Caveman Alien's Trap

by Calista Skye

  It's time to experiment. I pour some of the white clay powder into the first pot and stir it with a stick. It takes a good amount of the powder before it creates a paste that isn't too wet. The mix of powder and water has to be just right. But even when I get the balance right, the paste is too stringy. It's the fibers from the leaves that are still sticking together. I should try to get rid of the pulp from the leaves first. I have to find a way to strain them.

  My mood lifts a lot. This is working out much better than I'd thought it would.

  I saunter over to Xark'on's hole and peer down it. “Hey, warrior.”

  “Hey, woman.”

  “You work fast. How deep do you want it to get?” It's already where Xark'on, a man who's at least seven feet tall, can't reach the rim if he's standing on tiptoe. So it has to be ten feet deep or more.

  “About twice this. I want Troga to be falling fast when she meets the iron spikes pointing up to meet her.”

  “How will you get up?”

  He grins then climbs up the vertical side of the hole like a fly on a wall.

  “That's impressive,” I say when he's up and I can place a hand on his chest.

  “I’ve dug special holes in the dirt there,” he says and points. “Handholds.”

  I look up at his alien face, just because I like to look at my boyfriend, which he totally is now, unless he says he's not. And I'm not going to ask him and give him the chance. “It will only be a couple of days before you're done digging. Unless it rains. If it does, you have a nice pool there, but not a trap.”

  “I can only hope it won't rain before Troga is dead.”

  “Is that why you didn't start this right away, three seasons ago, when Troga first appeared? Because it was rainy season?”

  “No,” he says and looks away. “It just wasn't as important back then.”

  I lay my head against his chest again, feeling small and girly and still very, very safe. His slow heartbeat thunders in my ear, and I squeeze him. “I know you're doing this for your tribe. But you're also doing this for everyone who lives in the jungle. That dragon is just evil.”

  “Nobody survives falling into Troga's trench. I don't know if other tribes have that problem or if it's only mine. It doesn't matter to me. My tribe is my life.”

  “Is it?”

  He ponders it. “It was. Now, I'm not sure. These past days, my thoughts have been filled with other… things.”

  “Iron and swords and tools and hunting and painting,” I tease.

  “No! None of those. You. My tribe seems far away now. Unimportant. Only you fill my mind, and it confuses me.”

  “If it's any help, you fill my mind, too. But I don't think I'm as confused. At least not anymore.”

  He looks into my soul with the light from those violet eyes. “No?”

  “No. You called me 'my love'. That made me very happy.”

  We stand like that for a good while, and then I punch his massive chest. “Let’s catch us a dragon, warrior. Oh, wait.” I hand him the water sack. “Here, drink some water. More. More. Okay. Now, do you mind if I ruin the water sack? I want to put many small holes in it.”

  He gives me the only reaction possible. “Why?”

  But I don’t want to tell him, so I give him a sweet smile ,instead. “It’s a secret.”

  Then he shrugs and climbs back down into his hole. “Very well.”

  I get back to my pots and empty the leafy paste in one of them into another.

  I drink some water, myself, so it isn’t totally wasted then pour the rest into the empty pot and find a bush with spiky thorns. I take a thorn, sharpen it on a rock, and then proceed to poke it through the thin but tough not-sheep skin of the water sack. After a while, the thorn breaks, so I get another one and continue. It takes me a good while to make as many holes as I think I need. If I had some cloth, I wouldn’t need to do this, but actual fabric is hard to come by here on Xren. It’s almost as valuable as iron to the tribes, and I don’t think any caveman would approve of using any the way I intend to use this sack.

  I empty all the leafy paste into the pouch, add all the remaining water, and then squeeze it from the top, so the fluid comes out of the holes, but the fibers stay inside. I make sure to catch all the fluid in a pot.

  When I’m done, I have about half a pot of the fluid, and after a careful assessment that I pull out of my ass, I decide that it should be concentrated more. I rebuild the fire from yesterday and heat the fluid to where steam is coming up, but it isn’t boiling. I’m not sure why. It just seems to me that boiling it is unnecessarily brutal and could maybe ruin the result.

