Our Pet

by S M Matthews

  He holds up some strands of my hair, then mimes rubbing the still wrapped bar on my hair. Shampoo! I think it is anyway! I feel disgusting, and my hair is a total rat’s nest. If I was excited to see the brush, I’m practically bobbing on the spot now. He loads a few more things into my crate, does the follow gesture, then picks up the crate. I follow him up the stairs and back along the hall to the room where I slept the night before. He unpacks the crate, putting my clothes away, making sure I’m watching so I can see where everything is. He puts a couple of the towel/blankets over the chair, and the largest one he spreads across the bottom half of the bed. The toiletries he unpacks in the bathroom and I follow him. He presses a tile on the wall in the shower cubicle, and now I see it, this one is different to the ones around it, the same as the sink. He drags his fingertip across the tile, at one side, the tile is glowing a deep purple blue colour, at the other, it glows a hot orange. He taps the tile and it goes off, he looks at me and I nod enthusiastically, I get it. He taps the tile below and warm air blows noisily out. Oh wow, blow-dry too. He taps and it goes off, and I nod to him again. He takes the crate and points to himself, then into the room next door. “You’re going to wait for me?” I nod, I think I get it, and he goes out. The door shuts, but then I realise I won’t have anything except the dirty shirt. I go out and get a ‘dress’ and a belt and go back in. He sees what I’m doing and nods understanding. He’s setting himself up at the desk, and while I watch its surface tilts and lights up like a screen. He’s getting some work done.

  I go and have a shower. I think I must be in there for a good half an hour by the time I’ve shampooed and combed out my hair, and scrubbed myself raw. I have to sort of work my fingers between my neck and the collar, which isn’t great, but I’ll have to just deal. I use the hair bar as soap too and it seems to work well enough. I get dried and dressed it takes a bit of fiddling and folding to get the dress to sit right, but it looks OK. I brush my teeth very enthusiastically since I don’t know how long it’s been. The pill things spread out like normal toothpaste once it’s in my mouth, and it works pretty well. I think I might be able to get used to this.

  It occurs to me that I don’t currently have any other choice, but I try and squelch that train of thought. How many people get abducted by aliens? How many people get abducted and held prisoner by other people come to that? I mean you see it on the news, and so far I’ve been treated pretty well. It’s taking all my mental fortitude to come to terms with this, but things could be much, much worse.

  TARK

  I can hear the water running for ages, so I figure she knows what she’s doing. I check the lingual identifier, we’ve covered a surprising amount of words, but still nowhere near enough. I’ve run out of things on the ship, so we might have to identify images tomorrow. That’s fine, we can make it work. Maybe if I play videos, I might be able to get her to describe what she sees, that could be a way to get her to talk. By the end of tomorrow we might have made enough progress that I can start the translator going, it won’t work fully, that’ll take turns of conversation for the database to fully fill, but maybe enough that she will understand what we are working towards. And even some rudimentary communication will make things easier.

  I check the autopilot; we are following course as planned, and we still have several turns before we reach the station.

  I check the diagnostics, and see that Abner was logged as completing them earlier in the day. I send him a quick message saying thank you, he’s been doing my chores for me today without me even realising. I was expecting to have a late night to catch up on what I had neglected whilst spending time with Maisy.

  He’s also keeping me from a tongue lashing from Pate for neglecting my duties.

  Daisy emerges from the bathroom, and she looks...beautiful. Her hair, now it’s clean, has colours in it I couldn’t see before. Where I thought it was just an orangey cloud, I realise I was wrong, it’s shot through with dark reds and sparkling golds. She has caught the long thing she's wearing tight around the middle, and she has a shape I didn’t notice before either. Feminine, small and delicate, not like our females at all really. And she smells sweet and content. Like how I would feel when I smelled my mother’s baking, in a warm kitchen during the winter.

  I’m aware my mouth’s hanging open and a snap it shut, making her laugh. Making her even more lovely.

