In Service of the High Queen

This is my story and is also posted in other places.

*****

Chapter 1

The onyx floors rang with the impacts of our claws, the sounds reverberating along the passageway. Keeping time with the staggered series of three steps, my heart seemed to be beating in triplicate. The two women flanking me were towering. They appeared to be normal courtesans in flowing robes with their ears protruding from their wimples and their snouts tenting their veils, but the stiffness of their gait and the way their left arms hung oddly betrayed their slim armor and compact rifles Everyone knew the reclusive, immortal god-queen and patron saint of our people hated weapons or their mere suggestion in her presence.

I had seen her many times, always from afar and in her audience chamber. I could never catch a glimpse of her face, but I recalled the tingle of her voice as it wormed into my mind to congratulate us all when I passed my civil service examinations and became a bureaucrat at the palace complex. The recollection sent a cold shiver down my spine and set my tail quivering before I could control it. It was a reminder of awe, unfathomable power, unreachable and untouchable wisdom and knowledge second only to the spirits of the afterlife. The rustle my tail made in my cape elicited a brief look from the guard to my right. My impulse to meet her gaze drew my eyes from the swirling white and black patterns on the floor.

My eyes drove themselves inexorably to the door at the far end of the hallway -- or what I believed was the far end. We were less than a dozen steps from the door.

Time moved slowly and quickly at once as the door flew down the passage to meet me. Its vaulted frame loomed over me, its damascened face parting as the two women pulled it open. A wash of light spilled through the opening, the intensity so great I felt I had gone blind.

The otherworldly neutrality of the air in this deepest part of the palace was replaced. The air was now somewhat humid, perfumed with the vegetative odor of plants and faint hints of flowers and wet earth.

My eyes adjusted to find myself in so strange an antechamber, it was as though I had been transported into a period piece. The pale sandstone walls were rather rustically constructed, painted with vermilion in a rather primitive and faded trompe-l'œil of bricks and chair railing. A skylight drenched the room in light from atop its domed ceiling, and bouquets of white flowers glowed in that light, their delicate ceramic vases resting on a pair of old lacquer desks flanking a wooden batten door opposite the one I entered through.

There were two more guards, one to each side of me, their faces just as obscured by their veils as those who were escorting me. That pair shut the door with a resonant thud before closing in on me again.

The tarnished brass handle on the wooden door stirred.

It creaked as it opened, a brighter light peeking through it. A figure blocked the light as it entered the antechamber, slipping through the partially open door before gently closing it with a click. She wore a black and white pinstriped jerkin with cream breeches ruffled at the ankle and matching gigot sleeves. It was an old style that many low-grade bureaucrats often adopted to appear sophisticated. The illusion of cheap imitation fell away with the telltale yellowing of silk, the intricate buttons, and the almost invisible stitching.

I met the figure's eyes, and I saw it was a gray-furred woman with long ear tufts. She was a head taller than I, and she looked youthful and rather attractive.

She was the queen.

She looked just like the oil paintings that adorned my and every other cubicle block.

I seemed to be in a dream. I was standing face to face with the most holy figure of my people, our eternal guide and guardian. And to my deepest shame, my first thought was that she was attractive. My fur bristled across my body, my ears stood up, and my tail went into spasms as I dropped to prostrate myself before her. On my hands and knees, my face pressed to the cool tile of the floor, I began to stutter out the formal greeting I had memorized in Old Ecclesiastical, my voice skipping and stuttering on every mistake.

I stopped speaking as I felt the guards flanking me fall back through the damascened door, the sound of its closing rattling my teeth.

An impression of speech somewhere between my ears seeped into the folds of my brain, words percolating through the all-encompassing presence that drowned out my thoughts: arise.

I rose on one knee with my hands and shook my way to standing. My tail was whipping back and forth under my cape so quickly that it strained the joint, the little vestigial organ not meant to work so hard. I could feel each and every strand of fur standing on end, the embarrassment I felt thinking how foolish I must look making my heart drum even harder and the rush of blood even louder in my ears.

Speak, she demanded.

I restarted my rehearsed speech, this time even more halting, but she cut me off, "No, speak to me in Bureaucratic, or Mirratic. I know both. You are from Mirr, no?"

My muzzle hung open. It took me a moment to realize that she had spoken with her mouth, not telepathy. Still looking at the floor, I answered in Bureaucratic, "Yes, I am, Your Holiness."

I heard a tsk from her. Looking up, I saw her scowling down at me.

"No," she started, "You will not call me that. 'Your Majesty,' 'Your Highness,' or 'My Queen' will suffice."

My veins shot through with ice. I could only muster a weak whisper, "Yes, Your H... highness."

Her face relaxed. "I studied in Mirr. It is... was a beautiful place," her voice was odd. Soft and gentle, even when she corrected me, but it lacked the intonation that would make it sound like it came from an Yvenn. It sounded like the fake voices that came from some of the thinking machines other species used to translate their languages into ours.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Please. Give me your introduction."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, my mouth working through several false starts, "I, Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora, clark and typist of the fifth grade, citizen and subject of the High Kingdom of Torahn, present myself to Your Highness at your behest. I appear to fulfill your request for a replacement for the position of the late esteemed Manat bat-Manat bat-Manat, grandmaster clark and typist." The words came in a rush, my breath completely expended when I finished my introduction.

"Yes..." she answered. She turned towards the door which she opened slightly. Looking over her shoulder, she spoke again, "Come."

I shuffled after her, my claws scraping along the tile through the door which she held for me. I could have reached out to touch her, and I shriveled internally at being so close to the holiest figure of my people. Yet her long ear tufts fluttered with her passage into the new room, the smell of a young woman scented with flowers and clean linens lingering in her wake. The two impressions couldn't coexist. My head swam.

We entered a room free of guards or anyone else. It was a long gallery with a series of arches opening onto a balcony. Vines hung over the arches and climbed down the columns, trees and bushes in pots partially obscured the view of a garden and a vista of the vast, obsidian-black pyramids of the palace complex beyond it. The room was floored with more painted tiles and walled with sandstone. The vaults above had dim electric lights and ceiling fans hanging from their apexes. Every surface of every wall was either lined with shelves or covered in decorations -- paintings, statuary, or tapestries. Many of the objects about the room were not even Yvenn, coming from different species across the galaxy. The shelves were overflowing into piles on the floor with data storage devices, myriad trinkets and unidentifiable objects, and even physical books and scrolls. Two identical lacquer desks faced each other on either end of the room. That desk closest to us was bare aside from a monitor, a keyboard, and a lamp. The other was covered in data drives and a mountain of actual papers, some yellowing and crumpled, others stark white and crisp. I wasn't quite sure when I had last seen a freshly made piece of paper. Between the two was a wide, varnished table with six chairs and a vase of fragrant, long-stemmed pink flowers that spilled over the lip of the vessel and draped themselves onto the tabletop.

The queen walked to the center of the room, leaving me standing just within the now closed door. Her hands seemed to wander of their own accord, running along the edge of the empty desk, pausing on a stack of books, stroking the velvet back of the chair she stopped beside.

She spoke with her back to me, "You know, then, the circumstances. This is good. Do you know, also, what you must do?"

My shaking had subsided somewhat, so my voice was level as I responded, "Yes, Your Highness. I am to assist you in dictation, recordation, data retrieval, and research, as well as organizing the affairs and runnings of your estate."

I could've sworn I heard the chuff of a laugh before she spoke, "You spent a lot of time memorizing. That is precisely the wording of the memo I sent to your superiors. We shall see if that translates well."

My ears warmed with embarrassment, like I was a child caught acting up by my father,

"You have done research, I trust? You are familiar with the archives?" she continued.

"Yes, Your Highness, I have done research primarily in the Central Fiscal Auditing Division assigned to the Auditors of the Spinward Sector, though I have also collected and analyzed soil and water data for regional agricultural authorities in Mirr prior to my civil service examination. And in my first grade I conducted studies for the upgrading of electrical infrastructure in remote starbases." My chest swelled with pride; it was an impressive resume for someone of my young age. My placement in the Central Fiscal Auditing Division was practically unheard of for a male of my grade.

Another suggestion of a laugh, "An auditor. I shall have to be on my best behavior."

My ears flushed again; my pride washed away to be replaced with self-consciousness. Being an auditor was prestigious for someone as relatively inexperienced as I, but we always carried a certain reputation. She waited a long moment to continue, "You are 47 years old, Bureaucrat Fifth-Grade Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora?

I could not understand why she was asking me this. Surely she had seen my files if she knew my age and that I came from Mirr. She must have disapproved of my boasting, and decided to remind me of my youth. But she herself seemed to be my age, though I knew better. Once again, trying to make her appearance conform with who she was left me confused and ashamed as I answered her, "Yes, Your Highness."

"This is good. You will have ample time to learn and serve, provided your service is satisfactory."

"Yes, Your Highness. Thank you, Your Highness. I will always leave my ears, eyes, and soul open to receive your wisdom, and I will always serve you to the utmost of my ability and beyond."

Her head jerked a quarter turn towards me, one gleaming blue eye burning, her mouth and brow contorted into a scowl. My blood ran cold, but the expression faded in an instant, her face resuming its serene neutrality, her half-lidded eyes giving her a permanently sleepy expression. "Yes..." she intoned. My muscles knotted as I searched the interaction for what could have possibly justified that response. Recalling the antechamber, it seemed to make sense. It seemed the obsequious flattery that had always tended to ingratiate me to my superiors wouldn't work here.

Another pregnant pause stretched over the room, my ears burning and my knees almost knocking in time with the frantic movement of my tail.

"Have you any questions?"

"I..." I hesitated, "No, Your Highness. Thank you, Your Highness."

"I believe you do. Ask of me, and I shall answer."

My heart skipped a beat.

I did have a question. I wanted to know why I, a low grade male of all people, was chosen for this position over any number of qualified people who might have literally killed to directly serve the god queen of our people. Surely she must have read my mind, surely she must have been doing so the whole time I had been with her.

I didn't dare defy her, so I asked, "Why me?"

Another almost-laugh, and she turned to me, fixing me with her hooded eyes, "You feel inadequate because you are a man and because you are young. You do not think you deserve this position, and you believe you are incapable of fulfilling your duties. Fortunately, that attitude tends to include overcompensation as one of its side-effects. That bodes quite well for our relationship. Rest assured, I chose you because your reputation precedes you among the right circles and you are young. It is exceedingly tiresome to retrain replacements every 50 years, so much institutional knowledge is built up only to be lost before it can be put to good use."

I could not think, so I answered in the only way I knew how, "Th... thank you, Your Highness."

"You also want to know if I can read your mind," she began, "Yes; however, I am not doing so now, and I have not done so at any point."

I gulped, "Yes, Your Highness. Thank you, Your Highness."

"You will need to learn more words if you are to do your job properly." She folded her hands before continuing, "Now then, I need you to perform your first task for me. Retrieve the names and addresses of all living relatives of your predecessor going back to her grandmother and up to three generations younger than her, then contact the reliquarian assigned to her body and verify that the proper arrangements have been made for her funerary services. Once you have all of this information, pass it to me at my desk. I have business to attend to."

The queen made her way to her desk and sat down, only the very top of her head and her ears visible through the massive stacks of papers and other items. My body felt like it deflated, tension seeping out of my shoulders and neck as I made my way to sit down at my new desk.

...

The task she had given me was utterly pedestrian to complete. Aside from some strange succession as a few family members moved offworld and a few legal changes of gender that mixed names, my predecessor's family seemed to be quite organized with their assets. The only real complication was that they seemed to prefer to name their children after their same-sex parent, which led to several people having identical names that I had to cross-reference with civic IDs in order to rectify.

My new terminal had no restrictions on access, and it had inbuilt clearance codes and priority for most queues. That, and the hardwired connections to a lot of the archives meant that information retrieval was near instant. My very first query returned hundreds of records almost instantly, making my fur stand on end in a wave down my spine.

