The Journal Entries

No amount of artificial background or filtration will ever make the sun appear as if it were coming through a hundred kilometers of atmosphere. Here the light of the sun creates harsh glares and direct angles. All the architectural considerations in the world that go into reducing that painful clarity achieve only partial results. The stippled surfaces can never completely erase the effect of a single, stark, straightedge shadow crawling across the floor. The sky outside my office is a black even more unfamiliar to Pendorians than to planetbound peoples. On the Ring, even the darkest night contains light shining through from neighboring sectors often bright enough to let one read. On the ring, color is everywhere. Here, the world is black and white. The black of space, and stark white, as the walls in medical research areas are supposed to be, revealing any stain.

Tylia, now, knows exactly what to do with a moment of color. Self-presentation is one of the stronger points of her youthful experimentation. When she dresses to emulate me, which I've started to notice her doing often, she makes just enough change to let me know that she wears for comfort just as much as sincere flattery. For the few formal occasions we've gone to, she wore half-Felinzi, half-kimono, all silk and warm colors. She has dressed as if she were my best friend, a tomboy, a student, a nerd, and just plain aloof.

At eight hours past nightfall and just passing midnight I didn't expect anyone to be awake. The only people alive right now live in quarter-sectors seven hours off in either direction, and we had few of those living on Alpha, locked as it was by tradition to Pendorian Standard Time. So I received a surprise when Hal interrupted my note taking by saying, "Ken, Tylia would like to know if you're busy right now."

I looked up from my padd. "Not right now. Why?"

"She would like to know if you would join her in the arboretum number 3."

I glanced over at the door, an odd habit, then sighed. "Shut this down and save it, would you?"

"Are you joining Tylia?"

I thought that a rather odd way to word the question, but I understood what he meant was not what I thought. "Yeah. May as well see what she's up to." I left my lab coat over the back of my chair, leaving me in just a pair of sweatpants, a tunic, and a pair of socks with rubberized soles. The office was comfortable enough for that.

As I walked into the arboretum, I realized that Aaden was right. And that I was wrong.

She was standing five, maybe six meters away, her back to one of the many windows that allowed carefully metered light to nourish the plants kept here. Arboretum Three is where we keep the really alien vegetation. Right now, Tylia was leaning against the corner of a windowsill that housed one of the more ferocious varieties, Kampian Carpet ivy. She wore nothing but a pair of grip socks on her crossed feet, bright yellow socks that contrasted strong against her black fur, and an accompanying yellow scarf. Her arms were crossed in front of her, hiding nothing because she had nothing but the barest hint of womanhood to hide. Her slim, boyish body seemed to vibrate before my eyes, the yellow and black seemingly struggling to contain her youthful energies.

"Hi," she said, her voice a mystery even Pandora couldn't resist.

"Hi," I replied, smiling and trying to maintain my composure. A quick review of my own state of mind revealed no erection, but a definite tightening of chest. "I, um, was wondering what you were doing up at this hour."

"Just walking in the garden," she said with a shrug.

"Naked? In Number Three?"

"Sure," she said with a shrug. "Why not? It feels... natural." She pushed off the windowsill ledge against which she leaned, righting herself. With slow deliberation, easy to pull off in one-fifth gravity, she uncrossed her legs and began walking toward me. "Doesn't it feel natural to you?"

"Tylia..." I murmured, my mouth going a little dry. She had me this time. My doubts were in trouble.

"You're not going to lecture me on patience again, are you?" she asked, placing her hands on my chest.

It suddenly occurred to me that, little as she was, if she stood on my bed we might be seeing eye-to-eye. "No," I said. "Not this time." I offered a hand and she took it. My blood was loud in my ears as she drew close and wrapped her arms around my waist. I held her to me, sliding my hands down her back until I had reached her butt... and then I pressed my palms to her ass, touching her, feeling her taught body underneath that fur.

That body went rigid, a whimper caught in her throat. "Yes," she said, her voice cracking, as if my just touching her fulfilled the needs she had so eloquently expressed over the past months. I stood up straight and looked down into her face. Behind those slitted eyes I could see her thoughts, and I saw one word. She said it aloud. "More?"

"More," I agreed. "But not here."

She nodded, suddenly the little girl again, anticipating candy. I took her hand and led her into the hallway. She bounced-- and it wasn't just the reduced gravity. She was looking forward-- and why not? She had been looking forward to this since we had first met.

Through the door to my cabin on Alpha, she stopped and turned. "Only if you want to."

"Oh, Tylia, honey-- I do want to. I've wanted to since the shuttle trip. But wanting-- and doing-- are different. It's okay if I want anything, but I had to decide if it was okay for me to do it. You had to convince me."

"I almost begged you," she said, stepping closer.

"I know. Sometimes you made me want to spank you."

"I would have wanted that too." She interpreted the look of puzzlement on my face correctly because she continued, "Don't you get it, Ken?" Her hands touched my chest as she reached out to try and explain by osmosis. It might have worked for P'nyssa, but Tylia's talent wasn't telepathy. I did see it, actually, and still it bothered me. I waited until she spelled it out for me. "I... want... to be touched. Inside and out. You know... You know how I feel." She giggled. "You even said that spanking was an intimate kind of touch in one of your stories."

I reached down and scooped her into my arms. Her ass once again rested against my hands, and now I felt my heartbeat sinking to my groin. My cock pressed against the fabric of my pants, making me painfully aware of just how sexual Tylia was-- and had always been.

