Page 8 of Heavy Petting

I pull away and reach for a beaker to spurt into, but my pleasure doesn’t wait. I grip the end of my cock, to stifle the jet of cum that bursts from it before I can aim into the glass collection vial. My swollen seed sac empties in pulsing rushes of fluid, and I groan in relief, while I leave my other hand to drip my first blasts of semen onto the floor.

I glance at Vah-nyah, so beautiful with her ass still in the air, the thick glass thermometer stretching her hole, and her dark curls coated in her arousal. Without thinking, I step close and smear my seed-soaked hand across her sex. “Mine,” I whisperto her, as if it’s a secret she’s not yet allowed to know. “Mine,” I repeat and push some of my seed inside her, rimming the entrance of her human cunt with my finger.

Her sex quivers back at me, as if saying,I know, and a naughty thrill runs down my spine.

A deep, forbidden bonding has begun.

6

VANYA

Istretch with a moan and slowly rouse from the heaviness of sleep, only to find myself floating naked in a pool of warm water. Am I dreaming?

A deep, soothing sound travels through me, as I drift between a dream and the waking world. A voice, calling me home. Not to the locked servants quarters in the cellar of my mistress’s manor house, but atruehome. A place where I belong — where I was always meant to be.

“Vah-nyah,” his soft, husky rumble murmurs, while a loving touch strokes my skin and gently pulls me through the water, so my hair floats out behind me.

“I’m coming,” I say, but my voice feels groggy and hard to bring forth from my throat. I try again, scared I won’t be heard. “I’m coming.” That voice is safety and wonder, and I don’t want to be left behind, alone and afraid. Not again. “Don’t leave without me.” I panic and hurry to chase the voice, but I can’t swim.

I sink and splutter, but big, strong arms grip me tight and lift me above the water. My splashing, flailing limbs are pinned against my sides, and drowning seems a very real threat, butdespite my inability to break free, my head remains above the water, where it’s beingheld.

Slowly, I’m turned to face my large monster hero. A series of strange images run through my head. A medical room. Being naked and unable to move or beg for more, while he pushed big, slippery things inside me, to make me feel full and wonderful while my pain faded away. I’m still naked, and I think my monster is too. Is this a bath?

He pulls me against him with a warm smile on his face. “Vah-nyah.” He practically purrs my name. He runs his hand over my wet hair and trails one clawed finger under my chin, to tilt my face toward his. He presses his lips to my forehead in a lingering kiss that makes me flush with heat all over. “Mo bre-shayspraah.”

I gaze up at him. What is it he said? Because it felt likeI love you. He’s the first being to ever make me believe such a thing is even possible, and I’m going to be very happy if he is my new master.

He continues to speak softly as he wades to the edge of the pool with me still in his arms. His legs feel strange, moving against mine in the water. Why? Does he have more than two?

I twist to look, but he chuckles, scoops me up out of the water, and sets me into some sort of seat with a bar over my lap, to help keep me inside it. He tilts it backward, to wet my hair in the water, and then rights it again, before squirting liquid soap into his hands. It smells of flowers and sunshine when he works my hair into a perfumed lather, and I almost moan with pleasure at how well his big hands massage my scalp.

His deep murmurings set me at ease, and satisfied he won’t let me drown, I relinquish my death grip on the chair and give in to his ministrations. He rinses my hair, and then begins washing my body. I’ve always done that myself, but when I reach for the soap, he firmly pushes my hand away. I try twice more, but whenhe fixes me with a warning look and gives a low growl, I stop and hold onto the back of the chair by my head, exposing my armpits so he can wash them.

He’s very thorough and leans in for a quick sniff and grunt of approval before moving on. He soaps my neck and collarbones, and then my other arm and armpit, before lathering both his hands and cleansing my breasts.

I think little of his intensive methods at first — understanding he must want me to be very clean so I don’t make his home dirty — but before long, I’m getting short of breath and feeling restless in my seat.

Nobody has touched me like he’s touching me. His hands massage, and his thumbs swirl. My nipples firm under the attention, and he rubs them, twisting them with slippery fingers as if to polish them to a bright shine. His eyes twinkle at me, and I know he’ll start washing some other part of me soon, but I don’t want him to stop. It’s like he’s found a secret pathway from my breasts to deep in my core, and lit it up with a hundred sparkles.

I grip the chair and squeeze my legs together, and he smiles. “En du, Spraah.” He releases my breasts and washes the water over me before soaping up my belly. He inches closer and closer to the curls of my sex, and my heart pounds so fast, I can’t distinguish a singular beat. It’s just a blur. A buzz. A thrum of anticipation, focused between my legs, where he made it feel so good when we were in the carriage.

His fingertips brush the seam of my crease, and I spread my legs for him willingly. He meets my gaze and rumbles in a way that makes my insidestingle. “Je mo en du, Spraah.” He walks his fingertips down through my curls and gently strokes the lips of my sex. I spread my legs farther, and his smile broadens.

He gets more soap and washes each of my legs, watching me closely. I giggle when he washes between my toes and tug my legaway from his tickling, but he holds me firmly and laughs until I begin screeching that I’m going to pee in his pool.

He stops immediately, rests his hand to my lower belly, and presses at my swollen bladder. “Pee?” he asks.

I blush and nod. I do have to go.

He releases the bar holding me in the chair, gathers me into his arms, and carries me out of the big, tiled bathing pool. He sets me on a nearby platform and then presents me with a chamber pot. “Pee,” he commands.

But my need to go has vanished, because the water isn’t hiding his body from me anymore, and he is a very large, verymalemonster. I was made to wash Wendell thrice a week, and his penis would always stiffen and grow, but he was human, and I am now looking at amonsterpenis, which is very hard not to notice. It’s easily twice as long as Wendell’s and at leastsix-times around. A big,fatcock.

My monster clears his throat, and I meet his amused gaze. “Pee,” he rumbles again in a tone that brooks no argument. I keep my eyes on him and lower myself over the chamber pot. He nods, and then we wait. And wait.

He turns on a nearby faucet, and the sound of running water hits me with its magical powers. My flow starts, and I blush under his attention. His smile makes him look so pleased, and I feel as if I’ve done something special and good, but how can that be?

It’s even more confusing when he reaches under the counter for a jar full of little crimson balls kept in a red liquid. He dips his fingers into the jar and pulls out what appears to be a small, sweet-smelling fruit. He holds the strange berry in front of my face, his fingers dripping red syrup.