Calling the reliquarian was a simple matter -- calls to my betters were routine even in my prior position -- though now my desk even had a privacy field that blurred the room past the desktop and muffled all external sound. I leaned back, expecting to wait for an answer, but the connection opened immediately.

The old woman on the other end of the line seemed somewhat ruffled, her eyes wide and her ears straight. She was wearing the gauzy black habit and necklace of Yvenn finger bones that identified all members of her priestly order, but she had a gilt headcover and a large, white flower perched on her lapel that marked her as a Mother Superior. I must've looked just as shocked, because a brief silence drew out over the line.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of a call directly from Her Holiness' office?" she began.

"I..." I swallowed, reminding myself that this was my job, and I knew how to do it, "I am Bureaucrat Fifth-Grade Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora. I am calling to inquire after the status of funerary preparations for the late esteemed Manat bat-Manat bat-Manat, grandmaster clark and typist, on behalf of Her Highness the Queen."

"Oh yes, you must be her replacement. Her remains have been cremated, her body plan has been recorded for the holographic projectors, and my undersecretaries have about two days' work left in compiling her state records for display purposes. I have personally inspected her place in the Royal Columbarium and sanctified it in preparation for the ceremony. All is proceeding according to schedule, and she will be laid to rest in three days' time." She clasped her hands on the desk in front of her and smiled, "Is there anything else I can assist you with, Seneschal Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora?"

Her honorific address took me aback. I glanced to the corner of my screen, and that was, indeed, my identifier. I opened and closed my mouth a couple times before answering, "No, thank you, Mother Superior. You have aided me greatly. I bid you a good day."

"You as well, Seneschal. It was my pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am at your service." She smiled again and closed the line. I stared at the blank screen for a few heartbeats. She had answered immediately, given me all the information I could have needed without me having to press her, and she had addressed me as seneschal. I let out a stifled breath.

I gathered my datapad with the list of surviving family members and stood. The room stretched past that long, enameled table to the mound of documents which obscured most of the Queen's body, save the occasional bob of her ears. My feet felt leaden as I forced them to carry me to her desk. Every click of my claws on the floor made me cringe as I approached, the datapad clutched to my chest as though it were armor.

She hadn't noticed my approach even as I was at the foot of the mound of papers. I waited, listening to what must have been a physical pen scratching across paper and the staccato clacking of keys for some time. Dread came over me as I realized she wasn't going to notice me, and I would need to make my presence known.

"Your Highness..." I choked.

She didn't seem to notice me.

"Your Highness..." I called, the quaver in my voice unintentional.

"Oh, Manat, you were waiting, my..." I saw her rise slightly to view me over her papers, her eyes actually completely open. Her eyelids sank back down as a spark of recognition lit her face, the most animation I had seen outside of her scowls.

"Oh... yes, Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora. My apologies. Have you completed what I asked of you?"

My words briefly caught hearing her address me by name, "Yes, Your Highness."

"Come around so I may sit and see you."

I sidled around the papers to see her reclined in a faded, somewhat stained and tattered pile-on-pile velvet chair. It looked like the support in the seat had given out some time ago.

"I await your report," she stated.

"Yes, Your Highness," I sputtered before launching into the words I had been preparing for the last few minutes, "I have compiled a list of the surviving family of the late esteemed Seneschal and their addresses, complete with routing information, a copy of which is on this datapad. I have also contacted the Mother Superior and she attests that all funerary preparations are proceeding smoothly, and that the service will take place three days hence."

"Very good. Thank you. Leave that..." she trailed off, eyes scanning the teetering stacks, fingers dancing over their peaks, "here." She drummed a quick beat on the top of a stack before withdrawing her hand so I could place it gingerly.

"Wait for me. I have to complete a task which will not take long."

"Yes, Your Highness."

I retreated, wishing that I had just copied the data onto a card so I could have my pad back. I slumped into my desk and stared ahead. My body relaxed merely because it had nothing else to do, and I slid into my chair. I waited, ears perked towards the Queen, for some time. But as the minutes drew out and an hour had almost elapsed, I felt like I might vibrate out of my skin, and I was feeling a creeping need to use the restroom.

Looking to distract myself, I turned to my terminal and began to randomly surf through various databases. I started with demographic data, but my eye was continually drawn to those I had never had access to before, and they called out to me. I opened the military portal and was greeted with the ability to look at near real-time updates of force concentrations and orders, admiralty assignments, promotion recommendations, and a host of classified, untested research. I was hunched in on my monitor as I was redirected to a page hosted within the Special Services Bureau. My breath caught as I moved closer, my snout almost touching the screen. I navigated to a search function, then to deployments, and as my finger hovered over the link to the Royal Estate, I heard the rustle of fabric.

I noticed her standing at the foot of my desk and yelped, snapping erect and scooting my chair backwards with a loud scrape.

She didn't seem to notice. She looked down at me for a moment, my fur on end and my tail beating against the back of my chair.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"For a moment I had thought you learned more words. But nevermind that. You will take my dictation."

I scrambled to close the archive portal and open a word processor, my ears burning. My hands hovering over the keys, "Please begin at your leisure, Your Highness."

"Very well." She turned away from me, folding her hands at the small of her back and began to speak, "Begin. Leave space here for the name of the addressee. Break. Honored relation of the late esteemed Manat bat-Manat bat-Manat, grandmaster clark and typist, and former Seneschal of the Royal Estate: please accept the Crown's condolences on the loss of your beloved relative. She devoted her life in service of her Queen and State in the furtherance..."

She trailed off into a beat of silence before restarting, "in the furtherance..."

She sighed and hung her head.

"Strike all of that. We will start over. Are you ready?"

I cleared the document with practiced ease, "Yes, Your Highness."

"Begin. To the relatives of the late esteemed Manat bat-Manat bat-Manat, grandmaster clark and typist, and former Seneschal of the Royal Estate. Break. I regret that I may not address each of you in person and by name: the burdens of state weigh heavy. Your Manat lightened that burden over one hundred and two years of devoted service before her body could withstand no more, and her spirit joined your ancestors. Her sacrifice over these years maintained the State, her contributions too numerous to quantify. She has brought great pride to her family, her ancestors, and all her descendents. You have my sincerest gratitude for producing so diligent and capable an Yvenn. You will all be provided yearly dispensations from her pension until the end of your natural lives. Please accept it as a token of my appreciation. Break. Your Queen, now and forever, Migg I, bat-Imat II, bat-Sene I. End."

The Queen turned back to me, her eyes closed. After a long exhale, she opened them and made her way around my desk. She leaned over my shoulder as I tried to make myself as small as possible. I realized that she smelled of the pink flowers on the table. Her left ear tuft grazed my shoulder, sending a shiver rippling outwards. Her alluring presence coupled with a now urgent need to make use of the facilities meant I could hardly think.

"You found the letterhead, good." She scanned what I had typed quickly and pointed, "Remove that colon, add a dash. Then increase the font size a tad and add my seal. Then send it highest priority to the addresses you found."

She walked away, without another word. My need to maintain bodily functions outweighed my fear of her wrath, so I called after her, "Your Highness?"

She turned her head slightly to look at me with her left eye, just as she had when she scowled at me, though her face was placid this time. "Hmm?"

"I must make use of a washroom, Your Highness."

"Oh, of course. Tell one of the guards in the antechamber. They will take you. Also inquire after your meal arrangements. You will have all three provided somewhere nearby. Then hurry back. You have much more to do."

"Of course, Your Highness."

She chuffed, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

________________

Chapter 2

It took me nearly five and a half days of work to complete the next assignment the Queen gave me. I was tasked with arranging the dispensations from my predecessor's pension. That time was spent on calls, waiting in queues, and then battering down office doors when I would get booted from the queue. It seemed even the desk of the Seneschal could not penetrate the Palace Complex Budgetary Committee with any reliability when my tasking had such a low priority. Nonetheless, the Queen's seal got me many places, as did strategic yelling, threats, and a few favors both called in and promised.

A full two thirds of my requests were denied automatically, all of which required special exemptions from the Queen, which I found I was able to give. Then numbers were argued and succession was disputed until I had defeated the case manager, his superior, and her superior at every turn, since the sum each person was to be paid was very substantial.

Spare moments were spent scarfing down meals and stimulants in an always deserted cafeteria and using the restroom, both a rather significant walk away in a nearby janitorial quarters. I somehow still managed to sleep well enough between my commutes to the outer rings of the complex.

The Queen was always either at her desk typing and writing or pacing, using what had been my datapad to continue working. I requisitioned a new one which arrived before the day was out, another perk of my new job. She rarely acknowledged my presence and even more rarely spoke to me, though she did greet me every morning and wish me farewell every evening. Occasionally she would disappear with a stack of paper tablets and pens into the garden for hours at a time before reappearing just as suddenly.

The sun had sunk well below the horizon, the garden illuminated by bioluminescence and the same dim orange lights that cast their glow over the Queen's office. I had just gotten the final of the dozens of acceptance notifications I had accrued. Leaning back in my chair, I stretched with a contented sigh.

I moved the list of acceptances onto a card and stood, approaching the Queen's desk. I hadn't done so since the first time. My stomach was knotted, my tail twitching slightly, but it seemed easier this time, for I was quite proud of my work.

I reached her desk and announced myself, "Your Majesty..."

"Oh. A new form of address. Very good." She said, her head peering over the stacks, "In the future just come around to the side here."

I came around to see her sprawled out on her chair, her slender limbs hanging across the ancient arms and seat. She continued, "What do you require, Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora?"

My heart fluttered hearing her speak my name again, "I have done what you asked of me, My Queen."

She shuffled some papers and objects and what appeared to be a somewhat desiccated, partially eaten piece of bread with meat atop it around her desk to reveal a stained and wrinkled tablet: a physical calendar. I hadn't ever actually seen one before.

She scanned it and turned to me, a hint of surprise in her voice, "Oh! That was more expedient than I had accounted for..."

Her voice trailed into mumbling, and her eyes seemed to lose focus, fixing on the floor between my feet.

"You know," she began, a dreamlike quality to her words. Her voice, for the first time, was emotive as she spoke. She sounded like a flesh and blood Yvenn, albeit one lost in memory and melancholy, "When I was younger than you, I had to secure funding for the first of my expeditions. Grandmother hadn't any faith in me then -- I was a scientist, you see. A botanist. Mother didn't hold the purse strings, and Grandmother hadn't any faith in me. I was I think younger than you and I had to go through what was then called the Bureau of Royal Expenditures. It was significantly less byzantine than the Palace Complex Budgetary Committee, you see. I couldn't recall a more frustrating experience at the time..."

She trailed into mumbling again before her face grew more taut and she met my gaze. I studied my claws. In her neutral voice, she began again, "What I mean to say is: well done. You may go home now. I need to determine what I will have you do next."

I turned and gathered my things from my desk. My heart swelled with pride at being praised by the Queen, but I was confused by her tangent. It was utterly uncharacteristic of her. Her words bounced around my skull as I rode the train home and lay in bed.

...

I entered from the antechamber with the early morning sun, the Queen already pacing with what had become her datapad. She was wearing a somewhat yellowed chiffon and lace dress covered with a long, geometrically patterned jerkin. The black and white fabric stopped just above the knee, her legs hidden in a poof of diaphanous fabric. She passed an arch to the garden, the crisp light filtering through the dress and drawing her legs into profile. She was perched on the thin digits of her toes. The fur on her legs made a faint haze about her delicate heels and ankles and calves which trailed up to the barest hint of the fullness of her thighs. My breath caught which caused her head to pivot towards me.

"Oh, good morning, Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora."

My head swam as I answered, my tone bashful, "Good morning, My Queen." Somehow the words felt different this morning.

"Wait just a moment. I have written down what I need of you."

