by C. Y. Croc
With his fragility, feeding him should be done so much slower, but I’m speeding up because I’ve noticed when my cooch keeps quivering every time the spoon goes to his mouth and I’m beginning to leak from it. I’m fidgeting trying to work out what it is. I’m certain I haven’t expelled body waste but my undergarment definitely feels wet.
As soon as he’s finished eating I smile and begin talking to him again, even though he can’t understand me, but I do it anyway because I think my communication is calming him. “I’m going to go and get some liquid in a bowl to clean you with.” His eyes study me intently but he doesn’t respond.
Outside, I grab a bowl and head for the hygiene area and as the bowl fills with warm liquid, I pull down my leg coverings and undergarments to examine what the wetness is that’s leaking from me.
My undergarment is covered in a slick clear substance and I screw up my face in disbelief, not understanding the reason for it. A breeze blows between my legs over my cooch and the exquisite feeling of it makes me tremble. I reach down between my legs and feel. The slick substance has now covered the entirety of my cooch. I run my fingers over it and they glide easily over my skin, which has now become highly sensitive to the touch down there. I gasp. I want to stay and explore some more but I must get back to the Human. With one last flutter of my fingers over my cooch, I reluctantly pull my clothing back up, grab a cloth and a tube of cleansing fluid and head back inside. I can feel my swollen cooch lips rubbing together as I walk.
I stand with the bowl in my hands at the male’s feet looking down at him lying there helpless and a feeling of dominance settles over me. He is my slave and I can do to him whatever I wish. My cooch trembles in agreement.
Placing the bowl down, I kneel by his hips and grab the bottom of the tunic he’s wearing, hands either side of it. It’s a stretchy cloth and one that should be easy enough to take off, so I shuffle it up over his stomach, up to his chest. I try not to let the look of surprise reach my face when I cast my eyes down. His stomach is a wall of muscle that would put any Kimanka male to shame.
I lift one of his huge arms to bend and push through the armhole of the tunic and considering his dehydrated state, I’m shocked at how heavy it weighs. I avoid his penetrating gaze and quickly do the same to the other arm, before swiftly pulling it up and over his head.
When I am done I place the tunic on the floor and gaze down at his exposed upper body in wonder. He has dark almost black hair across his chest and a small amount leading down over his stomach muscles to his umbilical hole and then it continues down further, under the waistband of his leg coverings. He even has it under his armpits.
His chest is wide and looks strong and I’m amazed to see he has two small nipples like the males of my clan. His breathing has steadily increased and it makes me wonder if he is nervous and if he trusts me.
I meet his dark eyes again and the look he gives me leaves me in no doubt that trust is the furthest thing from his mind right now. I quickly steal a glance at his crotch area and I’m not surprised this time to see the outline of his taja becoming more visible again.
I pick up the cloth and submerge it in the liquid and squeeze out the excess, then I begin at his brow and begin to wash his face avoiding looking at his heated glare as best I can as I wash over the bush of hairs that line the top of his eyes,
His nose is strong and slim and his cheekbones are far too sharp for a man his size, but I’m guessing they won’t be this prominent when he’s back to his normal healthy bulk. The cloth levitates to his lips, and although chapped and cracked from lack of moisture they are still a very alluring shape and the deepest of pinks.
Submerging the cloth back in the bowl, this time I add some cleansing fluid and continue the cleaning at his neck. I’m amazed that I’m able to see his pulse but I’m even more astonished at how fast it’s beating.
My hand drags the cloth down from his face far too quickly to his chest but that’s where the speed stops. I then begins to wash his huge pectoral muscles with deliberate slowness, and I purposely let one of my fingers fall off the cloth and trail along it over his skin, basking in the feel of the hairs that adorn it. My cooch twitches with the excitement of my elicit act and the twitching intensifies as I trail the cloth down over the ripple of his abdominals. But when I get to the band of his leg coverings it stops and trembles. His taja has grown in size again and is straining against his crotch, demanding freedom.