  I watch the fluid like a hawk, taking it out of the fire and putting it back in so it doesn’t reach the boiling point.

  23

  - Caroline -

  Then, I set it on the ground to cool off and wander around the clearing. I’ve heard some rustling in the bushes today, like some little animal is being busy with something. But I see no sign of it.

  Xark’on’s hole is in a well-chosen spot. Troga’s trench is close, and the surrounding terrain makes this a natural place for her to go if she comes out of it. There's a big tree right nearby which helps the spot look innocuous. The trap has to be covered, of course. A very believable cover, perfect camouflage that makes the ground right here seem harmless and even inviting… move some bushes so that this becomes the only way with open ground.

  I ponder it for a while. There’s a whole lot of weaknesses in this plan. First of all, you have to get her out of the trench and over the little ridge of bedrock. Will the dragon ever go outside the trench? Or will she just stop? I think you’d have to really tempt her.

  And once she’s over the ridge, won’t she just burn a new trench in the ground on this side, burning away the soil around the trap and thereby the trap, itself? For this to work, you have to really, really tempt her with something that’s so urgent she’ll throw caution to the wind, come out of her trench, and run across this ground, concentrating on something that she really wants, not looking too closely at the ground, and then plunging into the hole and onto the spikes.

  Of course, she’s not a real dragon, so the old myths about dragons on Earth shouldn’t guide me. She doesn’t have wings, and she doesn’t sleep on a heap of gold. As far as I know. But she does spew fire. And she comes from Bune. That makes her different.

  But yeah, this trap is probably the best chance to get rid of her. It’s also the only chance. Because if this somehow doesn’t work, she’ll never fall for any schemes again.

  The hours pass, and I collect some plants and herbs that I think we need now. A luckless not-sheep wanders into the clearing within throwing range of my spear, so now we have dinner for a couple of days, too.

  My mother would have fainted from shock if she saw me kill and gut as much as a sardine, much less an animal that looks so much like a cute sheep, we’ve named them after that. But Xren forces me so far out of my comfort zone; it feels like I’ll never have comfort again. And yet, here I am, gutting a not-sheep and finding it distasteful but not so horrific that it makes me weep bitterly like in the beginning.

  I wrap the meat and herbs in leaves and put them in the large bag and then check on my pot with the paste in it. It’s been concentrated much more, and it’s looking more promising than ever. Until now, I haven’t allowed myself to hope, but I think I can pretty safely look forward to when it’s done.

  I bury the pots again, just in time for Xark’on to toss his shovel out of the hole and then come climbing up.

  The mere sight of him makes my girly bits tingle. And the previous danger makes the tingles extra strong.

  After a day in the hole, he’s filthy. I take a big leaf and dust off his chest and back, noticing that the burns have healed completely. “Done for the day?”

  “For the day,” he agrees and wipes the grime off his face. “I think one more day of digging, and then I’ll forge the spikes. Then weave the cover. And then… everything else.”


  “Like a way to lure Troga out of her trench. Are you sure she will leave it?”

  “She has been seen outside of the trench. But rarely.”

  “It would take something special, huh? Something she’d really want.”

  “I have something in mind.”

  “You do? What?”

  “You have your secrets, I have mine,” he snaps.

  I frown. That sounded ominous. It’s the kind of thing that should be said with a wink and a smile, but Xark’on’s face has no mirth on it. Did I offend him with the water sack earlier?

  I think we need a change of topic. “Right. There is good news: You don’t need to go hunt today. I got us some dinner.” I point to the bag, which is now obviously full.

  He arches his eyebrows, wiping the moment of darkness off his face. “You have?”

  “A Small came walking and said, ‘Caroline, I need to be killed and gutted.’ So I said, ‘okay, fine, I’ll kill and gut you.’ And so I killed and gutted it.”