She moved to her desk, hands glancing off shelves and chairs, and she rummaged a bit.

I stood, hands holding the back of my chair, as she returned with a torn scrap of paper.

"Yes, that was it. There are reports of an environmental crisis of some sort on An Sene. Local governments have yet to resolve it, and a formal request has been made for my audience. Determine the nature of the crisis and deliver a summary to me as quickly as you are able."

I was somewhat shocked. She couldn't possibly have given me a more vague assignment. Nonetheless, I answered, "Yes, Your Highness."

She returned to her desk and took up her pad before resuming her pacing.

My mind was consumed with panic as I sat, but I had to remind myself to approach the problem systematically. The frantic thoughts in my head quieted as I outlined what I needed to know. After diving into the reports I had access to, I was sucked in. They started at a series of monasteries ringing a river basin. Several pilgrims fell ill to some manner of toxin or pathogen in the water, then the monks found their water supplies tainted by rot and abnormally high nitrogen, heavy metal, and ammonia content. They pointed to a government administered farming complex upriver. The complex cited strange atrophies over the last season and pointed a finger at a public-private fertilizer manufactory nearby, blaming them for abnormal nitrogen levels and defective product. The manufactory retreated behind corporate lawyers connected to the all private phosphate mining concern that controlled the majority of the publicly traded stock in the fertilizer plant. They blamed the environmental hazards on a particularly heavy monsoon season that caused minor flooding and washouts throughout the region. As the debate raged, fish kills spread across the estuary and increased water toxicity affected a slew of villages downriver and eventually collapsed several delicate ecosystems under the purview of The Stewards who administered An Sene as an Independent Ecclesiastical World. As of last report, the fish kills were continuing, and all the monasteries and some outlying villages were evacuated, and no solution had been found.

All of this was pieced together over that whole day and part of another. In a flash, that day went by and then another two. By then a map I had commissioned to show the extent of the damage was complete, and every lead I had found lead to no satisfying resolution.

I hung my head in my hands, frustrated and with a sinking feeling in my stomach. The Queen had asked for a summary only. Perhaps I could just pass on everything I had learned and allow her to make a conclusion? She would certainly see something I couldn't. Then again, I had no summary to give. I had a collection of disparate information from biased sources.

I opened my map again, hoping I might have missed something. On a hunch, I started to overlay historical map data, thinking maybe there was some lingering pollutant that was disturbed by the floods, perhaps from an old factory used during The Era of War. I referenced every survey of the region taken since it was terraformed, and I found no such factories or any other possible source. Irrationally hoping the date filing was wrong, I navigated back one map. It was the third filed historically, the actual data somewhat corrupted. It was written in archaic Bureaucratic that seemed more like Old Ecclesiastical than anything else, but it was clear that it was a map of terraforming stations just prior to the onset of operation. Dead in the center of a field of dunes that would become the northern edge of the estuary was a terraforming station. I overlaid the map I had made and this old one. The mountain ranges mostly lined up, and every reported fish kill, toxic water supply, and algal bloom was downriver of where that station had been. It had to be connected. A quick search of protocol from that era of terraforming revealed that terraforming stations were typically mothballed and left untouched but mostly functional in case of emergency due a lack of faith in what was still a relatively new technology.

I shot up from my desk, pushing back my chair which shrieked in protest. The Queen noticed my movement this time. I froze briefly as she peered from her desk, but then I pressed on to the right side of her desk.

"You have something to say?" she asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty, I believe I am ready to summarize the crisis on An Sene and perhaps even posit a solution," I couldn't have controlled the pride and elation in my voice if I tried.

She let out a quiet laugh, "Deliver your summary."

I relayed the situation and my conclusion: somehow the recent flooding had disturbed the old terraforming station, now buried under the silt, and the environmental issues could all be traced back there.

The Queen listened, seeming aloof the whole time. When I finished, she nodded, "Show me the maps."

I scurried back to my desk and overlaid the two maps again. She leaned over my shoulder, the soft fabric of her sleeve brushing against my ear and cheek as she manipulated the screen. Each strand of fur that it touched seemed to tingle against my skin.

"Based upon what you have told me, I agree with your conclusion entirely. I will now dictate a missive to the local authorities. Are you ready?"

I took down a brief letter instructing the planetary government to investigate the old terraforming facility and report their findings back to the Queen. She leaned over again and ordered me to correct some typesetting to conform with a specific format needed in this circumstance. She smelled differently today, some herbaceous scent that was vaguely minty. It whirled around my senses. My eyes could hardly focus as I stamped and sent the communique. She walked to the front of my desk and folded her hands in front of her.

"An atypically satisfying resolution to an utter waste of my time. Thank you. Good work. Go eat your noontime meal. I will have work for you when you return."

My breast swelled at her praise, and I bustled out the door towards the janitorial quarters.

...

I returned from my meal to find a folder on my desk so brimming with papers that it had ripped and was held together with adhesive tape and rubber bands. The Queen was nowhere to be found, and there wasn't even a label on the folder, so I set about removing documents from their trappings and trying to sort them out. It was a mishmash of schematics, data cards, memos, meeting minutes, communiques, and handwritten notes in some language and script that I could not read but bore a close, neat hand that said they must have been written by the Queen.

After some time had passed, I was about halfway through the stack. At this point, the Queen came in from the gardens with her pens and pads. I sat at attention, ears perked towards her and eyes open, but she reached her desk before she noticed my presence. She perked slightly at the sight of me and approached, hands at the small of her back.

"Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora, I see you have begun. The folder you have already... delved into... contains all of the information on an ongoing series of weapons trials to adopt some such mechanism or the other for the Navy. It became such an ordeal that the Admiralty saw fit to involve me. The whole thing has dragged on well past its interest to me, and you will resolve it for me." She stood silent for a heartbeat then turned and made her way to her desk.

In the context of a competition for a weapons system, the folder made much more sense. The unfortunate reality I was forced to contend with upon organizing the file was that I had no idea what I was looking at. As this dawned on me, I became more and more worried until by the time I was set to eat my evening meal, I had no desire to eat, and by the time I was to return home for the night, I felt ill.

I lay awake all that night organizing my thoughts and formulating a plan. My panic and exhaustion coalesced into determination and eagerness, so I decided to channel my energy into my work and departed for the center of the Palace Complex early.

I arrived with the rosy fingers of dawn, and was let in by the guards without protest, something I had feared would come to pass. I had been at work for some time sifting through archives on elementary physics when the only other door to the room opened and the Queen entered. A small, delicate cup and saucer steamed in her hands, their surfaces run through with gilded lines along repaired cracks. She seemed just as put together as always, today wearing long, straight trousers and one of her typical jerkins that left her arms exposed beyond the lacy ruffs at the shoulders. Her fur was creamy under her arms and around her hands, fading to an ashen gray on their topsides. It was silken and flawlessly combed, not one hair out of place. The arms themselves were delicate, soft with the fat that came from a physically undemanding lifestyle. My ears flushed. I couldn't control the lingering of my gaze.

She saw me immediately and froze. Her eyes were wide, and to my surprise, her ears flushed. With shaking hands, she placed the cup and saucer on the table and turned to me, fists clenched at her sides. My heart sank as her eyes settled on me.

"Good morning, Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora," she began, the quiver of anger in her voice was amplified by how almost-imperceptible it was, "You have not been instructed thusly, so I will not consider it a demerit, but you will never arrive before your slated time again." I felt my hair standing on end across my body and heard my tail thwacking the back of my chair. My ears were flat to my head, and I noticed with embarrassment that I had sunk somewhat under my desk.

Her face twitched, a scowl forming and disappearing like a flickering light. When she spoke again, her voice was utterly neutral, "Have you understood?"

"Yes, Your Highness," I squeaked.

"Very good." she answered. She seemed to deflate and then looked somewhat lost. Turning to her cup, in a small, quiet voice, she mused to herself, "What a shame, my tea shall have to go cold." With that, she left the cup and saucer on the table and sat at her desk. Only after hearing the clack of keys did I rise in my chair and start working.

...

It took me several months of continuous study to build up the background knowledge I needed to even understand the documentation I was provided, and the Queen never once checked on the status of the project. Occasionally, she would tell me I had a new task that would supersede that one for a few days before I would simply return to work. There was a certain feeling of joy from being able to devote so much time to pursuits of the mind as part of my career, but there was always a nagging feeling that I was doing something wrong.

After finishing what I decided would be the full extent of my studies, I realized that I would be unable to really grasp the material or make an informed decision without a lifetime's practice and expertise. I needed help, and that meant experts, which meant funding. I felt a stone settle in my stomach as I realized I would need to ask the Queen for money.

I gathered my courage and went over to her desk, after taking a moment to finish scrawling a note, she turned to me, "Yes, Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora?"

We hadn't spoken for some days outside of greetings, and hearing my name come from her mouth enlivened me, "Your Majesty, I have been gathering background information for the weapons trial project, and I regretfully must admit that I will be unable to develop the requisite expertise to act in the best interests of My Queen and the State. With your permission, I would like to establish a small discretionary fund for the purposes of the project."

"No need. This is a War Department endeavor. Bill them," she waved her hand dismissively, "I am certain there's already some budgetary category set aside somewhere."

"Very well, My Queen..." I was thrown for a loop briefly until I presented her a datacard, "Here is a preliminary list of the expenditures I think will..."

She interrupted by pushing away the card, her gaze now fixed on her monitor, "Do not bother me with that."

I opened and closed my mouth a few times before trying a different tact, "Your Majesty, I wish to ensure that I have made prudent decisions with funds, and your wisdom..."

Her eyes jerked to meet me, a cold fire in their blue depths, but her voice was still soft and steady, "Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora, I will enlighten you as to a reality of the High Kingdom of Torahn. We have a productive output that single-handedly rivals that of the Ancients, and we have preferential access to markets across the entire galaxy. You could authorize every single one of your little expenses and embezzle an additional ten percent and you would not even approach making a noticeable impact on my bottom line." The fire in her eyes dissipated, "Do what you must. You have access to my seal."

I clutched the card to my chest, "Yes Your Highness. I will not disappoint you."

I had to stare at the ceiling for a few moments once I collapsed into my chair.

...

Figuring it was best to enlist the help of experts not associated with the Ordinance Bureau which was officially running the testing, I sent out requests to several universities and some more junior officers. In the meantime, I familiarized myself with the 20 year development process and the now 5 year competition for what was to replace the current point defense turrets for anti-piracy vessels. It all seemed to have stalled due to every member of the board having a favorite entrant, all of which were relatively similar, and remaining doggedly intransigent.

It didn't take long to secure two engineers, a physicist, and a precocious rear admiral, and from there, we poured over technical documentation. After several more months, we came to the conclusion that we needed to hold our own tests outside the meddling influence of the Admiralty. As bigger and bigger sums had to be apportioned, my feelings of wrongdoing grew, but my more immediate fear of asking for permission from the Queen overpowered that more amorphous worry.

After nearly a year into what had ballooned into a massive undertaking, the Queen had never once asked after my progress, and we had spoken only about smaller concerns that would occasionally divert me for no more than a month at most.

In the middle of one morning, the Queen wandered in from one of her mysterious forays into the garden. She paused in her tracks just within an archway and turned to me.

"Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora, there was that whole production with the admirals, something or other about a competition. How is that proceeding?"

I looked up from my desk, a little ruffled, "Oh, Your Majesty, of course! All is proceeding quite smoothly. We are entering a final round of tests, and the selection should be made before the new year."

She nodded absentmindedly, "Very good..." she trailed, her voice becoming listless. She floated to the table, her fingers stroking a chair back and alighting upon the tabletop. "You know," she began, that strange, dreamy tone creeping into her voice, "Mother always was so enamored with weapons and space vessels and all that manner of things. Before the accident, I felt as though it had been years since we had spoken of something else..."