My breath hitches in my throat and I throw the cloth in the bowl and roll him over onto his side so that he’s looking away from me and I’m staring at his large back and colossal shoulders. I spy a small raised uneven circular scar on his waist and wonder how he got it, hoping the distraction will settle me, but it only adds to my fascination of him.
I try to silently take in deep breaths to calm down but I can hear that he doesn’t have that sort of control. His breaths come out loud and fast and I have to close my eyes and try to block them out because listening to them only adds to the increasing wetness between my legs.
I suck in one more breath, slower than before as I open my eyes and seek out the cloth again. This time I take my time cleaning his back hoping he will start to calm down. I think it begins to work because as I wash his back his breathing slows. I’m enjoying every indentation of his muscles but this time it’s like appreciating a fine piece of art. He’s heavier than I realised though, and before long I feel myself tiring and I have to slowly lower him back down.
The washing liquid is cloudy with his filth so I grab the bowl and stand, looking down at his face as I do so. The blackness has disappeared from his eyes and they are once again a deep brown colour. I don’t need to look at his taja to know it has softened.
“I need to go and get some clean liquid.” I don’t know why I keep talking to him. He can’t understand me, but maybe I’m doing it for my own comfort and sanity. “You coming maley?” But Bupple stays motionless by the male’s side. “Traitor!” I smile and head out to get some fresh liquid. This is the first time Bupple has taken to anyone else other than me.
Outside, I scan my property with a smile. Now I have the male, soon all jobs will be completed and everything will be prepared for the sinno season and the vicious winds it brings. The daylight is already beginning to falter and I still have to finish washing the Human and prepare him a proper bed on the floor before I even get to take my second shimmer.
Swiftly refilling the bowl I head back inside. Pausing in the doorway I realise what part of his body I’m about to wash and I swallow hard. This next part of the washing will be even more difficult than the first. I straighten my back suddenly remembering I am the master of my dwelling and now the master of him too—my slave. A male wouldn’t think twice about stripping a female slave in their possession so I must take on the same mind-set.
I stride into the room with as much authority as I can muster, place the bowl down, kneel at his feet and grab one of his foot coverings. As Kimankas don’t often wear such intricate foot coverings it takes me a moment to work out how to remove it, but I work out that I have to untie the small corded ties before I can yank off the first one. I frown surprised to find his foot adorned in a small cloth of material too so I pull that off as well.
Like his hands, his feet have five digits and unlike the Kimanka’s feet they are flat. I grab his ankle and hold his foot up in front of my face studying its weird design. How are Humans able to run at speed when their whole foot needs to make contact with the ground? I reach out and run my finger along the flat sole in awe. The Human tries weakly to pull it away and I swear he almost laughs. I draw my brow together, puzzled by the odd behaviour, and repeat the action with my finger. Again he tries to pull his foot away and a deep gravely noise that is unmistakably laughter comes from his throat. My lips curl up into a smile. So he’s ticklish.
I place that foot down, and quickly remove his other foot coverings, teasing him by holding my finger by the sole of his foot again. His eyes widen but I smile and
shake my head, indicating that I was just being mischievous.
Placing his foot down, I eye his crotch nervously. That’s where his fastenings are to take off his leg coverings.
Hesitantly I reach forward and begin to unbutton them. But to my astonishment and relief, his taja remains soft under my touch. Feeling a little more relaxed, I ease them down past his hips and down his long thick legs. They slide off with ease when I get to the ankles and I throw them on top of his tunic ready to be washed.
I pick up the cloth, squeeze it and apply more cleansing fluid, then I avert my eyes from his crotch area and begin at his feet, wiping on top at first before I try to attempt cleaning the soles. But just like when my finger made contact, his toes coil up as soon as the cloth touches them and he tries to pull his feet away from me. I hold them firmly, maintaining my dominance and stare at him with unrelenting hard eyes.
“Hey, in this dwelling I am the master, and you will let me do what I want to do!”
He stops struggling and just stares. I nod. “I’m glad we understand each other on that.”
I leave his feet, wash the cloth out and then start on his legs. They are long and lean and as heavy as felled logs from a bilsha tree. The same dark hair covers them, more at the lower part of the legs than the top, but then I notice the hair begins to get thicker again as they lead up to his crotch.
Looking from his crotch to his face I hesitate. He really needs to be cleaned all over. I have no idea how long he was in the custody of the Taraquets and I estimate that it’s going to be at least a few more doons if not a wid before he’s strong enough to walk to the shimmer on his own.
Why am I even trying to find reasons to convince myself why I should clean his genitals? I own him! I can clean them if I have to clean them. And if I want to clean them I will!
With my jaw set hard, I take hold of his undergarment and heave it down. His eyes widen and he tries to sit up but I place a hand on his chest and hold him down. “I’m sorry but this needs to happen. You’re filthy and your recovery could take anywhere from a few doons to a wid. As your new owner, it is my priority to make sure you are looked after and healthy.”
Well, that is ninety percent true in any case. Ten percent is for my own vested interest—my own sexual curiosity.
He lies back down, breaths in deeply and closes his eyes. That will make it slightly less awkward.
I finally get to examine what a Human taja looks like—in fact, what a taja looks like period! This is the first time I’ve ever seen one and my heart is threatening to jump clear out through my mouth it’s beating so hard.
I drop my eyes down to it but it takes me a moment of eye fluttering before I comprehend what I’m seeing. On a bed of jet black hair sits a thick organ, the same tan colour as his skin. It is entwined with veins and has appears to have a bulbous-shaped head that is larger than the shaft. Below it sits a pouch also scattered in the same hair. What could he possibly be storing in there? My mouth drops open in amazement and I’m eager and secretly excited to explore both organs further.
Picking my cloth back up out of the bowl I wring it out then stare at them. Where do I start? I decide to go for the taja and pick it up. The Human sucks in a deep breath and I watch his jaw lock tightly and begin ticking but my eyes are eager to get back to my exploration.
It’s so much softer than I’d thought it would be and I squeeze it slightly to feel its density. It instantly begins to slightly grow. I gasp in wonder as the handful of malleable organ becomes so much more than just a mere handful, it lengthens to almost twice its size in nodes, becoming heavier, fatter, and considerably more solid. I inspect the bulbous head that seems to have swollen the most and I’m astonished when I see a small slit at the end of it with a hole inside it.
The Human stifles a groan and draws me out of my trance. I’m spending far too much time examining it when I should be washing it. I wrap the cloth around the base and then begin to pull it up to the head and then back down again, firm enough to clean it well but not too hard to hurt him, and I continue to do this giving it a thorough wash.
I must admit I continue longer than I need to because the feel of it in my hand with just the thin cloth blocking my skin to skin contact is exquisite. I can feel every vein as I pull up and down the shaft, but best of all is the part where my hand just lifts up over the ridge of its head. It’s making my heart race and I can actually feel my cooch getting even wetter.
All of a sudden his whole body tenses and he makes a strange growl deep in his throat. I watch amazed as the hairy sack tightens and then clear liquid erupts from the bulbous head and squirts out over my hand and over his stomach.
I release the taja and back away. What have I done? I’ve injured him!
“I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you!”
The taja falls onto his stomach still engorged and solid and begins to twitch and lift up and down on its own accord as more of the liquid dribbles out of the hole in the slit.
I look at his face and his eyes are now half open and glassy, looking at me accusingly.
“I didn’t mean to do it....I’m-I’m really sorry. Let me kiss it better. That’s what my mother used to do if I hurt myself when I was a nip.”
His eyes widen in alarm as if he doesn’t want me to touch it but I grab it anyway. I just know a kiss there will make things all better.
I bring my head down to it and hesitate. Do I kiss the eye where the fluid came out from? It’s still wet and covered in it. Or do I kiss the whole thing? I have no clue where the pain is so I resort to starting at the base and working my way up.
This time I hold it more delicately without the cloth and I’m surprised by how hot it feels. My cooch twitches and I silently scold myself. The poor Human is in pain and I’m getting off by holding his injured taja, skin to skin in my hand.
Very gently I plant my first kiss at the base and I see his abdominal muscles flinch. “I’m sorry but I promise this will take all the pain away and will make it feel so much better in a mid.” It feels silky soft against my lips and I get a small thrill from my good deed.
I continue to reign down light, feathery kisses on it and slowly make my way along the shaft towards the head. The human seems to relax because I can see the tension leaving his muscles the higher up the shaft I go.
When I get to the slit hole and the liquid, I hesitate. Should I be putting my lips on it? What if it’s his blood? But then I remember how my mother used to kiss my grazed knee, even when blood was on it. My mind made up, I place my lips down on the slit and hold them there giving it a long slow kiss to make sure he feels the benefit of what a healing kiss can do.
I feel his taja move in my hands as it tenses and contracts but I hold firm, finally pulling away with a smile—my good deed done. I look at his face to see if he feels any better, absently licking away the leaked fluid from my lips. It tastes kind of nice.
His eyes are dark with desire and I’m instantly reminded of the frenzied look that takes over the males of the township clan as the females begin to change for the mating season.
I sit up abruptly as realisation washes over me as if I’m standing under the shimmer.
The females change when they reach a certain age as their bodies prepare them before they go into mating season. I had no idea what the changes were or at what age they occurred but I was sure I was well past that age. Still, I wonder if the way I’ve been feeling has anything to do with changing the way the full blooded Kimanka females do.
I scramble to my feet picking up the Human’s clothes and then turn to my bed and grab a blanket from off it. I throw it over him. Not for warmth because it is hot in here, it’s to cover up what just happened. I feel guilty that I hurt him after being in my care for just a couple of hincs. I need to get away to think. “I-I’m going to wash your clothes and then sort out somewhere for you to sleep. I won’t be long.” His eyes watch me keenly and follow me out of the room. I’m suddenly disgusted with myself.
3
Tex
What the hell just happened? A bed bath with benefits?
I don’t understand it; I’m now her property—a slave even, but she told me she wants to help me work back what I owe her to gain my freedom. Yet, she treats me like I’m a possession, to do with me as she pleases, by stripping me naked without my consent and then...molesting me. Then she acts all crazy by pretending she didn’t know I’d shoot my load and tries to cover it up thinking she’s hurt me. But what got me the most was when she acted all innocent and wanted to kiss it better, just like a mother from Earth would kiss an injury to make it better for her child. What the fuck?
I can’t deny it wasn’t as hot as hell though, and if I’d had the strength I don’t think I’d have tried to stop her either—at any point. Now she’s run off with my clothes and I’m stuck here, buck naked, and still covered in jizz.
My arms and my legs both attempted to move in that last little episode so I’m confident my full strength will return in the next day or two, especially if she keeps feeding me that same broth, it must be some type of superfood because within minutes of eating it I felt a small degree of revitalisation in my dehydrated and malnourished muscles.
With a belly full of food and my balls empty I feel the post ejaculation veil of sleepiness slide over me and moments later, even though my throat still hurts like a motherfucker, I actually fall into a peaceful and contented sleep, this time with a dream that gives me some rare happy images.
I’m in a family dwelling sitting around a table with a man and woman, but their features are still blurry. The man is the leader from my previous dream, but this time the familiarity is stronger, and I know without a doubt he is my father and the woman is my mother. And even though I’ve never been inside this building before I now recognise every item of furniture, know every nook and cranny. I even have memories of playing hide and seek throughout the place.
