FA+
Shop
2443
Views
Views
109
Favorites
Favorites
Category
All / Fat Furs
Species Vulpine (Other)
Size 2163 x 1704
File Size 2.46 MB
Report this content
★
More from Choice_D
Art by 
richmanwolf
"How could you do this to me?! After everything I've done for out-"
Click!
"With my trusty blade at my side, I vow to-"
Click!
"And I said 'Gooble de Gook?! That's my father's name!"
Denya chuckled softly along with the live audience. Not that he got the joke, given he'd only caught the tail end of it, but he was especially tired today, and the funny words were enough to force a chuckle out of him, which was enough for the dragon-fox to hesitate pressing the next button on the remote. Finally, something to watch.
Tossing the remote aside, the drox reached for his couch-side bowl of chips with both arms, yet only his right paw managed to grip it. He grunted, lunching again with his left arm, yet he could hardly stretch it past his chest before feeling his suit squish and dig into his side. Damn alien skin-tight suit, he grumbled to himself. Made of a bunch of weird, complex, impossible-to-comprehend material that was supposed to measure his vitals, yet what was truly vital to the hybrid was bringing those chips over!
A shame he couldn't even take it off. It wasn't designed to come off, after all. In a sense, he was in a prison of his own making.
Well, whatever. Even if it was a little ungainly, Denya could still bring the bowl over with only a single arm, despite said bowl being larger than his own head. It wasn't as though he was especially strong - hell, Denya didn't want to admit it, but he was actually a bit out of shape - rather, the gravity within the whole station was only about three quarters of what the drox was used to. It was amusing at first to be able to hop around in three-quarters of his own weight, but over time the lack of gravity simply made things cumbersome. How was his thick draconic tail supposed to be a counterweight if it was only three-fourths as effective, after all?
So, rather than stumble around like a drunk astronaut, Denya felt simply lounging around to be a better use of his time, exploring the 13 million or so TV shows while snacking on an equally-diverse set of chips. He just had to make sure none of the crumbs slipped into his suit; those were a real pain to pull out.
A sudden knocking at his door, however, caused the drox to crunch the chip in is paw, the remains scattering across his ample chest. Just great. "Come in," he growled, brushing the salty remains onto the spotless metal floor. Whatever, the service bot will clean those up soon.
His ears flickered as the doors 'whooshed' open, the hybrid making sure to turn up the volume of the television to compensate. Really, he would have liked to have cranked the volume high enough to completely drown out the sound of his visitors, but he learned by now that the fastest way to get them to leave is by complying. So, he didn't, and instead sat more upright as two invaders walked into his field of vision, blocking his view of the television.
"Please pardon our intrusion, Subject-J204-"
"Denya." Denya interjected.
The intruder continued. "We just came to make a quick assessment, is all."
The drox rolled his eyes. There was a time he was absolutely horrified of these aliens, where every 'quick assessment' was met with the hybrid cowering behind the couch or bed. After all, he saw how quick and powerful these creatures were, shrugging off his space station's defense measures with ease, knocking aside armed soldiers with just one flick of their many arms, while two of those were used to carry the poor, defenseless, temp-worker drox away. No, they were terrifying, and Denya had every right to fear for his life every time he looked up at those massive, boney faces.
But he barely even raised a brow at their presence anymore, his heart rate not even accelerating at the sight of them. Having grown accustomed to these creatures around him at all times, the drox began likening them to the stick bugs he'd seen on Earth; long spindly bodies, two arms and four arms, looking indistinguishable from Earth tree branches save for their much darker hue. And yet they sported hands that almost resembled Denya's own, albeit with longer fingers that ended at a point. Their heads, however, were more mantis-like; two antennae, mandibles, and two enormous, swiveling eyes. It was easy to assume at a glance that the two creatures before the hybrid were just mindless monsters looking to make him into a meal.
But no, these aliens were extremely intelligent. Hell, it was their scientists who invaded the space colony Denya was stationed at, who carried the drox away with a single arm. He did not want to see what their soldiers were like.
Even with his fear of these creatures subsiding, he knew better than to say no to them. As hospitable and accommodating as they have been, Denya was still their prisoner. Their subject, as they keep calling him. "Alright, then. Shoot." He grumbled, grabbing another pawful of chips.
The two aliens glanced at each other, then back to Denya. One had a light-brown mark on their forehead, the other was missing the tip of their mandible; Denya realized these weren't the usual aliens who monitored him, and thus spoke out before they could. "Isn't my next assessment not due for another three days?"