She stared at her fingertip as she drew a spiraling motif in the dust on the table, "I often think that perhaps it would have been better had she been the one to preside over all those dreadful wars..."

She doodled a moment longer, my breath caught in my throat. I felt utterly paralyzed, not out of fear per se, but a deep confusion. In her moments like this, she was captivating. That etherealness that hung heavy over her melted away, and she seemed to me to be a beautiful, melancholic young woman. She was pensive and enigmatic like this, and I found myself wondering if this was who she was before she became a living goddess. I felt an intense, overriding curiosity about her, and I would've given anything to learn more about whoever this woman was that peered through the cracks in her aloof façade.

Suddenly, her body became somewhat more rigid, and she straightened from her slouch. She glanced in my direction, but would not meet my gaze. To my surprise, her ears flushed and she stumbled over her words, "P... pay me no heed. Very good. Continue."

Without another word or glance, she retreated behind her mountain of paperwork, and I dove back into mine.

...

All told, the whole selection process took slightly less than a year, and it required many times more capital than had entered my coffers over my whole career. The result was anticlimactic relative to the effort expended: the new systems offered small but meaningful improvements over the old, but no existing production lines could be reliably converted, and each competitor entailed an unacceptably large logistical challenge of one sort or the other over the existing weapon. In the end, I determined that the best option was to shut down the program and retain the weapons already in service. As I gathered my findings onto a data card to pass on to the Queen, I felt that such a result might be perceived as a failure, but I was so proud of the thoroughness with which I had conducted my task, that I felt I could defend myself very reasonably. For the first time, I strode over to her desk with a bit of a jaunt in my step, and I spoke before she addressed me.

"My Queen..."

She had a morsel of bread with unmelted butter globbed atop it halfway to her mouth in one hand and a pen in the other. She set the bread down onto a yellowing, embroidered handkerchief and rubbed her fingers together over it before turning to me. I couldn't help but find her irresistibly cute: the way her mouth hung somewhat open to take a bite, the haphazard construction of her food, her sapphire eyes flitting from the bread to my face, the hint of reluctance in her movement as she set it down and turned to me, the demure way she cleaned the crumbs from her finger pads and fur.

"What do you bring me, Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora?"

I described my endeavors in the broadest possible strokes, outlined the results for each competitor, and delivered my verdict that the competition be terminated with what I thought was great eloquence. When I finished, I had a puffed chest and a broad smile across my face.

And then the Queen started to giggle. It was a bright laugh that bubbled up from deep in her chest.

I was utterly crestfallen. My shoulders drooped and the smile fell from my face. I must've looked such a fool as I delivered my report.

Still chuckling, she waved a hand at me, "Oh I am not laughing at you!" There was mirth in her voice for the first time. It was sunny and girlish as it rang in my head, "My meek little secretary, I daresay you have foreshortened a few careers on this day!" I stifled my own laugh with an awkward smile.

She broke off into another burst of giggling, "All those pompous egos with their foolish hats in the Admiralty will be smarting from this, indeed!" She waved me away as she chuckled softly into her hand, "Go, take your dinner; I will deliver this message personally. I simply must see their faces." She looked radiant with a smile: young and vital and gorgeous. My heart leapt as she muffled her laugh with a hand. I made my way to the cafeteria quite satisfied, my chest warm and fuzzy, and I tried to commit every strand of fur on her smiling face to memory as I absentmindedly ate. I knew I would've given anything to see it again.

When I returned from my meal, the Queen was pacing with her pad, humming some tune with the slightest suggestion of a smile on her face. I couldn't help but stare at her as my heart did somersaults.

________________

Chapter 3

Another year passed in service to the queen. I occasionally had larger projects, though I hadn't been given another quite so involved as the weapons trials. Mostly I handled menial tasks the Queen didn't want to deal with and passed off to me. The elation and energy I felt when I first began to work for her tapered off not long after I finished with the trials. She never seemed to need a rest, though I did have holidays on major religious festivals when she would be expected to make public appearances. Otherwise, I worked long hours, leaving my home with the rising sun and returning after dark. It took its toll. The few friends and what social life I had disappeared, though we endeavored to keep in touch as best we could, and the exhaustion slowly started to consume me. The stimulants most members of the vast Civil Service System used to meet stiff deadlines became routine.

Even those failed me as my physician directed me to stop taking them for good or die within the next few years. Tiredness was my everyday, and I felt myself becoming more sluggish and perpetually anxious as I fought tooth and claw to stay focused on my work.

One afternoon, my snout deep in my work, I started when I heard the Queen call out my name.

"Are you deaf or simply not listening?"

My ears burned as I tried to smoothe the fur on my neck and arms, "No, Your Highness, a thousand apologies, Your Highness!"

"It is good that you are paying attention now." She spoke neutrally, but her fists balled at her hips sent ice shooting through my veins.

"Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora. Tell me: have you been reliably checking the recipients on all outgoing communiques from your desk?"

"Of... of course Your Highness!" A sinking feeling started in my stomach.

"You have..."

She paused, her eyelids opening to reveal all of her burning eyes. Her ears twitched, flicking her luxuriant tufts. The nostrils on her wet, pink nose flared. The corners of her mouth curved down, revealing the ivory needles of her teeth. Her brow furrowed with scorn.

"Illuminate me, then..." she spoke, uncommon bile in her tone, "as to why an undersecretary to the deputy director of the Special Services Bureau received a work order for repairs to your terminal and a first-grade functionary at Palace Requisitions received classified documentation not marked for clearance outside the upper echelons of the Intelligence Services?"

My vision clouded momentarily, a ringing drowning out my thoughts.

"Speak!" she roared, real rage in her voice for the first time.

"I do not know Your Highness! I would not do such a thing!" I spoke as I frantically searched through my outbox, hoping against hope that there was some mistake. Not far down the list of sent communiques, I saw a pair of messages sent only minutes apart: one to Palace Requisitions and one to the Special Services Bureau. And the content of them was switched. I felt like I would vomit.

The Queen remained silent, staring down at me with a cold fire.

"Your Highness..." I choked, balling my hands in front of my face, "I am so sorry... I do not know how I could have done this, I..."

"Cease your sniveling," she ordered, her voice once again neutral in a way that terrified me even more, "A furious Intelligence Director, an entire cubicle block probed, and five functionaries mind-wiped. How. Did. This. Happen?"

Every word struck me like a blow from a hammer. Only through terror could I gather the strength for my weak reply, "I am very tired, Your Highness."

"You are... tired?"

"Yes, Your Highness." I felt as though a dam broke within me, tears welling at the corner of my eyes, "I am so sorry to have failed you! I am exhausted. I work for so long, I hardly sleep. I am not strong enough to work so hard, I cannot continue, I cannot be good enough for you! I was taking stimulants, but I was ordered to stop... and... and I'm so tired!" Without meaning to, I had shifted into Mirratic.

The Queen continued to scowl at me, and my terror grew, a tear now truly rolling down my snout. I struggled to form my words in Bureaucratic between unsteady breaths "Please, Your Highness, allow me one more chance, I can make it up to you, I will do whatever you require of me, I will be better! I..."

"Oh hush," she commanded, and my mouth shut with a snap. There was the barest hint of compassion in her voice -- I could hardly believe my ears. "You were working longer hours than you were capable, yet you said nothing. It has been almost two years of nearly perfect performance, and you allowed yourself to degrade to this point. Why did you not notify me?"

"Because... because I wanted to serve you well, Your Highness. Because you work these hours, and I would not leave you without my service."

Her face flashed with the briefest moment of anger, but her flat voice didn't show it, "Do you think yourself better than your Queen?"

My mouth went dry, it was difficult to choke out my answer, "No, Your Highness."

"Then why would you, a mortal and a common secretary, think you might have cause to compare yourself to me?"

"I would never do so, Your Highness, I swear it! I merely wanted to serve you to the best of my ability!"

"I believe you wanted to coddle your ego and your pride by appearing to excel, and in believing you knew best how to serve me, you have failed me." She said it like it was a fact.

Part of me knew she was right, and it shriveled as cold fear overtook me. I was bent double over my desk, looking up at her, wringing my hands, "I am so sorry, Your Highness, please! Please allow me one more chance! I do not wish to lose this position, it is everything to me!"

"Tell me, Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora, is my cult still in vogue? I know that it was one or two centuries ago."

The apparent non-sequitur threw me, and I paused, "There are many who still worship in your temples, but I believe that most have returned to the old ways."

"Are you a member of my cult?"

I was terrified to answer, I could not tell which answer she would prefer, but I knew that she would be able to tell if I were lying.

"No... Your Highness."

"Why?"

My throat still felt full of cotton; nevertheless, I answered in a raspy voice, "I... I do not believe it is right to scorn our ancestors or the worlds that birthed them... and I do not think it is right to hold a living queen..." my words caught, and I could only continue just above a whisper, "in higher esteem than those who have come before."

Her fists unballed as her eyes lost focus, taking on that dreamy quality. The strange mood passed in a moment, and she fixed me with her usual, hooded eyes, "I see. Why, then, are you so eager to serve me?"

"I wish to honor my bloodline and the Sta..."

She chopped a hand to cut me off, "Why is it that you are so eager to serve me?"

My jaw worked soundlessly before I found my words, "Because I have given my life to the Civil Service, because without it I would be nothing. Serving you is the culmination of my life's work... and it is my greatest pride."

I could've sworn a hint of a smirk crossed her snout. She slid around the left side of my desk, bending over my chair. I shrunk away from her, trying to hide my shaking body and beating tail and puffed fur from the world. But she smelled of the pink flowers again today. Her scent invaded my body and sapped my will. It drew me in.

"Oh really?" She chuckled as she placed one arm on the arm of my chair and the other on the desktop to my right, looming over me. Her voice had a deep, sensuous timbre to it. It set off alarms of all types throughout my nervous system.

The hand resting on the arm of my chair enveloped mine. Her digits were slender, the finger pads without blemish or callus, and her fur made my immaculately kept hands seem rough and coarse. Her touch felt like a blessing even as fear raged in my mind. She tugged, drawing me upright.

My eyes were wide, my ears flat and scarlet, and my tail sounded like some machine on an assembly line. Yet try as I might, I couldn't tear away from meeting her leer. Her eyes, normally tired and blank, were animated with passion and desire. Despite my best interests, I wanted to sate that desire.

She tugged again, only succeeding in jerking me in my seat. Her second hand grabbed me by the back of my collar, and she pulled me to standing. When she had me standing on quivering legs, one hand steadying my shoulder, she looked down at me. Her hungry gaze scanned me from eartip to claws. Unbidden arousal mixed with terror in my thoughts. Her smirk deepened, "A career boy..."

She tugged me by my hand, walking backwards, leading me with her. My eyes darted around the room, I couldn't tell if I was searching for an escape or making sure there were no witnesses.

"When I was your age, it was all the rage for boys to have a career. With this stifling return to tradition, there aren't many of your kind left. I think something is lost, don't you?" her voice sounded increasingly salacious, dripping with saccharine condescension. I had the impression of being a fly drawn to a predatory plant, and it excited me even more. She stopped at the near end of the table and pulled me close to her chest. Her scent enveloped me again. Her body heat radiated from her breast, heavy breath blowing down into my face from her flaring nostrils. I never wanted to stop feeling this -- all of it.

I was looking up at her with wide, wet eyes, my heart thumping and my torso moving with short, shallow breaths. She turned and trapped me against the table. Her hands moved to my waist. Their touch was like a series of jolts of electricity, every gentle fall of her finger pads shocking me. I shuddered, pushing out an indecent breath. Her hands slid down my hips, my skin feeling like it was on fire, and she applied a gentle, almost unnoticeable upward pressure. I couldn't tell at whose behest, but I slid myself onto the tabletop.

Wordlessly, the hands slid back up the legs of my hose. I always wore black hose because my red fur would shine through with the white, even if they were thick. Her almost white digits glowed against the fabric as they travelled under the hem of my skirt. I gasped, "Your Highness!"

