A Virishian Day
----    The Diplomatic Corp of the Virishian Collectivity has prepared the following text as part of the efforts to strength mutual understanding and integrations of friendly people. Local committees individually produce similar texts on different colonies, to better adapt at different conditions. It may be based upon real event occurred to one or more comrades of the committees.       ----    
Many workers who have yet to fully embrace a more advanced society may find unusual the beginning of a standard Virishian day. Commonly, to wake up from a night of rest is a time of blurred senses, mixed with the realization of the incumbencies and the hardships of the tasks.  For a Virishian like me, to wake up it’s more like to feel a gradual sense of anticipation: our sleeping alcoves are specifically designed for this purpose. There are no noisy rumors or warnings to abruptly interrupt the last phase of sleep, but the warming-up system and density of the gelatinous substance embracing our bodies make for a calm and peaceful wake.
As every day, I let out only a small yawning, slipping out of the alcove, stretching a bit my neck before moving in my assigned room. The room isn’t “mine” of course, being a structure of the inhabited station where I spent the last forty cycles of life, many of my readers could be surprised by the relatively small amount of items that you could see. 
At the corner of my sleeping alcove, there is a small water dispenser. My kind make a careful use of water and not for cleaning:  our furred bodies would be dripping wet and wasting the precious liquid. The sleeping substance into the alcove has already an effective cleaning function.  
Without further delay, I took only a small cup to water few alien plants samplings I collected during my past diplomatic missions. My station’s botanic team took good care to check for possible damages due toxins or spores, but once I got the permission, I dedicated a section of the room to a small miniature greenhouse. I have talked once with a comrade specialized in psychoanalysis and he stressed that despite our social and cultural evolution, deep inside the Virishian race maintained an instinct love for the cultivation. That is obvious to me, because only a strict vegetarian diet can sustain our bodies. 
Once my little hobby was completed, I move one hand toward a white plastic shelf. Other races would call it modest, but that shelf indeed gathered all my “possessions”: the anachronistic concept of ownership can actually better described as nothing more than a collection of souvenirs. Items or gifts of particular importance are obviously shared with museums or libraries, but some of them have no other value that keep fresh in my memory episodes of the past. Leaving the shelf, I make few steps toward my room’s exit entering the wide central aisle. There is no door to unlock, because my people make no use of doors (except for storing frozen biological samples).  Every Virishian is free to enter “my” room, admire the exotic plants I was growing and take a look at whatever item they want observe on my shelf. 
Walking on the corridor, I found myself surrounded by the familiar warmth of dozens of my kind. Virishian are made to live in group: what was a primordial instinct, now it is rationalized and evolved with the growth and the development of our society. Our living space-station numbers sixty-thousand adult Virishian: a very small and young colony, compared to larger stations, colonial-ships or inhabited worlds.
Suddenly, the floor under my paws become transparent, when I moved to another section of the station. Visitors of other races could be amazed by the look of the self-automated irrigation and cultivation systems visible under us. Technology granted my people with a highly efficient system of growth of edible vegetables and fruits: the profession of farmer remains a top choice of many young Virishian. Farmers have no more to bear the hardship of the barbarian ages of our past history, where farmers worked for masters and struggled to their own subsistence. It is a work of dedication: providing choices and constant checks to implement the efficiency and the production of crops, machines and robots lack the improvisation needed for this task. 
A couple of minutes later, I reached huge dining hall where a Virishian worker could get the main daily  lunch. While my society rationalized the food production, compressing vegetable extracts in highly nutrient bars and mashes, we did not missed the value of variety, integrating the main dishes with exotic flavors or imported fruits from alien worlds. The meal is also a good moment to socialize, regardless the profession of each Virishian and its status as workers: each of it’s making his or her own contribution to the Collectivity.
I finished my meal relatively faster than my comrades did, but as usual there was no rush or accurate timing. No Virishian is expected to follow strict timetables, but there is hardly news of laziness: such isolated cases are seen and treated as psychological disorders out of some unusual stress and the most common cure is to doing a break from job. Most of the times, this is enough to bring a worker back on track because our nature and education are prompted to dedicate our daily routines to our works.

Reaching my room, I made use of the waste-collector at its proper corner (on the opposite side of the sleeping alcove): sanitary checks and a carefully planned diet make our bodies to take these needs only every few days and everything it’s quickly gathered by waste recycling system for the crops. 
As most of the civilized races, we Virishian have no shame for nudity: since the morning’s wakeup to the meal, commonly we keep no dress or suit, and make use of them just for the time of job. I quickly slip inside my body suit: it’s mostly a designed plastic cover for my body with the basic function to signal out my specific work’s subdivision. I gathered the few items necessary for my daily work, attaching them to a simple but efficient belt, and I moved back to the corridor with a renewed spirit.  

I will take less time to details the different tasks of my job. I need to stress however that despite the advanced status of our I.A. systems, the Virishian Collectivity make its use only as secondary to the committees’ works. I can only stress this point, working as a diplomat: many of my work hours are dedicated to program meetings and dialogues with newly found races (usual at more primitive stages of developments). There are countless of programs and algorithms, yet most of the times unpredictable events and unfamiliar conditions made for the necessity of direct old-fashioned planning.  
As every other day, I work until I feels satisfied with the outcome and once I realize keep working more would be less productive and more tiring for my body.