The marked one clicked its mandibles. "Yes, well, one could never be too careful with our subjects. We want to ensure you're as comfortable as can be."
"Uh huh."
The missing mandible insect's eyes glanced around, surveying the entire room except for Denya. If the hybrid didn't know any better, he'd say they were shy. "Has your translator been adequate, Subject-"
"Denya." His paw subconsciously went to his head, rubbing at the scar buried beneath his hair. "And it's working great. TV here is much more interesting when you can understand what they're saying."
"We noticed... you haven't left the couch in nine days."
"And is that a problem?" Denya raised a brow. "I'm not ruining whatever experiment you're running on me, am I?"
"No! No, no, no!" Eight sets of arms were raised defensively as brown-mark stumbled through his words. "You are welcome to spend your time here as you see fit!”
“And if it means conserving energy and consuming excess nutrients to store as more biomass, then so be it!” Missing-mandible’s eyes swiveled towards Denya’s midsection.
“However, given the brain waves your suit has been tracking, we noticed there were quite a few similarities with those who experience depression. We just wanted to check on you.”
Denya didn’t respond, having been munching on chips during their explanation. He did, however, pause with his mouth wide open and a fistful of snacks ready to go in upon hearing that. That was… an interesting assessment. “Am I depressed?” He asked, not even knowing himself.
Brown-spot tilted his head. “We aren’t sure ourselves. Of course, we could be entirely wrong, as signs of depression in our race could be completely different from yours. We literally evolved entire galaxies away from one another, after all.”
“Exactly!” Missing-Mandible nodded. “Such as how we developed a sturdy external carapace, and you developed a squishy protective layer of…something!”
“We’re still studying that.” Brown-spot stooped forward, and the drox felt himself tensing up a bit at the giant insectoid alien approaching his personal space. However, he allowed himself to relax a bit when he noticed the creature gently placing a hand atop his bloated belly, those long fingers squeezing softly into his bulk. “While this situation may be stressful, we want to emphasize that you’re not simply confined to your room. You’re free to use the entire facility. You’re welcome to join us for lunch as well at the cafeteria; the entire engineering team would love to meet you in person.”
That last line in particular brought a lot of questions to the drox’s mind. There was an entire team of engineers keeping track of him? They all wanted to meet him? There was a cafeteria? Was their food better than the fabricated ones here?
Also, who were these two aliens? Clearly they were not a part of the team assigned for whatever experiment he was a part of if they were acting this friendly towards him, right? Unless this was just another experiment and- gah, his head hurt!
Denya’s claws clinked against the bottom of the bowl, the hybrid startled to realize he’d eaten the entire bowl during their conversation. Shoot, that was supposed to last him until bedtime.
Brown-spot apparently noticed his dilemma, for he took the bowl from the chubby canine, setting it before the fabricator. “The decision is yours alone to make. We just… want you to feel more comfortable, is all.” He spoke up, loud enough to be heard over the droning of the machine spewing out identical chips.
“Yeah, yeah. I getcha.” Denya nodded. “I’ll, uh, consider it, I guess.”
“Excellent!” Missing-Mandible perked up, his many arms clasped together in glee. “Can we give you an evaluation?”
“What?”
“A physical assessment. Please?”
Denya’s brows furrowed. Since when had any of these aliens asked before performing an assessment on him? Sure, they had been polite about it, waiting for his consent before doing so, but this time it felt completely optional. “Uh, go ahead, I guess. I’m not getting up, though.”
“Excellent!” The drox watched as missing mandible practically lept to him, his many hands twitching in anticipation.
He quickly got the attention of Brown-spot, who practically shoved the bowl of chips into the hybrid’s doughy chest. “Wait! Don’t start without me!”
Denya rolled his green eyes. Weirdos. As was the case with many of his most recent inspections, the hefty hybrid remained seated as he peered past the two looming aliens towards the tv, focusing on the show instead. It was the same ordeal as usual, with him being poked and prodded by the insectoid creatures as they read whatever readings were posted on his suit, which usually involved shifting through a few of the folds that had been accumulating on his sides as of late. This time, however, the drox noticed a bit more hands-on assessing from these two, feeling his hefty stomach get lifted by their strong arms, and even one limb burying itself into the edge where his belly button lay, as though trying to get a feel for his softness.
Of course they were doing this for fun; even Denya could piece this together. But the two were surprisingly good company compared to just being alone by himself, eating himself into a food coma only to awaken to a similar process again and again. Damn, maybe he was a little depressed after all, and in actual need of company?