I slowly placed her on my bed, where she uncoiled like the kitten she appeared to be, moaning a soft "Mmmm" as she did so. I reached for the drawstring of my pants when she suddenly sat up and said, "Wait."

Crawling to the edge of the bed, she beckoned me closer to her. She reached for the drawstring, pulled it out slowly. My pants fell about my ankles in the slow-motion of lowered gravity and I stepped out of them. My cock had dropped a little-- it usually responds only to direct stimuli-- but it was still full and warm. "Wow," she whispered as she approached it and took it into her muzzle. I felt the warmth as a shock.

"Tylia," I gasped.

"Hmm?" she asked without taking my cock out of her mouth.

"Never mind..." I said. She was not expert at it, but she had a grasp on the basics. Her hand caressed my shaft as she licked and stroked at it, trying to coax me into ever higher excitement. I didn't think I could get any more excited, but she was managing.

I must have surprised her when I pulled away. A small pout crossed her muzzle. "You'll get less than you asked for if keep that up," I said with a grin, tossing my shirt aside and joining her on the bed. I pulled her close to me as I lay down on my back. She lay atop me, purring softly as I stroked her back. "You want more." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," she sighed.

I slowly rolled over on the mattress until she was underneath me, my legs straddling hers. And there, underneath me, her demeanor changed. Her eyes became liquid; little pearls of tears filled the corners and caught on her dark fur. Her muzzle opened to take shallow, rapid breaths, her nostrils flared. She was so tiny; just to look into her eyes like this, my knees were about her ankles, my erection batting her thighs just above the knees. "I want this," she said. "I want you inside me."

"It might hurt a little," I said.

"My... I asked my mom for permission to get clasisted," she said in short, gasped phrases amidst breaths. "P'nyssa did it three months ago."

I didn't know what surprised me more-- that she had planned this so well that she had had her hymen excised with a knife and anaesthetic, or that she had convinced P'nyssa to do it and P'nyssa hadn't even told me. Then again, that was doctor-patient privilege I was asking her to violate, wasn't it?

I looked down at the thin, girlish body-- all bones still-- and wondered not for the first time if I should ask someone for forgiveness or absolution. "Tylia? If this goes wrong..."

"It won't," she said, her hands reaching down. She couldn't reach my cock from where she was so she wriggled underneath me until her hands made contact and began stroking me back to life.

"If it does," I insisted, "Will you forgive me?" Asking forgiveness twice was harder than I had imagined.

"I know you'll forgive me," she said, her soft, small hands already caressing my cock. "Yes, I'll forgive you."

I shifted my weight slightly, lifting one leg and bringing it between her own legs. She widened her legs, allowing me to move the other leg between them as well. I looked into her eyes as I began bearing down on her, and she moved her hands out of the way. My cock found her cunt, the thin fur around it tickling the head as it nuzzled its way into her. She arched her back slightly as the head of my cock entered her body. I pushed inward as her claws grasped my forearms and held onto me.

Hips met hips and I had no more to put into her and she had no more room for me anyway. We lay still together for a moment, her breath still heavy gasps, mine almost still so I could hear hers. "Tylia?"

"Oh, Ken... " Her voice carried sadness to my ears. "Why did you make me wait?"

"I... I had to... "

"Don't make me wait any longer... "

She tilted her head back to look up into my eyes, and I returned the gaze with a smiled. "I won't." I pulled back out of her, then pushed it home again.

I began to make love to her tiny body, grateful for the amount of wetness her cunny was pouring out between us. I was trying to be gentle, stroking slowly, gently, but the sounds she made, the growling moans, as if she were finally possessed of a spirit she had sought her whole, short life, made it impossible for me to really hold back. She was feeding my lust, and her sweet cunt enveloped my cock.

She wriggled underneath me, all groans and motion, asking me, arming me to do more. I couldn't hold back. I let my body do what it wanted. The body underneath me, the body I handled so roughly, seemed to flower open. "Yes!" she screamed with more power than I thought could come from such a small body. "Yes! More!"

Tylia became a frenzied creature, her claws burying themselves into my arms as my cock pounded her tiny frame. I heard her little whimpers, her desperate feline hissing with each exhalation. Her vision blurred before my eyes. "Oh, Fah!" she gasped. "Oh, Fah!"

I couldn't hold out much longer. Somewhere in my lust I wondered who here was the taker, who the taken, but it had long ago ceased to matter. I could feel the power of her need pulling my climax out of me, pulling me toward the resolution she wanted, and when I finally came I cried out her name in grateful worship.

"Oh, Tylia," I sighed, rolling over onto my side and off of her, pulling her close to me again. "Oh, gods... " I was crying suddenly. So, I heard, was she. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she said, her voice small and far away. "Ken... Don't ever torture me like that again. Don't make me wait."

"You don't have to, not anymore," I agreed.

"Promise?" she asked.

"I'll do my best," I said. "Tylia?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there more you want?"

I felt her shake her head as I held her against my chest. "No. Maybe... maybe in the morning."

I nodded. "Then sleep. Here, with me."

She nodded again.

"Thank you, my little girl."

"Thank you... " I missed the third word, and decided it wasn't important. She had fallen asleep on top of me. I few minutes later I realized that Murphy's Law of Cat Gravity applied even to little Felinzi-- lying atop me, she seemed to weigh twice as much asleep as she had awake. I slowly rolled her over to one side; she made only a small noise of protest as I gave her her own pillow and covered her. Then I curled myself around her and tried to get sleep of my own.