  A message pops up with a ping, distracting me back to the screen. It’s a reply from Abner saying he doesn’t mind helping...and that eve meal is ready. A guilty feeling washes over me, and I don’t really know why. I shake it off.

  I stand and put my crooked elbow out to Maisy, I don’t know what I’m expecting really, I’m just being playful. But she laughs, and then curtsies like one of our own women would when meeting royalty, and delicately places her hand on my elbow. I’m floored, her culture must, at least in some ways, have strong resemblances to ours. Both our gestures being recognised by the other so fluently. We walk like this down the hall, it’s bit awkward because of the width of the corridor, but she glances at me slyly, and then we are both laughing again as we squeeze through the door into the dining room. Abner and Pate are already eating and Abner’s jaw falls open, but I ignore them both and help Maisy into her seat, then bring her a plate of what we are eating, just to see. She wriggles to the edge of the chair and crosses her legs daintily. I pour her a drink and then get my own meal and join them. Abner’s still staring. Pate’s glaring so hard at his plate I’m amazed it doesn’t catch fire.

  “She looks much happier cleaned up and dressed properly,” Abner remarks.

  “Yeah, I think she is.” I watch her cautiously use her spoon to try things, but she soon tucks in and eats a good portion.

  “And the language?”

  “Oh, yeah, it’s going well, another day and we might have something workable. I’ll do a bit more this evening if she’s up to it.”

  “Tark,” Maisy, just about, says, I look to her. She gestures at herself, “Maisy” and then me “Tark” and on to Abner, and then just gestures at Pate. Oh. I haven't told her. “Pate” I say, and by the void, that’s the name she manages flawlessly. Pate looks at her, and I suddenly can’t say I have ever seen Pate fidget, but he is now. He almost wilts under her gaze. His ears twitch, his tails flick. I don’t know what to make of this at all. Suddenly he’s up, taking his drink and dinner with him, and he’s gone.

  I look at Abner, but he’s already looking at me, a bit stunned. Maisy’s tapping my arm and pointing after Pate, her distress unmistakeable.

  “It’s okay, he’s just grumpy,” I tell her, but she can’t understand. I pat her arm in what I hope is a soothing manner and shake my head. By the void, if Pate could get off the end of his own tails for just a turn and at least try to be nice.

  I have a feeling that’s too much to ask though.

  MAISY

  I have absolutely no idea what I just did. Tark is easy going, funny in a playful way. Abner is caring and gentle. I have no idea about Pate other than he looks like a mean giant. And I have apparently just desperately offended the one of the three that actually looks like he would eat me alive. Shit and Fuck.

  Not a lot I can do about it now though. The meal finishes, I have no idea what it was but most of it tasted OK. I left the leaves though; they had a bit of a bitter aftertaste that I didn’t like. Tark takes my plate away and brings me some of the slices that I really liked yesterday, I devour them, and even though he can’t understand me, I thank him. They have been talking to each other through the meal, and now I’m listening for it, I hear Pate’s name pop out once or twice. Hopefully they aren't discussing if he’d prefer me roasted or fried.

  I think I’m worrying over nothing though. At least, I really hope I am. They eat with knives and spoons. Off plates. And we are on a spaceship in the middle of who knows where. Logically they don’t strike me as the type to just eat things that they’ve washed and clothed and given their own room.

  Maybe...maybe I ca
n test this a bit. I wait for a lull in the conversation, and when it comes, I get Tark’s attention. When he’s looking at me I tug at the collar and do my best to look uncomfortable. Which isn’t that difficult, it’s a bit bulky, and it was not comfortable for sleeping in.

  Tark looks at Abner, who shrugs. He seems to study me for a minute, weighing something up. It suddenly occurs to me, it must have an actual purpose, not just a decoration you’d put on a pet, otherwise it wouldn’t matter if I wear it or not.

  Oh fuck me, it’s a shock collar. I am instantly certain of it, and I’m now genuinely worried he won’t take it off me. He must decide that it’ll be okay though, because he reaches round and does something that makes the collar fall away. It does indeed have a flashing light at the back of it.