She shushed me, her hands traveling past my mid thigh towards my groin, inch by ponderous inch. My expectation built with their passage. She was leaning farther over me as her hands traveled, her smirk broadening into a lascivious grin. Her hands paused at the waistband of my hose, fingertips dangerously close to the cleft between my legs.

I felt the tugging as she began to unbutton them from my doublet. Consuming arousal and panic had effectively precluded me from forming rational thought.

"Wha... what are you doing?"

"Hush."

She reached around me to keep unbuttoning, her hands conspicuously glancing off my rump and playing about the base of my tail. I reflexively arched into her probing touch. Her right hand roughly stroked and pulled my tail as she undid the strap above it with the other. I couldn't think. Fear and confusion churned in my brain, but I felt a tingle working its way up my spine from my penis, the space between my thighs where it hid getting hot and somewhat wet.

In a flash, her hands moved to my hips and jerked my hose down. I shot upright, clamping my thighs together and holding my skirt tight over top of them, "Your Highness, I do not think this is right!" I blurted. A lifetime's social conditioning overrode my body's most ardent desire to display myself for her.

She placed a hand in the center of my chest and guided me onto my back. I put up no resistance. Likewise, I made no effort to stop her from flipping my skirt onto my stomach and parting my legs.

Straining my neck to look at her over my chest and clothes, I saw her eyes wide and sparkling, a predatory grin on her lips. She chuffed a laugh as I saw her arms move, their ends obscured from my view.

Fingers grazed my slit, and I loosed a moan that I had to suppress by holding my mouth shut.

Her eyes flicked to me as she laughed at my outburst -- a low, dark sound. Her hands floated across me like they did on the books and knick knacks in the room as she walked. They alighted upon my thighs and then my hips and then my mound, only touching my increasingly wet slit when I could hardly take the anticipation any longer. It was as though she knew precisely what I was feeling.

"A flame-haired boy..." she mused in her dreamy voice, a surprising awe turning it breathy, "just like the frescos and those frivolous old books I read in university..."

As she trailed into mumbling, her fingers splayed my slit and started to pet the growing nub of my everting penis. She seemed like she was almost trying to pull it out of me.

"Wait! Wait!" I pleaded as embarrassment welled up again, "We shouldn't... this isn't right!"

She shushed me again, but I continued to babble as my mind fogged with pleasure and fear. She was so beautiful and so skillful with her hands. I wanted nothing more than for her to continue, but the terror at whatever could be the consequences fought bitterly against my arousal.

"You said it yourself: you are tired. Allow yourself to rest."

"I do not think we should do this, Your Highness!" I groaned. My penis was almost fully everted, her hand wrapping around it as I spoke, "It is profane! I..."

"Be quiet." I felt the presence of her mind loom over me. It wormed into the folds of my brain. A foreign sedation and calm sapped my strength, and I collapsed to the table with a moan as the base of my penis slipped free into her hand. Her mind released me as her three fingers encircled the tip of my penis and pushed down its tapered length. It flexed upwards reflexively as her fingers passed the bulb nearest my body and clamped tight around its thin stem, throbbing with dull pleasure.

I gasped and jerked up onto my elbows, "I don't want..." I stuttered in Mirratic, "I'm not ready!"

She cooed to me, "You may lie to yourself, but you cannot deceive me. I am no fool. I see your would-be surreptitious glances. I know what you want. Why would you protest when I'm giving you exactly what you desire?" Her grip tightened until it was like iron. She pulled with it as her other hand rubbed along my length.

Something about what she said lit a fire in me. "I think you are lying to yourself too!" I spat with a venom I was beyond caring about. "You want me! You think this is the first time this has happened? With the others, they at least had the dignity to act like they wanted to give me advice or shepherd my career! There was a pretense of a trade! They bought me fine wine and food! They never took me in their office, like... like a letch!" I put all the vitriol I could behind my last words. While I was being truthful, I couldn't deny that the prospect was exciting, and it softened the blow.

I watched her kneel, her maw opening to reveal the needles of her teeth, her long tongue snaking out to wrap itself around my penis. I felt the vibrations of her laughter through it. I groaned as my member was engulfed in warm wetness and the pace of her tugging increased. Her left hand stroked my thigh.

Her presence infiltrated my thoughts again, her voice seeming to sound from between my ears.

How cute. You are so very full of surprises.

"I... I..."

There you have it: we both lied. How dreadful. Surely you know that I can see how much you adored the affections and the praises of your superiors? I applaud your subversion. You always knew they were lying, and in the end you deceived them. You find this impossibly erotic and you wanted this to happen, you merely fear for your precious career. What a conniving little creature you are.

My ears burned as she spoke aloud the thoughts that had been buffeting me for some time. Perhaps I had made a mistake.

A bolt of pleasure shot up my spine as my orgasm started, setting my whole body shivering and flushing with blood.

Looking down, I saw the first flush of my semen leak onto her waiting tongue. It was no longer wrapped around me, but lapping at the underside of my penis as she tugged on the base and pet the top with the fur atop her other hand. My come leaked down into her gullet in a pearly stream as each tug drew out another small flow. Warm euphoria filled my body as I relaxed onto the dusty surface of the table. My breathing settled as waves of calming sensation washed over me with every drop the Queen pulled into her mouth.

There... that's what you needed, is it not?

This psychic message felt warm, affectionate, placating, condescending.

I didn't have the faculties to respond. Her doting licking slowed after a few minutes as the warmth started to fade into a dull, thrumming afterglow and the flow of my emission trickled to a stop. Whereas the end of an orgasm would normally be satisfying, I felt disappointed. Not because it wasn't one of the best I had ever had, but because I wanted more. I wanted more of her.

She stood slowly, giving me a long, sordid view into her mouth as she conspicuously curled her tongue to slide the last of my semen down her throat. She licked her lips and sneered down at me, surprisingly unruffled, save for the matted fur on her hands and at the corners of her mouth.

"Now," she started in her typical, uninflected voice, "You will go home this instant and take tomorrow as a day of rest. Henceforth, you will arrive an hour later and leave an hour earlier, and one day in a sixday will be earmarked for repose. Do you understand?"

Looking up at her while I was splayed on the table, my slowly inverting penis protruding between us, my skirt flipped up about my midriff, and my hose at my ankles, I said the first thing that came to mind, "What about you?"

Her voice was genuinely surprised and somewhat flustered when she replied. Again she sounded like a young woman, "What about 'what about me'?"

She was adorable beyond words; always so prim and proper, yet now she was standing there, somehow baffled at my offering to give her an orgasm while my semen matted her fur. I couldn't help but laugh, and in Mirratic I answered, "I want to make you come... My Queen." I almost forgot to add the honorific.

Her eyes were wide and her mouth agape, she looked infinitely cute as she scanned the background like the right answer was written in one of her books.

Her demeanor stiffened into prissiness as she replied, "Certainly."

I sat up, expecting to get on my knees, but she sat down in the chair to my left and put a hand on my thigh before I could slip off the table.

...

In an instant, I found myself more oppressed by her vast consciousness than I had ever felt, so much so that my own comparatively small ego detached into senselessness. When I could comprehend again, I felt hot, humid air all about me, and I knew I couldn't be on Yve. Looking around me, everything was a vibrant green. My vision was odd: too broad and acute.

I heard the Queen's voice in my head just as I had earlier,

Do not tarry. Mount me.

Searching for her, I could only see some Yvenn-sized monster before me. It was pure white with ribbed violet fringes across a long carapace meeting an upright torso. Four spindly limbs sprouted from the carapace with two robust, bladed arms attaching in an unnervingly Yvenn-like manner to the shoulders of the torso. A grotesque head peered back at me from gleaming compound eyes. Cruel mandibles sprouted from between them like scissors. Somehow, I knew it was her.

My proprioception told me my smaller, green body was constructed the same as hers. I could move just as freely in this form as the vaguely remembered body I typically inhabited.

What do I do? I thought, and somehow she heard me.

That body knows, merely allow it to act.

I focused on my body and in some intuitive sense found that it did know what to do. It moved of its own volition, and I became increasingly aware of some sensation like an eversion in my Yvenn body. The organ felt off, but it was recognizable. At once, some deeply primal, raw lust overtook me. It impelled me toward her with desperate abandon.

That strange organ glanced off her carapace at first. With a second attempt, it met a resistance that it pushed through with a sharp crack and a wash of seething pleasure as harsh, rigid ribs scraped down its length. That pleasure hardly dampened the burning, instinctual drive that originated somewhere between this foreign body and me.

I got the impression of a sharp inhale and a long exhale that shaped into a drawn out yes from the Queen.

I found this insect on one of my expeditions on some world or the other, I forget which. They have such an alluring reproductive practice. You did not merely penetrate me, you stabbed through my exoskeleton.

I was struggling to understand, especially as this body I inhabited moved wildly in and out of her, but her thought-speech was almost as captivating as the drive to mate with her. This creature did not couple like an Yvenn. The male thrusted viciously, raking his organ against the cruel walls of the female's. It was primal, deviant, enthralling.

And they feel like this? I asked.

The Queen's sunny laugh rang in my mind, Oh no, they do not mate for pleasure as we do. I took some... artistic license. It is quite... different, is it not?

Yes. Does this excite you, My Queen?

A lurid chuckle filled my thoughts, So very much. The practices of one's own species do become stale after a point. Does it unnerve you?

Yes, but I don't want to stop.

Good boy.

As her mind conveyed those words, I somehow knew I was being given a reward, and I felt an orgasm building. But it was not the soft cresting of a wave that I was used to. It was a harsh, searing sensation. It mixed with an overriding feeling of contentment and fulfillment, like I had just done the only thing I was ever meant to do. At the height of its climb as the orgasm almost crashed over me, I felt a hard, sharp surface graze my neck.

The explosive pleasure of the climax mixed with a blinding pain that left my world silent and black.

This is my favorite part of these creatures. When the male ejaculates, the female decapitates him and devours all of him, save the generative organs which will remain trapped inside her. Even in death, he will inseminate her. For the rest of the season, she will not mate again. It is so romantic.

I couldn't speak or feel or think. My whole experience was limited to the thrusting of this beast's carapace and the all-consuming pleasure of this strange, horrible orgasm.

Reproductive activity is controlled through a ganglion right at the rear of the carapace, not too far from the reproductive organs. The male only becomes more impassioned as he perishes. I couldn't imagine a more erotic creation of nature.

...

Suddenly, I could see. My vision was hazy, but it was mine. My body was mine as well. I was half naked on the table with that imposed calm once again subduing me.

I heard a long, drawn out sigh. I looked to see the Queen sitting in the chair, her back leaning over the far arm and her legs crossed over the near one. Her eyes were closed, and her ears were slack and flushed. She looked perfectly beautiful with her dress riding up her legs, the creamy fur inside her thighs barely visible. The broad, contented smile on her face warmed my heart. I supposed I really had just made her come, albeit in the strangest manner I could think of.

"My Queen," I started, hesitantly.

Her head lolled up to face me groggily, her eyes opening only a fraction. I wanted to nuzzle her, take her into my arms and hold her forever. Instead, I continued, "Did you... finish?"

She giggled and spoke in a drunken-sounding voice, "Oh, you silly boy. I have most decidedly finished."

Lazily, she unfolded herself from the chair and stood before me. Her posture tightened as she bent down to pull up my hose, her hands roughly grabbing my rump to shift me so the garment could sit on my hips. She began to button the hose to my doublet.

Her next words were in her typical voice, "Now... as I was saying before you interrupted me, you are to go home and adjust your schedule in the manner I have directed. Have you understood or is your appetite for the carnal yet preventing you from comprehension?"

"N... no Your Highness. I understand you clearly." The whiplash from her abrupt change in tone had thrown me for a considerable loop.