  He looks in the bag. “Hmm. Alien women have unknown talents. Did you use the stars?”

  “I used the spear. The stars scare me, Xark’on. I only have so many fingers.”

  He takes my hand and kisses it, dirt and blood stains and all. I think he regrets his short outburst. “Nothing must ever happen to these fingers. But the stars are more effective than the spear. There are three of them. They have much longer range. They’re more accurate. And you don’t have to walk around holding them all the time. Frees up one whole arm. I notice you only have two of them.”

  “Oh, do you have more arms? Let’s see. One, two. Okay, fine. Two and three quarters.” I point to his crotch. “You win.”

  His bulge doubles in size in about two seconds from even that little bit of attention.

  Xark’on scratches his chin. “That’s not strictly an arm.”

  “But it’s just as useful as one. More so, even. For me, I mean.”

  “And sometimes for me.” He puts his shovel onto his shoulders and checks that his sledgehammer is still in his belt then takes my hand, and we start walking.

  We get to the pond again and strip off then splash around for a while. I squint at the light from the setting sun reaching me from between the leaves in the thick canopy. I’m getting used to this routine. First, a day of productive work of a kind that’s not all about strictly survival, then a pleasant bath in the twilight with a huge, strong man I’ve fallen pretty hard for.

  Even if he is a caveman. Because he’s not at all a typical caveman. Back on Earth, he would be a renowned artist. Actually, he’d excel at anything he tried. Because it’s as if he has no ego. He takes instructions from me like it’s nothing. He must be the most coachable person in the universe, and he plainly has all the intelligence he needs. As well as the ability to work hard for hours, even at soul-crushing things like digging a hole.

  That combination would take him as far as he wanted to go at anything he wanted. Imagine a guy like this playing in the NFL! Gods, he’d be a whole team all by himself.

  He’s bent over to clean off his face, and I give his ass a friendly slap like I’ve seen the football players do on television. It’s like slapping a piece of wood. “Now, warrior. Let’s practice your swimming. Don’t want you to forget how.”

  He straightens, and I doubt he felt my slap as anything other than a gentle caress. “Very well. Then you can practice your throwing stars afterwards.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see. Okay, swim to the other shore.”

  He does a passable breaststroke, and my pussy is tingle city from seeing his huge, athletic shape make its naked way through the water.

  He turns and comes back. “I seem to remember how to do it.”

  “You do,” I agree. “Except a little slower today. Turn around and float on your back. A-ha! Just as I thought.”

  His cock is at full hardness and sticks out of the water like an exotic pole I could tie an alien tanker ship to. That has to slow him down when he’s swimming.

  I grab it with both hands while Xark’on floats there. “This is making you go slower. Can’t you make it soft again?”

  “I can,” he says, trying to stay afloat. “But it’s a process that requires your help.”

  “Anything I can do, warrior.”

  He finds the bottom with his feet and stands up, water splashing down his body. “Then please go ashore and place yourself on all fours.”

  I grin, and my pussy tingles in shameless arousal. “You liked that, huh?”

  “It was pleasant,” he says modestly, but his cock jerks so much, it slaps against the classic washboard muscles on his stomach.

  “Uh-huh. Let’s see if we can make it pleasant today, too.”

  I sashay ashore and find a suitable spot on the grass, then go down on my hands and knees and present my ass to my caveman, feeling deliciously slutty. I check myself for wetness—oh yeah. I’m soaked, and not just from the pond.

  He wastes no time in coming behind me and squeezing my hips, taking me in. The tip of his cock is rubbing against my ass, and then it’s at my pussy, sliding up and down the slit, lubing it up in a way that has to be instinctive, because I doubt his shaman had any clue about the finer points of this procedure. Or maybe he did. He sure knew about Worshipping.

  I groan as Xark’on’s cock slides into me. My pussy knows what to expect now, so the signals from there are not confused anymore, just greedy and overexcited. A thought flashes through my mind: how will any other guy ever measure up to this?

