s Perspective---
Could I not feel everything that was happening, I would proclaim it a supernatural violation of object constancy!
My wife’s gorgeous, fulsome arsecheeks bounce up and down on my pelvis, eating up and spitting out every [centimetre] of my penis in a way that, visually, seems as if my organ is being erased from existence, with each precise fall, and recreated, with each precise rise!
I can see that the hole it’s disappearing into is far too small for it!
I can see where the head would be (at the back of her neck when she’s down, below her shoulderblades when she’s up) and that it’s not there!
It’s only the fact, that I can feel her dense insides crushing my length and girth to be shorter and thinner than I would be flaccid, that reassures me that this is no defiance of reality… just a deathworlder being a deathworlder… though it can often be difficult to tell the difference!
Her moans are different to the ones she gives when I’m in her… other opening: When she’s using me to ‘satisfy’ her anus she gives long moans of ‘Mmmmmmmm, Hhhhmmmmmmmm, MmmmmmmmmmmmMMMmmmmmm!’ when I’m in her vagina, they’re shorter, more fervent ‘Ah! Ah! Ah! Oh! Oooh! AH! Shit! Aaah! AAAAAAH!!!’
She has explained the difference as ‘Fucking my arsehole is satisfying, like a warm meal. Fucking my pussy is intense, like a drug!’
I’m still not entirely convinced that there’s any satisfaction to be had in me being in her anus. The only reason I think she’s being truthful is that I’ve yet to figure out any reason she might lie about that(!)
She reaches behind her and pulls her long, dark mane of hair over her shoulder… she realised that I couldn’t see that muscular deathworld back of hers… she accommodated my love for that back of hers!
It’s luscious… only slightly marred by the fact that I now can’t see her hair so well… I definitely prefer her muscles, though!
Anyone unfamiliar with Terrans would look at us and assume that I were the more physically threatening of the two!
Afterall; I have long, thick, sharp canines, I have claws, I have horns, I have nearly twice her height and over 5 times her bulk (though I only mass a little more than her, for it).
Terran children, who have not yet come to understand their species unique dreadfulness, often run, cry and scream from me… perceiving me as a monster. Just last year, I had a broken toe from a classmate of Arslan’s who decided to ‘fight off the monster’… the fact that my toe could be broken by an infant, reaffirms the fact that my wife is going easy on me!
In truth, that density and solidity, that speed and power, that stamina and endurance, that devious deathworld mind… they all mean that… if one of us in this room is a ‘beast’ well… it isn’t the ‘Ogre’!
I reach out with my right hand and bring my claws to her shoulder.
I press my palm into her back and then do the same with my other.
My palms, together, cover significantly more than half of her broad, muscled back! My tiny Warrior Queen.
She has, previously, explained that, in her species’ terminology, my preferences would be called a ‘shortstack fetish’ and a ‘muscle girl fetish’… A partiality for female partners who are significantly shorter and more muscular, than you or than average.
She assures me that, by the standards of Terran females, [185cm] is above average!... It’s difficult for me to tell from so much higher up. Though, I don’t need her to tell me that she’s incredibly muscular. It’s fairly obvious.
[Shit]! I was supposed to warn her when I was halfway, wasn’t I!?
That’s a while ago now!
“My Khatan…” she ceases the, pistonlike, up and down motion of her hips “…I must confess; the time at which I was halfway done, has come and gone! I have failed to warn you!”
Her body stiffens before she swivels to face me, her insides twisting my phallus uncomfortably in their vicelike grip.
“What do you think an appropriate forfeiture… for a consort who has failed his Khatan, in such a way, would be?” she says, scowling.
I think for a moment, before a flash of brilliance crosses my mind.
“Why… my Khatan… I think the only appropriate punishment, for such failure, would be the consort’s denial of release(!) The seed of such a worthless man could surely not be allowed to stain the womb of a Khatan and a daughter of Tengri and Eje(!)”
Her scowl intensifies… she obviously sees exactly what I’m doing but… if she wants her ‘creampie’…
She stands… her anus releasing the vast majority of my length.
With a contemptuous flick, she pushes the last few [centimetres] of me out of her.
She reaches for her holopad “Set two timers… one for five minutes from now… one for five minutes and thirty seconds.”
Still scowling she gestures at the, Onigran height, desk, in the corner of the room, with a ladder leading up to the top.
“I am going to be waiting for you to satisfy me, on that desk. You are going to get yourself inside me between the first and second alarms, between now and the first alarm you are going to wash and relube yourself, once you are inside me, you are going to do all the work necessary to bring both of us to climax, if any of these conditions are not met… more stringent penalties will follow… is that understood?” she pouts.
“Perfectly, my Khatan.” I smile.
She makes her way to the desk, on the way, dropping her panties, which hit the floor with a wet *fwap*!
She didn’t say so but suggesting a, very reasonable sounding, punishment for me that would also be a punishment for her was the perfect way to avoid any real punishment, at all…
I had best hurry though!
I rush to the bathroom and set the shower to restore me to my natural state of cleanliness. That takes [2.5 minutes]. I run back out and locate the container of lubricant she discarded earlier.
I scoop out probably too much of it and hastily apply it to myself… I’m not entirely hard but… glancing at my Khatan, presenting herself on my desk, fixes that!
I hurry to her and bring the head of my lubricated shaft between her legs.
I dutifully wait for the first alarm, her instructions having been quite clear.
Her patience only lasts a few moments before she irritably instructs “Just put it in, already!”
That is an instruction she doesn’t need to give twice!
“Yes, my Khatan.”
I bring my hands to my glans and, with constrictive power I never had before my therapy, squash my flesh tight enough that I may enter her.
She sighs with satisfaction as I work myself in.
The first timer sounds and she shouts “Stop!... Deactivate all alarms!”
There is only a moment’s hesitation as I believe her to be instructing me to cease insertion… she notices but says nothing.
I smell the intoxicating aroma of my wife’s bouquet of arousal. I look at the comely bare chest and stuffed groin of my benevolent Queen… waiting for her unworthy consort to service her… my enormous heart swells with love.
She is my world… my everything!
When we left the service of the Pathfinder and the ODR offered her a position on this planet… making it necessary for me to receive 2 years of excruciating gene therapy… she begged me to say she should just turn down the job… that we should keep searching for a planet where we could both live with minimal adjustments to physiology.
It was one of the very few things I’ve stood firm on, in our relationship… I don’t regret it for a second!
When I came out of therapy she told me she didn’t expect me to find a job and that I could be her ‘kept man’. She has provided me years of domestic bliss! She has given me a son… well, she and the same clinic I got my gene therapy at(!) She’s never even asked me to do household chores… though that might have something to do with the fact that, as I do them without being asked, she has never needed to(!)
The only thing she requires of me is that I service her with my ‘horsecock’… a service I’m only too happy to indulge her of!
I place my right hand on her left hip and my left on her right shoulder.
“Are you ready, my Khatan?”
“Do your duty, consort!”
“As you command…”
I use my weight to pull backwards, out of her. My member is highly constricted by her dense, soaking insides but, as I pull away, I notice, for the umpteenth time, the way her, utterly immovable, pubic bone maximally constricts my penis, the sensation pleasantly traveling up my length as I withdraw.
Using my weight again, I reverse course, ramming home.
Her eyes roll back and she gives an amatory yelp.
Her consort does his duty.
---Börte’s Perspective---
Ah! Ah! Oh! Mmm! Ooo! Fuck! Shit! Tengri! Oh! Ah! Hmm! Fucking Eje!
His enormous cock is filling up my soaking cunt, ballooning out as it passes my pelvis!
The first time I saw that cock was by accident and I was far more embarrassed than I should have been, thinking he was fully hard. It wasn’t until our first time that I learned how wrong I was!
My hands fumble at his titanic forearms as my tits sway up and down from the motion.
If I didn’t have the flexibility of a martial artist, I would never be able to spread my legs wide enough to allow those broad hips between them!
Shit, it really backfired, punishing him with a cooling off period! Now, I might cum before him! What kind of Queen would I be if I had such a loss of composure!