"Very well. Good afternoon, Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora. I shall see you two days hence."

My heart leapt as she spoke my name, "Of course, Your Highness. I shall see you then."

________________

Chapter 4

When I returned to work after sleeping almost the entirety of the next day, it was as though nothing had changed, despite all the worrying and fretting I had done. I simply continued working with no input from the Queen outside of instructions and reporting successful completion of my tasks. A month passed, and I made no further mistakes. My anxiety had lessened, and the exhaustion was fading. I did find it somewhat hard to concentrate at times, especially during meals. Her enveloping scent clung to my memories. Sometimes when I would see her yawn or speak, I couldn't help but recall the globs of my semen flowing into her throat. Despite the moments in which I would slip into bawdy fantasies of her riding me into my chair or shoving my muzzle between her legs, I was more productive than before. We had reached some perplexing detente.

In the middle of one afternoon, she wandered in from the garden and paused just inside the office. She seemed to be in one of her trances. Her eyes were narrowed, and she turned to peer at me.

I was significantly more comfortable in her presence, so I wasn't struck with fear. Still, a sliver of unease nestled in my spine, "May I help you with anything, My Queen?"

"Yes, Inan ben-Hanat bat-Yora. It has been about a month now since our liaison on the table, has it not?" Her voice was far off, but she sounded like she had just remembered something important.

I felt my eyes bulge and my ears flush, "Uhm, yes, My Queen."

"Apologies. You must have been expecting some kind of reprise, what with how you males are. Fluid buildup and all that."

My stomach roiled with anticipation. I had been, but propriety dictated that I lie, even though I knew she would see through it, "Not at all, My Queen."

"Nonsense," she scoffed as she moved to the other door in the room, "Time moves much more quickly at my age. Oh well, as Mother always said: 'better late than never'."

I just stared at her as she let her hand rest on the door handle. "Come," she waved.

I scrambled from my chair to follow her. She pushed the door open into a much dimmer room, and I stepped through, closing it behind me. It was a shockingly modest galley kitchen. All of the fixtures were extraordinarily outdated consumer models. The washbasin contained a wok full of stagnant water flecked with oil and a small, somewhat stained bowl to its side. The cabinets were somewhat crudely painted in faded patterns of creeping, flowering vines, and the stone countertops had a speckling of crumbs and oil stains. There was no dust, however, and light filtered in from a skylight. A bouquet of the minty smelling herbs in an exceedingly ancient looking vase covered up most of the lingering smells of cooking.

She walked through the kitchen, her hand passing through the herbs, and she depressed some analog contact on the wall with a clack. Lights came on in the next room. I was filled with eagerness, as though I were entering some forbidden inner sanctum. I followed her through to find a bedroom that reminded me more of my own cell on the periphery of the Palace Complex than anything I would expect a Queen to sleep in.

Her bed was low, consisting of an intricately carved base stretched with ropes. The stowed, folded futons at the head looked somewhat lumpy but crisp and clean. Her pillows and duvet were similar. On the right of the bed was an open window with a deep sill lined with cushions, gauzy curtains blowing in with a breeze. The view beyond them was dominated by glowing afternoon light and the boughs of a flowering tree. The china cup and saucer I had seen her with only once before sat atop a stack of very old looking paperback books in the corner of the sill.

A sitting mat in front of a low table with a covered shrine and incense burner atop it occupied the wall opposite the bed. The only other furniture was an end table with a somewhat browning bouquet of her pink flowers on the right of the bed. The left wall had a simple door, presumably to the restroom.

She was unfolding the bedding as I stood in the doorway.

"These are your quarters?" I asked, unable to keep the bewilderment out of my voice.

"Yes," she said. She looked over her shoulder with a slight smile in a way that made my heart flutter. There was a wryness to her reply, "No doubt they fail to live up to your expectations."

"Yes, frankly."

She chuffed, "No, 'Your Majesty'? You're bold today."

I felt the need to push my luck, just for the chance to make her laugh again, "We are about to have sex, are we not? I should say boldness is in order."

This laugh was more throaty, a smile lingering in her voice, "How crude! Yes, something of that sort is about to happen." Her answer made my stomach turn, but seeing her laugh and smile warmed my insides.

She finished meticulously smoothing the futons and duvet and laid the pillows at the head. She continued with a sort of tired, matter of fact tone, "To answer your lingering question, I had these quarters built some centuries into my reign, about the time I had the Palace Complex built to handle the onerous bureaucracy I had created. By that time, the Summer Palace with its hundreds of rooms had grown boring beyond belief. And every corner was infested with memories..."

She stared off past the billowing curtains as she began to unfasten her jerkin. She had clearly slipped into one of her moods. I worried for her, but that worry couldn't push past my overriding desire to see her naked.

The Queen was turned at an angle to me, but I followed her hands hungrily as they made their way downwards one button at a time. I was dying to see her body. If the hints and glimpses I had been afforded were anything to go off of, she would be a masterpiece.

Apparently out of her reverie, she glanced at me and leered, "Take off your clothes." When she finished issuing her command, she turned to face me, holding the top of the jerkin closed. Slowly, she allowed it to part and continued to unbutton it. It took everything I had not to gape at the spill of plushy fur that erupted from its confines.

I untied my collar and began to unbutton my doublet as she shrugged off the jerkin. Without the overclothes and in the light from her side, I could see the outline of her figure. It was slight, but her waist was thin and gave her a subtle hourglass. Her rear was small and shapely, and her thighs were just as tantalizing as I had imagined. Her thin, embroidered silk shift was pushed out by her three pairs of pert breasts. The top pair was barely a handful, and they shrunk to small, pointed mounds just above where her navel should be. I was already starting to evert as I pushed down my doublet, skirt, and hose in one motion.

She undid a tie behind her neck and the shift fell from her.

Her ashen fur skirted the front of her torso which was covered in thick, cream-colored hair with small, pink nipples poking from behind the plush strands. Her mound was topped with a long tuft of gray that concealed where her full thighs met beneath her vulva.

Now that I had completed my task, I was free to gape. She stalked towards me, one finger alighting upon the pink nub emerging from between my legs. The touch almost made me cave in and fall.

"Eager boy," she teased, "How long you must have dreamt of this."

I couldn't speak as the finger traced where my thigh met my groin and continued further past my navel. It roughly grazed each of the three nipples on my left side, making me flinch and gasp.

"I can tell you are... suitably reverent towards your Queen now."

"Yes, My Queen," I choked.

She grabbed my wrist and guided me to sit on the bed beside her.

"Tell your Queen what you think of her."

"My Queen, you are perfect. I couldn't imagine a more beautiful woman."

She squeezed my growing eversion hard enough to make me grunt and double over, "I had thought I had trained the flattery out of you." Her voice was hard and her gaze icy. "Would you care to rephrase?"

I smiled at her devilishly. I was utterly enamored with her and feeling particularly cheeky, "No, My Queen. You are perfect, there is no woman more beautiful than you."

She squeezed again, another pained sound escaping me, but a demure little smile crossed her face. It made me want to lavish her with affection, but I was in a delicate position.

"You had better be telling the truth," came her bashful chiding.

"Can you not just read my mind?" I retorted teasingly.

Her fingers clamped around the stem of my now full eversion, "So very headstrong today. Even I am not above the sweet nothings of a pretty boy. Why should I spoil the fun when I could just as easily fish for compliments?"

I was too busy moaning to answer, a fact which she found endlessly amusing. She laughed as she held her fingers perfectly still against my slit.

"Tell me, which part of your Queen you would most like to touch?"

I couldn't think as my penis throbbed in her hand, an orgasm was fast approaching, "Why aren't you moving?"

"Answer me."

"Your breasts... My Queen." As I haltingly answered, I reached a hand towards the nearest breast to it, the lowest bud on her left side. She batted it aside.

"Then you may not touch them."

I let out a whine, "Why? Please?"

She ignored me, cooing as her hand stroked my stomach, "What a soft boy. You've not done a day's hard work in your life, have you?" Her eyes took me in hungrily, the movements of her hand greedy, covetous, "I adore your fur. So plushy and vibrant. And that gleaming white between your legs makes your penis look ever so inviting." She bit her lip as I felt her lustful scrutiny bore into me, "Such a pretty boy. How long you must preen over yourself..."

Her complements banished every thought from my mind, replacing them with a foggy, warm haze. I blushed, my ears heating, "Thank you, My Queen. Please... I'm so close."

"Oh, but last time you weren't ready this soon. Have you changed your tune?"

I nodded desperately.

She jerked her hand upward, sending the first, strongest bolt of pleasure through me along with a leak of semen that hung from the twitching end of my penis. Then her hand slid down to my slit and stayed there.

"What!" I protested, "Why did you stop?"

"Be still. You are altogether too hasty."

"No, you're too hasty and now you're torturing me," came my petulant whine.

Her gaze hardened, and she thrust two fingers from her other hand into my slit, just behind where my penis met my body. A harsh combination of pleasure and pain rocked me.

She rubbed the same spot afterwards, massaging my sore testicles just beneath the skin.

"They must be so full after me depriving you for such a time. I don't believe you've been consorting with every pretty young thing who lays her eyes upon you."

I shook my head with a whimper, now beyond thoughtless and submissive, focused entirely on My Queen. Even thinking of another woman seemed anathema to me.

Simultaneously, she pulled up on my penis and pressed into my perineum. To my surprise, a blob of semen ejected from my penis and landed some distance away on my stomach. Instead of a wave of warm comfort, it was a powerful, distracting stimulation.

"H... how?" I marveled.

Her eyes conveyed pity as she looked down at my increasingly reclined form, "I learned this when I was younger than you. There was this lovely older gentleman who came on several of my first expeditions." She pulled another rope out and onto my stomach together with a jolt of pleasure. She continued, her voice somewhat distant and pensive, "I think he and I both knew we were only together because I reminded him of his daughter and he had some complex surrounding that. I never paid it any mind then, but in retrospect, it is exciting..."

My disgust must have shown on my face despite her slow, steady pumping, because she gave me an arch look, "You don't approve of my taste? When you grow up a spoiled princess and become a functionally immortal queen, you develop interesting perspectives on sexuality. I should add that your predilections are unconventional to say the least. You seem enthralled by my peculiar brand of affection."

I had no way to answer as I had several of those odd mini-orgasms as she spoke, and she was right, and her highly atypical sexuality was nothing if not exciting. The fur on my stomach was matting as my first emissions were dying, and a small part of me fretted over how hard it would be to clean.

"You look so pretty with your lust written all over your stomach like that. Your lovely red fur all covered in white," she mused. Her gaze was warm as she tracked every flex of my member and every bead of semen that came from it.

"Oh what a shame. You are almost out. Here: finish."

She finally gave me a constant pressure on the base of my penis as her fingers dug into my testicles, shoving them against the bundle of nerves at the buried root of my penis. A final, drawn out wave of warmth drowned my senses, and I collapsed into a heaving mass on the bed.

"Good boy," she cooed, "It is such a pleasure to see you spent and exhausted by my hand."

I stared at the ceiling. I couldn't tell if I was the luckiest man in the world or if she would be the death of me.

Some indeterminate period of time passed as I floated in my afterglow before her voice snapped me from my fugue, "Come now, your Queen has use of you."

I sat up unsteadily and peered at her through sleepy eyes, "Yes, My Queen?"

"Pleasure me."

I looked askance at her, "Must I become some other grotesque insect?"

She actually blushed and looked away. Her voice was hesitant, "I wish for you to... use your tongue."

I was suddenly revitalized and I started to scramble onto all fours to push my snout into her groin. I would never turn down an offer such as that, much less from the woman I'd been fantasizing about doing just that to for a month.

She batted my nose and covered herself, "Slow down you brute! If I didn't know any better, I should think you'd never been with a woman before!"

