Kellen bit back a grin at Dr. Alvin Snow’s play-by-play of the xenophysiology demonstration currently spotlighted in the dim theater-style classroom. His hushed delivery called to mind one of those fascinating televised nature programs, where the khaki-clad host hid in the bushes with a microphone while two wild animals went at it, oblivious to the watchful lens of his camera. Only these particular animals were both perfectly cognizant of their audience and could hear and understand every word the man said. The female subject, a plump and greedy red-haired Terran whose pronounced facial grooves and silvery abdominal stretch marks proclaimed her well past the established age limit for reproductive service, grasped anxiously at Ensign Hastion’s flexing buttocks and whimpered for more. He gave it, pounding her without reservation, knowing as they all did that this female had already accommodated another Garathani soldier with ease. Her shout of approval tightened Kellen’s scrotum and he shallowed his breathing in an effort to relax it.