Come on Börte! Think of something offputting… you just need to outlast him! When he fills you up, you’ll cum, don’t worry! Something gross, something boring, something calming, something… it’s impossible! Not with my man’s horned head looming nearly a full Human’s height above me, despite me already being 2m up! Not with his claws, ever so lightly, digging into my arsecheek and shoulder! Not with that red chest covered in maroon-purple hair swaying back and forth, just out of reach! Not with that volleyball slapping into my taint with every thrust! Not with that gargantuan cock stuffed into my pussy! It’s impossible for me to imagine something unsexy, right now!
Hold on! Hold ON! HOLD ON! WwwiiiillllllpppppppoooooooowwwwwwwwweeeeeeeEEER!!!!!
He gasps and I can feel his sweetcream coming down its delivery duct, fighting the density with which he is stuffed into me, ready to be delivered to where it needs to be.
His seed blasts my insides in a thick jet! Any attempt I was still making at resisting my orgasm is entirely annihilated! My belly swells with the pressurised liquid as that, which the seal between us isn’t strong enough to contain, spurts out to splatter back against his hips.
I shriek with pleasure… so long that my lungs run out of air! There’s no drug, I’ve tried, that can match the intensity of an orgasm from Oggaar… nor do I think it likely that there are any, I haven’t tried, that could... at least, without killing me!
We are both very out of breath, for some time, before my consort Ogre asks “May I…*huff*… be permitted… *puff*… to withdraw… *huff*… and begin cleanup,… *guff*… my Khatan?”
I pat his forearm “Not… just yet,… Ogre... Just… soak for… a minute!”
He nods and remains plugging his enormous release inside me with that monster cock. Every bit of him is monstrous and I love it! That gap between his fearsome appearance and his mild-mannered, submissive personality!
I look at my faux pregnancy bump, caused by his jism… I’m going to give it a week… do a pregnancy test… and… when it’s negative, I’ll call the clinic and ask them to make me another child… A daughter, this time, I think. I’ll clear it with Oggaar, obviously but I know he won’t say no!
Fuck it feels good to be filled up like this!
---some minutes later---
I watch from the silk sheets of our bed as my good little househusband clears up the mess we made on his desk.
When he has satisfied himself that no traces of our amorous activities remain on or under the desk he strolls over to our nanoforge (which is a bit of an indulgence to have but so worth it!) and tosses in the towels, instructing a cleaning on them.
It’s slightly romantic to think that, the next time I print a comb, or something, it will be made with our, molecularly disassembled, mixed love juices! I know that atoms are atoms and there’s no way to distinguish an atom that was in Oggaar’s cream from one that wasn’t… I know that I should find it slightly gross to think of combing my hair with a sexjuice comb… but I don’t!
My big old doofy monster mounts the bed and lays his face next to mine. I bend my legs slightly to place the soles of my feet on the crests of his hips. I thread my arm into the gap between his neck and the pillow and the other around his shoulders and pull him into a deep kiss.
Our tongues wrestle… more accurately his tongue is beaten into submission by mine!
I open my eyes, hoping to see those red eyes with their horizon-scanning, wide, prey pupils… but, of course, his eyes are closed!
When I’m satisfied that he truly knows who his Khatan is, I pull away.
Through unsteady breaths, he says “My Khatan, I don’t have to pick up Arslan until this afternoon… in the meantime… how about I make us some pancakes?”
I think for a moment “Sure… no root veg with mine though… you know how I like them!”
He laughs “Buried in sweetcream, Khatan?”
“You know it!… And… I think I’ll come with you, today… to pick up Arslan…”
He smiles.
---Arslan’s Perspective---
I hate Stacey! She pulled my hair and told me I was too big for Nursery and should go to big kid class, today!
Mr. Aristotle said he ‘count cool ated a 7 tea 3 per sent like lee hood that these are Miss Directed-Emotions’ I said I didn’t know what that means he said ‘she probably likes you and doesn’t know what to do about it…’ (why couldn’t he have said it like that first?!)
I don’t like her, though, and, when I grow up, I’ll be big like Daddy and strong like Mummy.
*Sniff* do I smell them? Both of them? Isn’t Mummy working at the Oh Dee Aah, today?
I see them! YAAY! THEY’VE BOTH COME TO PICK ME UP!!!
*Sniff* Parsnip, carrot, turnip, syrup, sweetcream… and… aaaaaww! No fair! They’ve had pancakes!