She inched back against the head of the bed, carefully arranging her many pillows to form an ideal place for her to recline. When she was satisfied, she splayed her feet and slowly peeled her thighs apart. I was close to actually drooling.

Her groin was matted with arousal, the fur sticking to her thighs and skin to expose the flushed lips of her slit. I scampered between her legs, but I was arrested again by a hand and her closing thighs, "Be gentle, I said!"

She spread again, reluctantly, and I eased my muzzle towards her despite my every synapse begging to to rush in again. She had a pleasant, feminine, and distinctly sexual musk that mixed with the floral perfume she wore. I pushed her lips apart with two fingers, strands of her fluids breaking between them.

I heard her take a shuddering breath and paused to see her looking at me with a mix of fear and anticipation, "Is something wrong... My Queen?"

"No," she squeaked, "Proceed."

Stifling a laugh, I lapped from bottom to top of her slit. A strong shiver wracked her body and a small, high sound escaped her lips. I looked up at her from between her thighs, and she hid her gaze, "Stop looking at me like that, it's so lewd!"

I obliged her by burying my face and giving her slow, doting licks. She stopped shaking, but she gasped every time my tongue ran over her opening. Her taste was just like her smell, and I found myself enraptured.

Emboldened, I pushed my tongue into her vagina, and she moaned loudly and wantonly.

As my tongue snaked deeper, her sounds quieted but became more frequent. Soon, I found what I was searching for, and my tongue glanced against the firm nub of her clitoris on the front side of her vagina. She went stiff as a board, trapping my tongue painfully inside her.

"Ow! Ow! Let me go!" I lisped.

Her body relaxed with a shaky breath which allowed me to retrieve my tongue.

"What happened?" I asked.

Her ears were horizontal, her eyes were covered by her hands, and her nose was turned down so I couldn't see her mouth.

"My Queen, what's wrong?" The worry that had already seized my heart was seeping into my voice, and I placed a hand on her thigh. She flinched like she was shocked, and I withdrew my hand as if I had been burned.

The voice that came from her was hardly recognizable. It was a weak, plaintive sound, "Please don't stop."

My eyes became saucers a second time before I dove into her vagina with renewed aplomb. I probed her with my tongue until I found her clitoris again, trying to be as gentle as possible. She made a strained noise as she grabbed fistfuls of the duvet and sank into her pillows.

As I kept licking, she began to babble in some language I couldn't understand, her thighs' grip on my skull tightening. I looked up to see her eyes clenched shut and her ears flat against her head. Deciding to press my luck, I worked my hands under her, which lead to the discovery that her tail was beating beneath her. She cooed when I grabbed her firm, soft rump. Deeming that a satisfying reaction, I tugged her tail which made her twist with a squeak. I could've burst at how cute she was.

Her reactiveness and receptiveness encouraged me to test her front. I started by tweaking her lowest nipples.

"Oww!" the exclamation was drawn out and pitiful. I smiled into her vulva.

I moved up to her next pair, enveloping them in my hands and rubbing the nipples gently with my finger pads. She sighed and thrust her ribs into my hands. After giving them what I deemed appropriate attention, I grabbed her pert top breasts and kneaded them, enjoying their firmness and give. She moaned as I did so, her eyes opening to meet mine. Embarrassed, she closed them tighter and held her muzzle shut with both hands. I kept up my groping, trying to give each breast equal affection out of some misplaced sense of equanimity.

After what had only been a few minutes at most, I felt her start to buck against my tongue. Soon thereafter, she flushed with wetness and her opening clenched tight around me. As I wormed my tongue back out, I wished she had locked onto my penis instead of my tongue, and it ached in its partially everted state.

Muffled sounds issued from between her fingers as she held her snout shut and drew into herself, rocking back and forth. I was greatly pleased with myself, although this reaction seemed vastly disproportionate to my skill.

"My tongue isn't even tired," I said, "I can keep going if you think you can loosen u..."

She interrupted me by pouncing on me and shoving her nose into mine. Yet again, I gaped at her. Her nose was cold and wet as she nuzzled me. She grabbed me by the cheeks and pressed her forehead into mine and then rubbed our cheeks together in a flurry.

When she was exhausted with our nuzzling, she pulled me into a tight embrace. With a sigh, she let herself wordlessly collapse into the fetal position. I stared at her, stunned at the sudden and unprecedented affection. She looked adorable there: small, satisfied, and happy.

I felt a tendril of her probe into the back of my mind. It lacked the gravitas of her normal intrusions. It was a timid peek through an open door.

Please lay with me.

I lay down beside her, leaving a small space between us.

I need you to hold me.

"But I'm all sticky."

I don't care; it will wash out. I need to feel you against me. I need you.

I shuffled against her and wrapped an arm about her chest, breathing in her scent. My heart was light, some strange feeling in my chest almost making tears well in my eyes.

You are so warm.

She sighed contentedly.

...

I had been dozing with her for some period of time when I felt her tendril of consciousness call to me.

Inan?

My heart felt like it would pop hearing her call me by my given name.

"Yes, My Queen?"

Please, call me by my given name. The voice that came through my thoughts was like the meek words she had spoken against the pillows.

I was taken aback. I could hardly make the shape of the word with my mouth, "Yes, Migg?"

Saying her name almost made me choke up, and my heart wrenched in the most sublime way.

She sighed and backed against me, seeming to want to crawl deeper into me.

It has been so long...

I felt slight tremors coming from her.

I leaned over to look at her and saw tears running down her face. Fear froze me.

"Migg? What's wrong?"

They are good tears. Do not fear. Just... please keep holding me.

I obliged, and she cried herself out over a couple minutes. My heart broke for her, and I squeezed her tight.

Inan, have I been cruel to you?

I nuzzled the back of her head as I thought how to answer, and I decided to be honest, "Somewhat, yes."

I heard a choked sob escape her.

I am so sorry. There was a pause. I waited with bated breath for her to continue. For some time, I have felt that I and the billions whom I am charged to protect are not the same species. I do not feel like an Yvenn most of the time. Since you have arrived, I have been feeling more and more like one. I do not know how, but you make me Yvenn again.

She buried her head in her hands, more tears rocking her delicate frame.

I do not know how I could have treated you like that, especially when you have given me so priceless a gift. Can you forgive me? I understand if you cannot.

"Yes, I can. But please try to stop."

I will, I promise. But I think I may be somewhat mad.

I nuzzled her, "That's okay." Searching within myself, I found that it really was.

I felt the tendril leave my mind as unobtrusively as it entered. Its passage felt like a lingering touch almost reluctantly withdrawn.

After a couple more minutes of spooning, she shifted and groggily made her way to a sitting position.

"Would you like to bathe with me, Inan?" She spoke in a low, heavy voice as she looked at me over her shoulder, her eyes fully open but filled with deep pits of sorrow. I could hardly stand to see her like that, so I placed a hand on her shoulder and rubbed as I nuzzled her nose.

"Of course."

We stood, she making her way towards the kitchen and I heading for what I presumed to be the bathroom door.

"Come, it is this way," she said.

"Is it not here?" I asked, gesturing to the door.

She shook her head, "No, that is a powder room. I bathe in a fountain in the garden."

I flushed, "In public? Won't someone see?"

She gave me a small smile, "We are watched at all times here."

"Oh," I intoned, flushing deeper and reflexively covering myself.

She smiled a little broader, "Don't worry, I would know the moment any of my guards even considered discussing my private activities and the moment they took undue interest in my form." The smile took on a somewhat devious hint, "I must admit, I enjoy feeling their autonomic lust at times -- and their envy now. Several of them enjoy you very much. I can assure you, however, that they know better than to be untoward. And that they may not have you. Now, come."

I felt a mix of humiliation and pride wash over me that made me stand a little straighter at the same time as I tried and failed to hide the little nub escaping between my legs and all six of my nipples. Given how much had already taken place, I had few other recourses than to make peace with it.

Naked and unperturbed, she padded through the kitchen and into our office on her lithe, graceful legs. I followed, my embarrassment diminishing with exposure, as she waited for me at the archways to the garden, the hazy gray sky behind her. She took my hand and we walked together through the foliage and blooms. She lead from a half step ahead of me, occasionally glancing at me as if to gauge my reaction. The garden was stunning, but I rarely looked at anything but her. The paths were made of well-worn stone and they passed between exotic, sometimes eerily glowing flora from hundreds of planets. The trees and shrubs and elaborate flower plantings parted to reveal a small clearing ringed by thick flower bushes whose petals shone a faint, ethereal blue. At its center was a large, waist deep fountain done in fine mosaic. The water was lit by soft, orange lights and was crystal clear. In the arid climate of equatorial Yve, it was beyond decadent.

She led me by the hand to the rim of the fountain and stepped over and into it, looking like some water nymph from an ancient fresco. She was profoundly beautiful and erotic. The wavering orange glow lit her from beneath, drawing dramatic shadows on her legs and rump and casting the muscles on her back into stark relief. Her eyes looked like they were made of fire, shining from deep pits like jewels as she guided me to lay in the water beside her. It was lovely -- barely cool and very refreshing. She floated to a corner of the fountain and retrieved a wicker basket full of ornate glass bottles and brushes and combs. Wordlessly, we cleaned each other. I felt that our two years of working together had developed an unspoken communication that guided our hands as we painlessly worked out knots in our fur and washed off the evidence of our lovemaking. It was deeply satisfying to feel so in tune with her, our bodies moving in unison. It felt perfect.

Once we were bathed, I propped myself against the edge of the pool and opened my arms to beckon her to me. She slithered into my embrace and leaned her head into my chest. It felt right to hold her. My omnipresent, latent tension seeped from me as she settled into my body. She slackened, and slowly her eyes opened. They looked at me imploringly, and my breath caught. I saw love in them. It was in their softness; it filtered through her gaze. My insides fluttered. It was all I could do to fight off tears.

"You always smell lovely, Inan." her voice was small and sweet.

"You too, Migg," I answered, hoping my reply didn't sound too choked.

We smiled at each other, and I could've leapt for joy at how beautiful she looked.

She buried her head in my chest fluff again and closed her eyes, soft noises of contentment escaping her. After a few minutes of silence, she spoke again, "You recall how I said I thought I was mad?"

I nodded down at her. She was staring past me into the middle distance. Her eyes looked glassy, her voice far-off and unfocused. I could tell she was about to tell me about whatever darkness it was that had been shadowing us this evening. I squeezed her.

"I try so hard to be a good queen. When I ascended to the throne after Grandmother passed, I was so young, Inan. I was 52. I had to learn quickly how to stop being a stupid girl and be the queen of an interstellar federation. At that time, we were much more democratic." Her voice was laden with some sorrow I couldn't decipher as she intoned that last word, one I had only heard about when I learned about Den, our companion planet, in school.

She sighed, "And the Wars Inan... ancestors, the Wars. First those wretched Interlopers came for the first time. You could not imagine what it was like to see those worlds burn. Then there was the power vacuum left by the states they had razed. It was a chance to make us great and secure our people in perpetuity, and I seized it. I sent so many young Yvenn to die in foreign lands. So many innocent lives of other species were sundered by our fleets and soldiers at my orders."

Her words ceased for some time. I was riveted by what she was telling me, a knot of sympathy in my stomach. I knew I just had to let her speak at her own pace, so I stroked her head and ears and waited for her to continue.

"There was no end in sight, and the long wars had centralized our peaceful backwater confederation of priests and settlers into a force that could project power across the galaxy. But I saw so many rump states fracture in that time, their worlds left to rot on the vine after their charismatic demagogues died. I realized that I had backed myself and my people into that very same corner in my mad drive to keep them safe. And when I was meditating with the Conclave of Telepaths and we met that... entity and it offered me its boon, I felt I had to take it. The price of stability is blood, Inan, and I had made others pay it -- even now, millions die every day because of what I do. I concluded it was time to pay with my life, and I made that deal."