  I am hugely relieved, and I rub at my neck where the collar had sat. I have to be logical; they didn’t know what I was. I could have been a dangerous unruly animal for all they knew.

  Or did they. I’m telling myself to be logical, but just because I’m pretty sure they weren’t involved in my abduction, doesn’t mean they weren't indirectly involved. What if I’d been on order? I’ve been assuming that I’m as foreign to them as they are to me but what if that’s not at all the case. What if I’m being stupidly naive. Tark seems to be making a concerted effort to learn my language...but what if that has purpose? Oh wow...what if this is the first step of a fully formed invasion? What if Pate actually does hate me; because they all do hate me really? Right, calm, I’m walking before I can run here. I’m pretty sure they are learning my language...but surely that will lead to communication? So, maybe I can find out if something sinister is going on. Or not as the case may be.

  Realistically, what the hell am I going to do about it either way?

  PATE

  Once the baggy shirt and the dirt was gone I could barely even look at it. Her.

  When we were still younger, and lived at home. Before our sister had left to go with her pack, we would sit on the grass at the back of our home. Near the treeline that edged the woodlands. They are my fondest memories; we were young enough that our differences had not yet caused any major issue. Our sister was wise enough by that point to know there would be upset over it, but it hadn’t come yet, and she was making the most of the time she had with her birth pack. She’d already started to show fondness towards the brothers she would eventually mate. We were still young then, though.

  When the shadows began to fall, and the darkness started to creep from the treeline, those damp spring evenings had a clear, fresh smell. They smelled wild and clean, and like the promise of summer.

  Maisy had smelled just like that, and I couldn’t stand how much I’d wanted to bury myself in her.

  I dumped the last of my dinner on the desk and stripped off on the way to the shower, my erections were being painfully pinched by my trousers. I get in the shower and use one hand to set the water going, the other already grasping my upper cock and falling into a familiar rhythm. Once I’m in the shower my other hand drops to my lower, just squeezing the head and working my thumb along the ridges just behind it. I try desperately to clear my mind, try and think of nothing, anything.

  Just not her.

  I can’t control it though, my thoughts keep going back to her, and I growl out my finish thinking about having my nose in that ridiculous frizz of red hair and my hand around her delicate throat.

  This is so wrong I can’t even articulate it.

  I have to get her off the ship.

  ABNER

  I know it’s getting late, and I can see she’s getting tired, but she seems more invested in doing this since Tark took the collar off at dinner. He left us a short while ago so I’ve carried on in his place, he’s gone for a quick shower and swore he’d be back with hot drinks before we turn in. Perhaps the collar coming off has built another level of trust. We have been looking at the screens for what feels like ages, pictures flicking by, naming what we see. Every now and then she won’t have a word for something, she will tell me with a shake of her head that she doesn’t recognise what she is seeing. Occasionally she will see something which makes her gasp, and she will turn and chitter away at me, obviously enraptured by some of the images. Perhaps her species are not spacefaring, or advanced as ours, and some of what she sees are wonders to her. It makes sense.

  The lights start to dim, the ship naturally cycling into night mode, and it starts to grow cooler. She physically starts to draw into herself, tucking up her hands and feet, but shows no indication that she wants to stop. I put my arms out to her and she hesitates. I wait. I have time. After a drawn-out moment she climbs straight from her chair into my lap, and curls up, Her head is resting against my chest, but still turned to see the screen, and we carry on. It’s a mindless task and we are both slowing with our responses, she’s getting quieter and I can feel her head nodding.

  It doesn’t feel long before she stops answering, and her breathing evens out and slows. I sit there in the dim lights, and find I very much enjoy having her there. The weight of her curled against me is comforting, and I realise this is probably the closest I’ve come to physical affection since we were last home and mother hugged me.

  This is different though. I can’t help but sniff the frizz that tickles my nose, she smells so familiar, and it tickles a memory that I can’t place. It’s a comforting smell, and I find I easily sink into it.