He shoved a fistful of chips into his maw, and continued watching his show. Sheesh, Brown-spot put a ton of salt in this batch.
richmanwolf "How could you do this to me?! After everything I've done for out-"
Click!
"With my trusty blade at my side, I vow to-"
Click!
"And I said 'Gooble de Gook?! That's my father's name!"
Denya chuckled softly along with the live audience. Not that he got the joke, given he'd only caught the tail end of it, but he was especially tired today, and the funny words were enough to force a chuckle out of him, which was enough for the dragon-fox to hesitate pressing the next button on the remote. Finally, something to watch.
Tossing the remote aside, the drox reached for his couch-side bowl of chips with both arms, yet only his right paw managed to grip it. He grunted, lunching again with his left arm, yet he could hardly stretch it past his chest before feeling his suit squish and dig into his side. Damn alien skin-tight suit, he grumbled to himself. Made of a bunch of weird, complex, impossible-to-comprehend material that was supposed to measure his vitals, yet what was truly vital to the hybrid was bringing those chips over!
A shame he couldn't even take it off. It wasn't designed to come off, after all. In a sense, he was in a prison of his own making.
Well, whatever. Even if it was a little ungainly, Denya could still bring the bowl over with only a single arm, despite said bowl being larger than his own head. It wasn't as though he was especially strong - hell, Denya didn't want to admit it, but he was actually a bit out of shape - rather, the gravity within the whole station was only about three quarters of what the drox was used to. It was amusing at first to be able to hop around in three-quarters of his own weight, but over time the lack of gravity simply made things cumbersome. How was his thick draconic tail supposed to be a counterweight if it was only three-fourths as effective, after all?
So, rather than stumble around like a drunk astronaut, Denya felt simply lounging around to be a better use of his time, exploring the 13 million or so TV shows while snacking on an equally-diverse set of chips. He just had to make sure none of the crumbs slipped into his suit; those were a real pain to pull out.
A sudden knocking at his door, however, caused the drox to crunch the chip in is paw, the remains scattering across his ample chest. Just great. "Come in," he growled, brushing the salty remains onto the spotless metal floor. Whatever, the service bot will clean those up soon.
His ears flickered as the doors 'whooshed' open, the hybrid making sure to turn up the volume of the television to compensate. Really, he would have liked to have cranked the volume high enough to completely drown out the sound of his visitors, but he learned by now that the fastest way to get them to leave is by complying. So, he didn't, and instead sat more upright as two invaders walked into his field of vision, blocking his view of the television.
"Please pardon our intrusion, Subject-J204-"
"Denya." Denya interjected.
The intruder continued. "We just came to make a quick assessment, is all."
The drox rolled his eyes. There was a time he was absolutely horrified of these aliens, where every 'quick assessment' was met with the hybrid cowering behind the couch or bed. After all, he saw how quick and powerful these creatures were, shrugging off his space station's defense measures with ease, knocking aside armed soldiers with just one flick of their many arms, while two of those were used to carry the poor, defenseless, temp-worker drox away. No, they were terrifying, and Denya had every right to fear for his life every time he looked up at those massive, boney faces.
But he barely even raised a brow at their presence anymore, his heart rate not even accelerating at the sight of them. Having grown accustomed to these creatures around him at all times, the drox began likening them to the stick bugs he'd seen on Earth; long spindly bodies, two arms and four arms, looking indistinguishable from Earth tree branches save for their much darker hue. And yet they sported hands that almost resembled Denya's own, albeit with longer fingers that ended at a point. Their heads, however, were more mantis-like; two antennae, mandibles, and two enormous, swiveling eyes. It was easy to assume at a glance that the two creatures before the hybrid were just mindless monsters looking to make him into a meal.
But no, these aliens were extremely intelligent. Hell, it was their scientists who invaded the space colony Denya was stationed at, who carried the drox away with a single arm. He did not want to see what their soldiers were like.
Even with his fear of these creatures subsiding, he knew better than to say no to them. As hospitable and accommodating as they have been, Denya was still their prisoner. Their subject, as they keep calling him. "Alright, then. Shoot." He grumbled, grabbing another pawful of chips.
The two aliens glanced at each other, then back to Denya. One had a light-brown mark on their forehead, the other was missing the tip of their mandible; Denya realized these weren't the usual aliens who monitored him, and thus spoke out before they could. "Isn't my next assessment not due for another three days?"
The marked one clicked its mandibles. "Yes, well, one could never be too careful with our subjects. We want to ensure you're as comfortable as can be."
"Uh huh."