The pit of my stomach ached for her. I couldn't begin to understand what that would have been like, yet I wanted nothing more than to remove all her hurt. I couldn't do that, so I held her as we soaked together under the light of the stars and Den, now a hazy crescent in the low sky covered in the spiderweb of cities built by our reclusive siblings who dwelled there.

She waited longer to continue, "I try so hard to be good. And I have failed so often. And I know I will fail more because I will never die of old age. And that knowledge has chafed and eroded the Yvenn part of me. And that is so painful, so frustrating. Two halves of me, separated but always in pain. I think that is why I am cruel to you. You -- Inan -- you make me feel like an Yvenn, but you also make me want to be a bad ruler, to succumb to all the vice and sin that makes us what we are."

She crept up my chest, her fingers walking from my sternum up my neck to my chin. I was sucked into her enigmatic gaze. Excitement and fear and sorrow mingled in my brain. Her voice became a lascivious whisper in my ear, "Consider it, Inan:"

I felt her mind break down the walls of my consciousness, the force of her will shattering my hold on reality.

I could make you a saint. I could put statues of you in every village square, temples in your honor in every city.

I saw, clear as though it were before my eyes, my likeness in marble and onyx in millions of settlements across the High Kingdom, countless priests in their black habits proceeding in rows, censers swinging in clouds of incense, as they made their way to an altar in a temple, a monumental statue of me dominating the vast hall.

Your portrait could hang beside mine in every cubicle block, every temple, every government building.

I saw it: our state portraits facing each other in the vast cavern that was my old cubicle block where my friends still worked.

I could make you an icon of fertility, a symbol of male beauty. Women across the Kingdom would try in vain with their fingers to satisfy a desire only you could fulfil.

Images of scores of beautiful women swooning over me and masturbating as they called out my name filled my head. I was reeling, in shock. Arousal and confusion and a covetous, hideous pride swarmed in the disparate haze that was left of my ego

Every day, you could have a different woman selected from only the most beautiful in the Kingdom. If that doesn't suit you, I could have an audience chamber packed with nude women to worship you all hours of the day.

I felt enveloped by the smell of women and sex, deafened by lustful breath and the exclamations that came with lovemaking, overwhelmed by the sensation of a dozen skillful tongues working their way across every inch of my body. The only sensations I experienced were carnal in the extreme as they itched at my most primal urge to breed.

I could make you immortal.

Something beyond description swallowed me. A strange, unknowable force tugging at the small sliver of my ego that remained. I knew in an instant it was the entity Migg spoke of. And it was not a recollection, it was some infinitesimal fragment of that vast consciousness which beckoned me. It terrified me. Its desire for me was deeper than lust. Its unspeakable promises oozed like syrup into me. It wanted something, it needed something. I was supposed to think it a paltry thing. It would be so easy to acquiesce. It disgusted me. All of it disgusted me.

I shook my head desperately, trying to push that thing out of my mind. Migg sensed my distress and quickly blocked it, a wave of concern and soothing flowing from her to me.

"No," I shouted, still dazed and uneasy from what I had seen, "No, no, no! I don't want any of that!"

She stared up at me, doe-eyed.

My voice dropped to an urgent, earnest whisper, "You are enough. This is perfect. It is more than I ever could have asked for."

Her mind was still braided with my own, and it seemed to shrivel as I said this.

Her mouth hung agape, her wide eyes unwaveringly fixing me.

"You mean that..." she whispered it in a mix of surprise and shock.

"Of course I..."

She interrupted me by flinging herself into my chest, sobs escaping her and tears falling from her eyes. She wrapped her arms about my neck and gripped me tightly. She was laughing and crying at the same time, more incoherent babble in that unidentifiable language pouring from her mouth. She nuzzled furiously into my neck before she held me at arm's length and rubbed every inch of my face with her nose.

I was lost in her joy, my heart light as a feather as I laughed and cried with her.

We slowly petered out, our bodies intertwined.

"You love me," she intoned with wonder.

"Yes. I love you, Migg." Saying it felt like I had removed some immense weight I hadn't known I was carrying from my soul.

"Is it too hasty to say that I love you too, Inan?"

"Possibly for you, but I would say that two years of knowing someone is more than reasonable," I laughed.

She giggled, "I suppose my perception of time is distorted."

Her joy morphed into something bordering on desperation, the emotion showing in her face and in her voice, "I do not want to be alone tonight. Please stay."

A lump caught in my throat. "I don't either. I would love to stay."

She squeezed me tightly and nuzzled me emphatically, "Let's get dry then."

She splashed out of the fountain, her body dripping and her fur hanging in strands as she walked to a corner of the basin. She looked drowned and pitiable. Internally, I mused that this was probably the reason that we typically did not bathe like this.

She opened a hidden cabinet in the base of the fountain and retrieved some combs and a device. She switched it on with her hand in front of it, a whooshing of air coming from it. It was a hand dryer, an appliance typically associated either with vanity or laziness. It seemed perfectly in place here.

"Come, let me dry you."

________________

Chapter 5

I woke when a ray of golden light pierced the blinds and lanced into my eyes. I stirred and sought out a more comfortable position in the cushions. As I came to my senses, I realized that I could smell the Queen, and that I was not in my own bed. I opened my eyes to see the Queen -- Migg -- looking at me drowsily. The fur on one side of her head was matted from sleeping, her ear tufts were wild, and every other part of her body was frizzy. And she was stunning.

"Hello, love of mine," she yawned

I wasn't dreaming. The joy I felt at that realization could've killed.

"Good morning, my love."

She gently pressed her nose to mine and we embraced.

For some time, we held each other and drifted until I started. Migg seemed startled, "What's wrong, Inan?"

"We must work!"

She placed a hand on my chest and guided me back to the futons, "It can wait, darling. I haven't had this luxury in centuries. I intend to enjoy it. Speaking of..." Her words trailed off with a sly intonation.

Slowly, she slinked atop me, her breasts pressing into my chest, "I would like you to have me as a lover should. What do you say?"

"Aren't you insatiable?"

We both giggled as she nuzzled into my neck and I let out a soft sigh.

Slowly we nuzzled and rubbed against each other, taking in the soft music we made and enjoying each other's bodies. Gradually, my slit became wet and my eversion began to grow.

Her hands reached down to encourage it as mine searched for her breasts under the duvet and slipped between her thighs to coax out her wetness.

With a sigh, she slipped my mostly everted penis into her. I gasped as hot wetness gripped me.

"Wait!" I said, panic shattering my blissful haze of arousal, "I'm not safe!"

"Oh?" she asked, cocking her head as she ground against my pelvis, "When I was young, it was all the rage for boys to be on contraceptives."

Her nonchalance placated me some. I shrugged and continued, "I let it lapse because I was so exhausted. Then I somehow thought I would jinx it if I got on birth control, and I didn't believe I'd have cause to need it with you. Are you not worried? Can you not have children now?"

"No, I can. But I am currently infertile. Don't fret. Now isn't the time for that."

I deflated as the warm mood settled over me again. She continued to grind against me, the thicker base of my penis pushing into her. We both groaned in unison as it entered her. Reflexively, I started bucking my hips and flexing my member inside her. I could tell it hit her clitoris when she gasped and had to steady herself against the wall. As her pace increased, the duvet slipped down her torso and her breasts started to bounce softly.

Within the cavern made from our bodies and the covers, we moved as one. The same fluid understanding with which we had bathed each other and worked together translated to sex. It was soft, intimate, perfect. I had never felt its like.

I marveled at how easy it was to make her shake with pleasure, so much so that I asked, "How are you so sensitive?"

"Oh, Inan, it has been centuries since I've brought myself to orgasm with my body, and still more since I've done it with a man. I grew bored of it. This is... like new for me."

I was emboldened by her words, so much so that I redoubled my efforts to make her climax.

With a shiver, she loosed a lurid sound and I hilted myself in her. The opening of her vagina tensed with her orgasm and locked me within her. We continued moving together as we eased out her climax and drew mine from deep within me. It seeped into my nerves and mixed with the love I felt for her to become a deep euphoria. With a satisfaction I had never felt before, I started to ejaculate in her.

I felt our minds intertwine. She shared her orgasm with me. Hers was totally unlike mine with its satisfying fullness, the warmth and sensation blossoming in her core and blooming across her skin, the almost-pain that set her nerves ablaze. Both of our climaxes resonated against each other, intensifying and prolonging them well beyond reason.

As I bucked and she ground me into the bed, a steady flow of semen filled her and soft warmth suffused my body. Through our connection, I felt the heat accumulate within her, the fullness becoming more acute. Our minds relished the shared biological satisfaction. From within came my body's joy at breeding which echoed with her body's joy at being bred. She came again, her clenching sending a stronger wave of pleasure up my spine and another resonance bouncing between our psyches. We slowed down as her grip on the stem of my penis loosened and I expended myself deep within her.

She collapsed into me as trickles of our combined lust leaked into my slit. I nuzzled her shoulder as she rubbed my chest, completely spent and at ease.

After a few dazed moments lying in a heap, she sat up and back. Slowly, she withdrew from our coupling. My penis slid out of her with a lewd sound and a final flush of pearly fluid onto the bed. We both shuddered with pleasure as we watched the aftermath of our lovemaking land on the futon.

Migg's features morphed into dismay, "Oh no... I'll get a towel!" She bustled out of bed and into her powder room, returning with a terribly expensive looking embroidered silk hand towel. She dabbed the bed dry and then refolded it to swipe her vulva clean. When she came to my swiftly inverting member, she dabbed it and my slit gently, but the mixture of the rough embroidery and smooth silk made my still sensitive penis ache.

"Sorry!" she chirped as I flinched.

"No, no, thank you." It was still a struggle to be coherent.

She leaned into the powder room and left the towel somewhere within it.

She returned to the side of the bed looking blissfully exhausted. Her eyes looked me up and down as I lay there. "Would you care for some tea?" she asked in a sunny if drowsy voice.

Contentment suffused my very being. "Yes, may I help?"

She nodded.

Holding each other's hands, we went to the kitchen. I retrieved the tea powder and two spoons from the indicated cupboards as she boiled water in a kettle and grabbed her cup from the windowsill. She rinsed it and then stood on her tiptoes to reach into a cabinet. From it, she withdrew a matching cup and saucer which she placed beside its twin. It too had shattered and been reconstructed with shining metal. "These were Mother's and Father's." She smiled at me shyly and I embraced her. In a rush I wanted her to make me her husband and bear our children. She was so full of mystery. I never wanted to stop learning about her.

When the water was boiled and our tea was ready, she spoke softly, "Come, I will take you to my favorite spot."

I opened the door and walked into the office with Migg at my heels. We were both still naked and disheveled from sleep and our lovemaking, but her frizz made a luminous halo about her in the mid morning light. She was radiant.

I followed her through the gardens to a colonnade at the far side relative to the office. A stone bench faced out towards a vista of a deep, rust colored canyon and the monumental onyx structures of the Palace Complex beyond. Migg sat and patted the seat beside her. I sat down and looked out at a flock of birds flitting between patches of scrub in the craggy landscape and the pale, blue haze of Den floating in the sky.

She lay her head on my shoulder, and I lay mine atop hers. We fit together so well that it seemed to set everything right in the world. Except for one whisper, one thing that had been gnawing at me since the previous evening.

"Migg?" I asked, worry tugging at the back of my mind.

"Yes, darling?" she sat up and turned to me, her voice soft and loving, her eyes shining with a gentle concern.

"What will you do when I am no longer young and beautiful?"

"I will be here," she answered softly. The feeling in her eyes deepened into those captivating whirlwinds of emotion that they would become in her reveries.

"And when I am old and you are just as gorgeous and youthful as you are now?"

"I will care for you." Her gaze hardened. There was determination in her voice.

"And when I die and you keep living forever?"

"I will mourn you until the stars burn out."