AUTHOR'S NOTE: There is no official canon for Etheras. The story here does not preclude validity of other Etheras stories. Stories involving Etheras should be considered universes unto themselves with little or no carryover except for the character of Etheras himself. So please no "If this happened then how can Etheras have done this other thing?" Answer: Two different stories. Thanks!
* * *
Lord Summerland crossed his arms, drumming his fingers on his thick biceps as he gazed out the large circular window. Its tilting perspective provided an engrossing, if slightly unnerving floor-to-ceiling view of his planet far below. He tried to distract himself by admiring the elegant ring of construction platforms circling the planet. From this far out, the metallic band was so fine as to appear like a single thread of string floating like a halo above the equator of the planet... it was so graceful and delicate-looking, the distance and relative size to the planet it encircled belying the reality that the fine band was actually several miles wide and studded with beam cannons as a wide as a city block. But he was unable to look at it long before the impending meeting imposed itself on his consciousness. He glanced out past the construction platform ring to a shape beyond - the ominous arrival of the planet’s moon, dark and foreboding, blacking out the stars behind it - a shape identifiable only by the void that it created in the darkness. But it hid more than just stars: it hid the great threat. If he looked hard enough, he wondered, if he could make out their metal hulls glittering from under that shadow - the fleet of the Tyrant Etheras - a massive armada of robotic monstrosities and zealots that worshiped the fennec boy-prince as their god-king.
That’s what Lord Summerland was waiting for. This old space station, once a grand space-tourism hub that had now gone derelict from misuse, drifted on a lazy orbit far enough from both armies to act as a safe negotiation meeting area. Summerlane picked out his pocketwatch and glanced at its face. The fennec was late... but Summerlane expected this. It was a sign from the Fennec that he did not respect the planet Summerland and its governors... that they were an irrelevancy hardly worthy of his time, and so he made them wait. It was a sign of his contempt.
It was nearly an hour before Dela Fay’s drones swooped around the station, taking up a defensive orbit, painting and locking weapons onto Summerland’s own escorts in order to annihilate them at the slightest provocation, and then came the cruiser - large and sleek and white, with streamlined graceful curves. It was a horror of opulence with that milky white finish and those tasteful lines... a luxury-liner capable of turning a battlecruiser to slag, and several times the size of the station it docked-to. Summerland stared as its visage consumed the entirety of the portal window, blocking out his view of the planet below, the defensive rings, even the sun, as it cast a shadow over the conference room's window.
This was followed by the soft rumble and nudge of the heavy ship’s docking clamps fixing to the station’s. Summerland’s bodyguards made ready their weapons, but did not take cover. That would have been seen as a hostile act. Instead they moved to uneven intervals and extreme angles to the door, such that any attack would be unable to kill them all before they could take cover and return fire. The apprehension was palpable. Summerland felt himself sweating, and wanted to loosen the tall formal collar on the Imperial Navy jacket he wore, but he would endure the heat and tension in discomfort rather than appear disheveled and nervous before their adversary. He was representing the United Worlds, after all! So he wiped his equine brow with a handkerchief combed his mane back into place, and cursed slightly at the dampness under his arms, as he waited for them...
The pneumatic door hissed open, and in walked (if one can call it that) a column of mechanical monstrosities, heavy feet booming against the steel floors of the station, their black metal glistening on asymmetrical nightmare bodies. And after a moment, they let out a bass blast in chorus. That’s when he appeared: Etheras, beauty and terror of the stars. He walked in long confident strides, his effeminate body made even shaplier contrasted against his mechanical minions, his snow-white fur even brighter against the frame of their glossy black bodies around him, his organic grace so-fluid against their twitchy jerky unnatural mechanical movements.
Summerland couldn't believe what he was seeing. The stories were all true! The fennec boy seemed hardly of an age to vote, let alone rule half of the galaxy. His face was so effeminate and beautiful, and he hardly wore anything at all... only a purple cape of a severe cut, long gloves and thigh-high boots of a matching color, and that tall hat. He was very imposing, despite his small size, slender physique, and his lack of clothing. It was the seriousness of his face and the coldness of his eyes broached no wondering - this was about business. But Summerland couldn't help stealing an admiring glance down those smooth fit thighs - “dancer’s thighs” he thought, and the slimness of those sides with the slight effeminate flare of those hips, and the wonderful curve of his white-furred rump. His body looked like that of a girl’s, if it weren't for his obvious lack of mammaries, and the tasteful bulge in a tiny little nothing of a C-string that he was wearing.
Etheras cleared his throat and Summerland realized he was staring, “So, Lord Summerland, have you come to negotiate, or just to admire?” the fennec asked. Summerland was again surprised. There was a playful irony in that fennec’s high musical voice, as he posed with one of those slender gloved paws resting on an elegant hip.
Summerland swallowed softly and shook his head to clear it. “To negotiate, of course.”
“Pity...” said the fennec playfully, and sat in one of the large high-backed antique chairs at the foot of the table - closest to the door, and slouched back, placing his paws up on the table. This gave Summerland a glance at those perfect cheeks from below - and the tiny thread of cloth “flossing” between them was all that prevented his eyes from gaping at the boi’s treasures. Summerland quickly sat down at the table's head, both so that the tabletop would prevent him from viewing the buttocks of the exhibitionist fennec tyrant, to minimize the effects of the fox's tricks... and to hide the admission that those tricks were working..! His own erection having started to swell uncomfortably at the sight he had just witnessed.