  My cocks start to grow hard under her, but I’m dressed, and they have nowhere to go, it rapidly becomes painful. I manage to stand and keep her cradled enough that she stirs but doesn’t wake. I walk her to her room and carefully put her on the bed, getting a blanket to put over her. I sit, and she moves closer to me in her sleep, probably seeking my warmth. I study her, sleeping there’s nothing to animate her small, smooth face. She is strange, but I am starting to consider her strangeness appealing.

  Tark finds me here, and he puts the tray with three drinks down on the desk, he brings two over and hands one to me, then sits on the other side of Maisy.

  He fans her hair back over the pillow and combs it softly with his claws. We sit quietly like this for a time, and I speculate about how Tark is feeling. Am I so lonely that any female is now attractive? What on earth would my brothers think of me, being aroused by a different species.

  Then Tark says something that makes me realise perhaps I am not alone with these feelings, “What would Pate make of this?”

  That is a very good question.

  TARK

  Eventually, we both leave her and go to our own beds, but the feeling of rightness was strong enough that I don’t think either of us wanted to leave her really.

  Pate will actually throw her out of an airlock if he finds out how attached I’m becoming to her. I was more than little bit surprised at finding Abner sat on her bed like that with her, watching. Maybe I’m not the only one becoming attached.

  When brother packs find a mate, they all feel the same. Obviously. Otherwise it wouldn’t work. I have often wondered though, when I’m back home, looking for a mate, if our differences would mean that we would also not all want the same female. I’ve always had the same dream, that I would find a beautiful mate, and bring her to my brothers. Abner would be instantly besotted and Pate would suddenly change into the most charming creature alive. Like magic. And that she would love us because of our differences, not despite of them. If a female showed interest in one but not all of us...that would break us as brothers. And also condemn us to being alone – why would any female take a lone brother when she can have the safety of three?

  But Maisy isn’t one of us. And we know nothing about her cultural norms.

  She might reproduce by pissing seeds. I snort to myself, no. The scans showed differences to our females, yes, but not a total incompatibility of reproductive organs. I shake out my mane, I have got to stop thinking about this or I’m going to need another shower. I’d left her with Abner under the guise of needing to clean up, but whilst I’d been standing under
the water, I hadn’t been able to take my thoughts away from Maisy, and it had been easy to imagine her standing in front of me in the shower. Imagine her hands on my cocks instead of my own.

  I think I am letting my imagination run way, way ahead of me.

  Let’s get her talking first.

  I hop back out of bed, overwhelmed with curiosity and bring the screen to life. I want to check how far they got with the language program. It looks pretty good, and it looks like she was talking while she was with Abner, not just naming pictures.

  I start setting the program to collate the data into something useable when a message pops up from Abner; “Can’t sleep either?”

  “Just working on a few things, I think we might be able to talk tomorrow”

  “Good” is all the reply I think I’m getting, but then another follows.

  “I really want to get to know her.”

  PATE

  We are all sat together for breakfast. Maisy’s there again and my cocks are so hard I’m surprised they haven't torn out of my trousers. It’s agony. I brought myself to finish three times last night and twice again this morning, but this just will not quit. That spring evening smell fills the room, and I’m gripping my spoon so hard it might well snap. She's wearing trousers that are rolled up to the knee, but very fitted. Her feet are still bare, as they have been the whole time she's been with us. I have seen other species which wear foot coverings as normal, and when traversing rough terrain even we sometimes wear protective feet coverings. We've never needed such things on the clean floors of the ship though. When she gets up to get a drink I have to bite back a groan, whatever the top is, it looked like it completely covered her, but when she turned I realised it was held together at the neck but otherwise completely open, just a small tie at the bottom stopped it from flapping. Her back is smooth and pale, the same as everywhere else I’d seen. There doesn’t seem to be any fur anywhere, except for the top of her head. She has skin like a prey animal; and the image of it criss-crossed with pale pink lines from my claws flashes unbidden into my head and this time a whimper does escape me.