  My pussy is a warm, glowing part of me, and it spreads its heat to the rest of me as the alien caveman fucks me the way he does, calmly and carefully, making sure that every part of my sex gets all the attention it can handle. When he pushes into me, each spot is stretched, caressed, soothed, tickled, and made to feel like the most important part of me. And when he pulls out, I feel the same thing in reverse. So when he speeds up a little, it all melts together to a continuous heat, and I can no longer separate each little sensation.

  A little part of me thinks that we should have waited until we’re back in the treehouse, because there I can be as loud as I want. And I really want to be loud now, to let my intense joy in being fucked so well take over and just make me scream and moan and whimper in the way that feels most natural. But, I think, we can do this back in the treehouse, too. Why fuck just once today?

  And as soon as I think that, Xark’on speeds up even more, fucking me hard and fast, and then there’s that soft touch at my clit again, and then he’s fucking me to a hard orgasm as my pussy just gives in to the relentless onslaught of male sexual invasion and even aggression. An extremely welcome invasion and aggression. It makes me feel so taken, and I’ve needed that.

  I let myself fall into the orgasm, just letting it take its course, loving this whole experience and even loving Xren, the planet that has allowed me to feel this. For all its failings, it does have some rewards. I totally get the other girls now. I totally get why they can’t stay away from their caveman husbands. And it’s not just about the cocks.

  Xark’on grunts, and his cock jerks inside me, and our climaxes flow together as we become one, however briefly.

  I breathe heavily and lean my head on the ground. I could get used to this. I really, really could.

  I roll over and sit up, feeling the grass tickle my sore pussy.

  Xark’on sits behind me and cups my boobs in gentle hands. “Your body is miraculous.”

  I lean my head back to his chest. “Isn’t it, though? Yours, too, by the way. And I’m not just saying that. On Earth, you would be a sensation that every woman would fantasize about. If you were a pornstar. If not, only your wife would know.”

  “I can’t imagine your planet. Do you hunt the Smalls there, too?”

  “I don’t. Or didn’t. Some people do. Because they like it, not for the food. Well, some people do it for the food. Our Smalls usually live in large houses and are slaughtered when they’re big enough. We can go to the store and pick u
p the meat.”

  “Very mysterious.”

  “It is very different, certainly. But you’d get used to it in no time.”

  “Will you go back there?”

  “To Earth? I don’t think I can. And right now, I don’t want to.”

  He gently plays with my nipples, and of course, that makes me horny again. But now I want to go back to the treehouse where I can scream as much as I want.

  I get to my feet then gasp. “Oh no!”

  Xark’on is on his feet in a microsecond, grabbing my arm so he can shield me from any danger, scouting up and around, as tense as a bowstring. “What?”

  I hold out my other arm. “Look! It’s dirty again! See the grass stain? Now we have to take another bath!” I smile sweetly, starting to regret my silly joke.

  Xark’on frowns, and then his face turns stony. “I have had enough of your nonsense.”

  He takes hold of me with his strong arms.

  “I’m sorry,” I squeal, because if there’s one thing anyone should avoid on this planet, it’s pissing off a caveman.

  “I’m sure you are,” he growls into my ear and carries me to the edge of the water. Then, there’s a little glint in his eye before he tosses me easily ten feet into the air.

  My yelp turns to a very heartfelt scream as I fly through the air. I’ll land in the pond, but there are rocks in it, and most of it is not that deep!

  But I needn’t have worried. I land right in the deepest part, not very elegantly, but safely, with a huge splash.

  And in that same split second, Xark’on is there and holds me above the water, hooting with deep laughter. “You joke with the warrior, huh? I hope you learned your lesson.”

  I wipe the water from my face. “You’re terrible.”

  He’s still chuckling. “I know. You said it before. But it didn’t help. I’m still terrible. And you’re still a woman who likes to joke with a simple man.”

  I grab around his neck from behind and wrap my legs around his broad torso. “Warrior, if there’s something you’re not, it’s simple. Now carry me ashore. I’m as clean now as I’ll ever be.”