I went back to the dining hall to pick up a fruit as a little snack: our bodies doesn’t require extra food in addition to the highly efficient main meal at the beginning of the day. Munching the fruit, I wandered without a fixed purpose into the main corridor to ponder the possible places I could visit. The station offered lots of entertaining for off-duty Virishians: I could spend a couple of hours into the simulated reality rooms, recently they introduced new programs to experience the life and the biology of newly discovered sentient and not-sentient  races of twelve different systems. Another option could be to watch some old classic holographic movies into the dedicated rooms or spend some quiet hours reading in a library. While many advanced or semi-advanced races dropped the use of written text, Virishians still value it for the richness in creativity required from the reader to imagine a world or a story out of simple written words.

In the end, I decided to move on the large gym sections. While constant sanitary control and diet, usually make for a stable and healthy life, dedicating time to body exercise was highly advised. Once I reached the main room I quickly unzipped my suit and slipped out of it, placing it neatly folded nearby the machine I intended to use to strength my arms’ muscles. I was going to start a session of exercises when I spotted a sand-cream female Virishian who had finished her own session. She was slightly shorter than me, with neat patches of yellow fur on the belly and the chest. While usually our kind smells little (thanks to the hygienic sleeping alcoves), my nose could detect something of… spicy and alluring coming from her. I wasn’t the only one to have noticed it, but by random chance I was the closer male.

I stopped my session and left the machine, before walking behind her. “Do you mind?” I asked politely, one hand of mine gently moving on her slender hips. She replied with a warm smile, before leaning forward in a sultry pose, placing one arm against the machine. “Not at all, I never had cubs with your dark pelt before”. My penis was already erected, and I wasted no time: I penetrated the tight folds of her vaginal tract, sinking my organ inside her. Sparkles of pleasure pierced my brain, while my whole body acted on instinct, thrusting furiously and humping at high speed the smaller female. She was obviously biologically prepared to this, and her own body reacted with a series of moans of pleasures and begging, I could easily sense her flesh contracting and around my erected rod, attempting to quicken my release. My left hand moved up, to gently grope her modest breast and stroking the almost-invisible extra vestigial nipples buried under her soft fur, the other hand moved from her hips to the firm roundness of the rear. While our coupling was a show  of sexual dominance, it was pure casualty that followed such fashion, female Virishian, being equal to males, can show the very same style of dominance and sexual demands. 
My orgasm was impending, and I could sense the same for the cream-furred female: the pace of my thrusts become frantic, while I pushed on leg forward and she further bent her spine.
In a matter of seconds, my mind was clouded with a long-lasting pleasure, my body kept thrusting inside her but this time pumping load of my fertile cum inside one of her receptive wombs. I released her breast, and my hand moved lower to stroke her belly: I could sense a slightly bump of inflation, sign she was already in advanced stage of a pregnancy. I am no biologist or doctor, but usually when a female Virishian sprout this small tummy inflation because of a litter inside her, it means she is only few days before a scheduled birth.
Our biology was one of the keys of my race’s quick expansion in the known systems: this particular female while already pregnant with a litter of four to five cubs, is going to keep working as efficiently as ever until the last two-three days of the pregnancy. Healthy females can still have an estrus from one of the two secondary wombs despite being already pregnant, and in a couple of Virishian months this particular female is going to deliver painlessly another litter of cubs. I pulled out, some of our mixed fluids dripped on the floor, much more secured inside her. “That was good, comrade. Keep track one the archive, you humped me so hard that I got a feeling half of my next litter’s cubs will be from you.”
Deep inside me, I could not avoid a bit of pride.

Anachronistic sense of individualism? Possibly… but rationally speaking no Virishian feels jealousy to the breeding success of someone else, because our whole race has standard notorious quality of fertility and virility. Our mating clearly aroused some other males and females around us, two females (likely not on their estrus) begun to dedicate to each other’s with licks and fingers, while two males made a somewhat more rough show as one of the pair eagerly took the malehood of the comrade inside his body. Sexual practices of same-sex pairing are commonly widespread among all Virishian as a nice variation: male-to-male sex just require extra efforts at body cleaning, but my kind has long defeated any kind of sexual transmitted disease.

I recover my suit, and walk back to my room and after leaving my suit and the belt in their own shelf, I move a finger on a monitor to access the main digital network of the station (it has a recognition-system out of the blood’s DNA). Obviously, there are no private or secret recorded data: every activity it’s as open as the rest of our daily lives, almost casually I checked the current data off my profile and wonder how soon the number of offspring I sired is destined to grow.
Currently, I’ve 124 children spread on different worlds and stations: as good practice of civilized races, biological parents have no duty toward newborn cubs who are raised collectively by specialized personal. One thing that is cared about it’s to spread the offspring in different places separating direct full-siblings: while Virishians eliminated genetic diseases, inbreeding is avoided to prevent a resurgence of weak strains. 

I let my body fall on the sleeping alcove, crossing my arms behind the head and looking at the round small window showing me a glimpse of the open space. Our station was moving toward the next system, leaving behind two stable colonies and three planets with ongoing processes of terraforming. 
Deep inside me, I am content of my life: especially the work I did to help the local semi-civilized native race to understand how beneficial could be to live under the guidance of the Virishian Collectivity. They were in a middle-industrial age, with a degree of growing technology but maintaining a widespread capitalist exploitation of its own population and its own resources. I did my part in dialoguing with the different rival states of this race (some considered our presence an “invasion”), helping fueling a local war that wiped out a third of the population: the most ethical behavior, sparing centuries of wars and conflicts to boost their cultural evolution to a more civilized ultimate stage. The remains of their race will live on their own planet, as a local ethnic minority under protection of the thriving Collectivity.