The equine glanced at a guard who fetched a file folder and laid it on the table before him. Summerland already had all the contents memorized, but it gave him a moment to compose himself and think as he acted-out the charade. He cleared his throat and rifled through some papers, pretending he was looking for something. “May I ask.... what do you want with Summerland?”
“Conquest of course, my dear stallion. Subjugation. This universe is mine, and I’m simply reminding it of that fact.”
“Its not that you’re Summerland is in your way to take Terra from the United Worlds?” Summerland said hopefully.
Etheras shrugged, and rested his paws behind his head. “There’s that too. Terra belongs to me as well, and would be quite a lovely prize to put in my crown.”
Lord Summerland smiled, “Then... might I ask you to spare Summerland. If you were to bypass us, we promise not to molest your supply convoys and we would even allow you to establish a temporary base on our moon.”
Lord Etheras chuckled, “-My- moon, you mean... And you’ll hardly be capable of ‘molesting’ my supply routes once you have been assimilated into my empire.”
Summerland swallowed hard, “But.. but why? If Terra is the real prize...”
“The Galaxy is my prize, Sir Horsie. Everything that is, and everyone that is, belongs to me.”
“But... what I mean to say is... why risk Terra for Summerland? Compared to the Planet of Origins, we are a backwater planet. And yet, if you attack you will take heavy losses. We are not poorly defended. We have The Ring.”
“The Ring is nothing, Sir Summerland. I’m sure your advisers have told you as much already. It has a lot of very large beam weapons, but if we attack at a single point you will only be able to use a handful at a time. And such structures as planetary rings are inherently unstable. A couple well-placed nukes and the ring will not have the rigidness that it relies-upon to stay aloft. Without that rigidness, it will crash into the planet and wrought unbelievable carnage. These rings are for ship-building and asteroid defense. Against us they are more of a liability to your people than they are to my fleet.”
“And so you wish to inherit a destroyed world? With that ring crashing down, the ecosystem will fall into chaos, our manufacturing will be in ruins, as will-be our population. Is that what you want? Or do you want us to have the resources to help your conquest?”
This gave Etheras pause. “What are you suggesting?” he asked. “Is there a way you will surrender your world?”
Summerland stood up slowly again, his equine erection straining at the front of his pants. “How about a trade? I will give your Summerland, if I can have... you.”
Etheras laughed, it was high and musical... and cold. “Are you serious? You wouldn't know what to do with me...!”
“I can think of a few things...” Lord Summerland said as he blushed, feeling slightly humiliated.
Etheras studied his face. “Well.. you can’t have me.. at least not forever. How about... you get to have me as your diligent little courtesan for... a weekend.”
Summerland ground his teeth a little. He wanted that fennec... he wanted the fennec boy so bad that it hurt. He wanted to see that perfectly composed face in rapture, to melt the coldness in those eyes and see the fire of ecstasy. He wanted to bend the Lord of the Galaxy to his will... and over his bed...
“I agree. On one condition.” said the horse.
Etheras perked a large white ear. “We never said anything about conditions.”
“I know your practice of suppressing the personalities of those you conquer - making them into zealots or drones to do your bidding. But I also know that you leave some minds free...”
“*relatively* free,” Etheras corrected, looking unamused.. perhaps even a little bored, swishing his big bushy white tail into his lap and stroking it as he considered.
“... *relatively* free,” Summerland corrected. “I ask that you grant this to me and my people.”
“I will grant you this on one condition of my own. Criminals will still receive full mental conditioning.”
“Done.” said Summerland who reached out a large hand. Etheras slid his small elegant hand into his, and Summerland took it and placed a kiss on the back. “Pleasure doing business with you. Is this weekend good for you?”
Etheras gave him a level seductive stare, a grin playing on his dark moist lips. “I’ll be here.”
The weekend came quickly. Summerland set his crews to retooling the orbital ship platforms for building the AI-controlled ships of war that were the hallmark of the Fennec fleet. Armies of brainwashed troops were landing in dropships to ferry supplies from Summerland’s plentiful grain-belt. And engineers were designing the Mental Conditioning routine that would be applied to the public. Some of the population had even volunteered to be 'alpha subjects', and had joined the invasion fleet already.
There was a knock on the stateroom door. Lord Summerland swiveled an ear and wondered who it was. It was only Friday, after-all...
He opened it, and before him stood Etheras the Fennec, beauty of the stars, head-to-toe in a full-body stocking with beautiful lace flowers roped around the pattern, barely hiding his private places. Summerland stared, with a smile down that lithe sexy body and lead the boy inside. “My-my..! What is it that you’re wearing?”
“Its called a courtesan. I told you, I would be your courtesan...” he said with a giggle, and did a little spin. ‘Is this the same fennec as I met in the conference room earlier this week?’ Summerland asked himself as he reached down and embraced the slender fennec form to his large equine body, and kissed those luscious lips.
“Lovely...” Summerland remarked, “Now... How do I get you out of it?”
* * * *
Artwork is by: MoodyFerret Characters and story by: Etheras
The Courtesan body stocking is a real thing by Atsuko Miyawaki, which is what the picture is based-on.
If you like this image, you may want to check out some of the other pics MoodyFerret has done of Etheras in cute costumes:
