I don’t know what to do. This female thing has unsettled me. It’s not food, like my father taught. She was with the bad ones, but she ran away. Does that make her good, I wonder?
I close my eyes and squeeze my hand over the tip of my cock. It feels so good that my entire body shudders, and the strange thrumming in my chest grows louder.
I wish my father were here.
He’s been dead for many, many seasons. I was a tiny kit when he died, and I’ve been alone ever since. Father always had answers, though. He would know why my chest is thrumming or why my cock aches around the female. A surge of loneliness sweeps over me. Sometimes I hate that I have no answers, only questions, and no one to ask.
I continue stroking my cock until it spits forth wetness, and my body finally relaxes. I watch her as I do it, and I tell myself it’s because I’m curious. Her chest seems to be thrumming along with mine, so whatever is causing this affects her, too. I wipe my wet hand in the dirt floor of the cave and then crawl toward the unconscious female.
My movements are stealthy, as if any moment she might wake up and attack me. She’s small and still, and I wonder if I’ve hurt her worse than I realized. For some reason, the thought stabs at me, and I lift her head, examining her skull. Underneath the reddish-gold floss of her mane, she has a lump, but otherwise seems to be fine. I press my cheek against her nose and feel her breath. Still alive. Her eyes are closed, her breathing even.
I feel guilty that I’ve hurt her. I shouldn’t have. She’s mine. But I panicked. I do have some pain root, though. It’s good for making blood clot up and she’s got a gash on her head. I set her down gently and head over to my herb bag and find the dried root. I chew it into a mash, then return to the female and daub it onto her head wound. She will be glad for it later.
I gently lay her back onto the ground, and as I do, I can’t help but stare at her. Her skin is speckled with a reddish brown dirt of some kind, and I rub at it absently. Her skin is different than mine – there’s no soft, light covering of fur. She is bare everywhere except her head and that feels…strange. It makes my cock hard again, but I ignore it. I can’t sit around and rub it all day. I notice that the spots don’t go away when I rub. They’re on her skin. It’s curious. I lick my thumb and rub at another, but it doesn’t move.
Strange creature.
I tug at the fur coverings, curious to see if this female is spotted everywhere. They fall open and reveal another lighter covering underneath, made of something similar to my waterskin. I pull it off and reveal more of the strange, pale skin with the spots on it. Her arms are smooth and soft, devoid of the thick plating mine have. I rub my arm, then touch hers. Very different. She is all softness, and it makes me think she is weak.
I’ve never seen anything like her. I tug at the leathers again and they fall open, revealing her teats. I draw back, surprised at the sight. They’re full and round, with pinkish-brown tips that point at the air. I touch one, curious to see if she’ll make that throaty sound like she did earlier.
But she’s silent, and I’m disappointed. My cock jerks and aches, desperate for another release. I ignore it and press my hand between her teats, where she is thrumming, just like me. Her chest is vibrating at the same speed as my own, which is curious. It’s like we are joined, somehow. Like our bodies have decided to sing a song together.
I like that.
I like looking at the female, too. I like her strange, spotted skin and her odd mane. I like her small, pretty teats and even her tiny, ugly face. She has no horns and no tail from what I can tell, but the scent of her is maddeningly delicious. I feel an odd need to lick her and find where the scent is coming from, but my cock throbs at the thought.
I’m not sure I like how out of control my body is at her presence. Frowning to myself, I replace her furs, hiding her teats from view, and move back to the other side of the cave. There are things I must do before I can go to sleep: there is water to be melted, cords to be braided for trap lines, and blades to be sharpened. I must eat, and I must check my pit traps.
There is no one to help, so I cannot sleep until things are done. As I pick up a bit of dried sinew, I crouch and watch the female from afar. I’m not leaving the cave, nor am I leaving her alone.
This female is mine, now. I’ve taken her from the bad ones. She belongs to me, and I’ll kill anything that tries to take her.
HARLOW
My head throbs fiercely, and the first thing I think is that the brain tumor’s come back. That the computer in the alien ship was wrong, and I’m not well after all. That I’m dying and these are my last moments.