The missing mandible insect's eyes glanced around, surveying the entire room except for Denya. If the hybrid didn't know any better, he'd say they were shy. "Has your translator been adequate, Subject-"
"Denya." His paw subconsciously went to his head, rubbing at the scar buried beneath his hair. "And it's working great. TV here is much more interesting when you can understand what they're saying."
"We noticed... you haven't left the couch in nine days."
"And is that a problem?" Denya raised a brow. "I'm not ruining whatever experiment you're running on me, am I?"
"No! No, no, no!" Eight sets of arms were raised defensively as brown-mark stumbled through his words. "You are welcome to spend your time here as you see fit!”
“And if it means conserving energy and consuming excess nutrients to store as more biomass, then so be it!” Missing-mandible’s eyes swiveled towards Denya’s midsection.
“However, given the brain waves your suit has been tracking, we noticed there were quite a few similarities with those who experience depression. We just wanted to check on you.”
Denya didn’t respond, having been munching on chips during their explanation. He did, however, pause with his mouth wide open and a fistful of snacks ready to go in upon hearing that. That was… an interesting assessment. “Am I depressed?” He asked, not even knowing himself.
Brown-spot tilted his head. “We aren’t sure ourselves. Of course, we could be entirely wrong, as signs of depression in our race could be completely different from yours. We literally evolved entire galaxies away from one another, after all.”
“Exactly!” Missing-Mandible nodded. “Such as how we developed a sturdy external carapace, and you developed a squishy protective layer of…something!”
“We’re still studying that.” Brown-spot stooped forward, and the drox felt himself tensing up a bit at the giant insectoid alien approaching his personal space. However, he allowed himself to relax a bit when he noticed the creature gently placing a hand atop his bloated belly, those long fingers squeezing softly into his bulk. “While this situation may be stressful, we want to emphasize that you’re not simply confined to your room. You’re free to use the entire facility. You’re welcome to join us for lunch as well at the cafeteria; the entire engineering team would love to meet you in person.”
That last line in particular brought a lot of questions to the drox’s mind. There was an entire team of engineers keeping track of him? They all wanted to meet him? There was a cafeteria? Was their food better than the fabricated ones here?
Also, who were these two aliens? Clearly they were not a part of the team assigned for whatever experiment he was a part of if they were acting this friendly towards him, right? Unless this was just another experiment and- gah, his head hurt!
Denya’s claws clinked against the bottom of the bowl, the hybrid startled to realize he’d eaten the entire bowl during their conversation. Shoot, that was supposed to last him until bedtime.
Brown-spot apparently noticed his dilemma, for he took the bowl from the chubby canine, setting it before the fabricator. “The decision is yours alone to make. We just… want you to feel more comfortable, is all.” He spoke up, loud enough to be heard over the droning of the machine spewing out identical chips.
“Yeah, yeah. I getcha.” Denya nodded. “I’ll, uh, consider it, I guess.”
“Excellent!” Missing-Mandible perked up, his many arms clasped together in glee. “Can we give you an evaluation?”
“What?”
“A physical assessment. Please?”
Denya’s brows furrowed. Since when had any of these aliens asked before performing an assessment on him? Sure, they had been polite about it, waiting for his consent before doing so, but this time it felt completely optional. “Uh, go ahead, I guess. I’m not getting up, though.”
“Excellent!” The drox watched as missing mandible practically lept to him, his many hands twitching in anticipation.
He quickly got the attention of Brown-spot, who practically shoved the bowl of chips into the hybrid’s doughy chest. “Wait! Don’t start without me!”
Denya rolled his green eyes. Weirdos. As was the case with many of his most recent inspections, the hefty hybrid remained seated as he peered past the two looming aliens towards the tv, focusing on the show instead. It was the same ordeal as usual, with him being poked and prodded by the insectoid creatures as they read whatever readings were posted on his suit, which usually involved shifting through a few of the folds that had been accumulating on his sides as of late. This time, however, the drox noticed a bit more hands-on assessing from these two, feeling his hefty stomach get lifted by their strong arms, and even one limb burying itself into the edge where his belly button lay, as though trying to get a feel for his softness.
Of course they were doing this for fun; even Denya could piece this together. But the two were surprisingly good company compared to just being alone by himself, eating himself into a food coma only to awaken to a similar process again and again. Damn, maybe he was a little depressed after all, and in actual need of company?
He shoved a fistful of chips into his maw, and continued watching his show. Sheesh, Brown-spot put a ton of salt in this batch.
Category All / Fat Furs
Species Vulpine (Other)
Size 2163 x 1704px
File Size 2.46 MB
Comments