To Care For Man Ch 07

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Disclaimer: All characters herein depicted are over the age of 18. I do not condone any abuse of any kind, and everything herein is just fantasy. Do not attempt to re-enact anything you read here. All BDSM activities should be Safe, Sane and Consensual. What I describe in my stories is varying degrees of abuse which make for wonderful fantasies, but would in reality be awful.

To quote Gigglinggoblin: Real-life con-noncon requires a lot of trust, safewords, and other things a fantasy can fudge a little. Enjoy the kink responsibly, and enjoy the story! If you feel inclined, please get in touch, I'd love to talk about my writing or any related kink stuff!

Summary: Aliens arrive on Earth, and promise world peace, and end to all problems, and more. Also, they're ten feet tall Goddesses who communicate telepathically. What could go wrong? They say all they want is for humanity to trust them and love them, and to care for man... but maybe their idea of love isn't quite the same as ours.

Contains: F/m, FF/m, FF/f, FFF/f, tickling, feet, aliens, huge mommy doms, like seriously ten feet tall absolute units of women, breastfeeding.

DARK THEMES: Brainwashing, gaslighting, end of the world, memory manipulation, ominous consequences, interrogation, trickery, rape, mind-rape, near-infantilisation, really really dark at the end.

***********

Lieutenant Avery retired. So had many other officers lately.

Even so, it came as something of a shock when Taylor received a letter. It was hand delivered by a man in uniform who seemed extremely on edge. Indeed, as he handed Taylor the letter, he couldn't take his eyes off the door. Taylor grinned abashedly when he realised a gaggle of Carers seemed to be admiring the newcomer with hungry eyes.

"I'm to give you this. I was ordered to hand deliver it to you and let no-one... especially no Carers take possession of it."

For a moment Taylor was confused, but read through the sealed document. It appeared to be using some kind of emergency documentation reserved for wartime. He chuckled - had things really gotten so ramshackle they were using stuff like this for routine correspondence?

"This has been our eighth attempt to..." blah blah blah. His finger traced, skimming over the words. "Under no circumstances allow the enemy... they are not to be trusted..." blah blah blah, so on and so forth, he wished they could just open with the important stuff. "You are hereby promoted to the rank of Lieutenant due to-"

Lieutenant? Had he just been given Avery's job? Thinking it over, he realised he was the only ranking member of personnel left, everyone else was either a fresh cadet or a civilian.

"You must immediately make every effort to disconnect your work from foreign influences..."

His eyes glazed over as the language became mired in security talk. Once upon a time he would have taken it more seriously, but now he was much more relaxed. With good reason, he told himself, the Carers were hardly an 'enemy'.

Taking out the insignia which made him a Lieutenant, he affixed it as best he could to his less-than-regulation attire. He now wore just a loose fitting shirt and slacks. Somehow regular clothing had become so uncomfortable to wear, as if his skin itself had become more sensitive.

"S-sir, I need to, um... may I leave sir?"

"Oh, uh..." Taylor looked up to realise the man was saluting him now, and he awkwardly returned it. "Of course. I'm sure the Carers can help you find your-"

"I'd rather leave of my own accord, sir. Is there... another way out?" The man looked back at the door as four giantess faces disappeared, psychic giggles emanating from behind the wall.

"Sorry, soldier, we don't exactly fit this place with escape ladders." Taylor joked, and pointed to the door.

The man, however, seemed distraught. He walked to the door, peeking around it in both directions, only to look back at Taylor who bemusedly waved.

Poor guy, Taylor mused to himself. He obviously must not have been around Carers very much. Several carers moved past his door, yet a few remained to stare at him when he wasn't looking, hungry smiles on their faces.

***

As it transpired, being a Lieutenant was very similar to his former rank. However, that may have had more to do with the Carers running most projects directly now.

The only difference as far as he could see was now he was the one receiving glowing progress reports rather than Avery. He would smile, sign them, and hand them back to whoever brought them.

He nearly jumped out of his skin, however, when a phone began to ring. Taylor had totally forgotten he had one, after all everybody he communicated with was either in the building... or telepathic.

Fumbling through the drawers, he pulled out an ancient corded phone.

Lifting the receiver, he mumbled, "Uhhh... hello?"

"Lieutenant Taylor?" A firm voice asked.

"Uh, yes... uh, sir?"

"Confirm Alpha Niner Echo Niner One Seven."

Blinking, Taylor took a moment to remember that he was supposed to be in the military, even if the organisation he belonged to no longer resembled one.

"Oh, uh, yeah... right. Just a sec..."

He fished in his pockets for his wallet, and pulled out an ID card which featured a face he barely recognised from when he had first signed up. It was lucky he still had it.

Sliding it through the phone he read out the corresponding security code.

"Right, uhhh... Seven... Alpha... Three?"

"Okay... confirmed. Taylor, you need to listen carefully. Lieutenant Avery hasn't been seen in some time."

"Oh, Avery? He retired, sir. He and Carer Mataya, uh... they..."

"Taylor I don't know what you've heard, but you need to listen to me."

Harsh barking in the background clouded the line for a moment. He winced, trying to listen through the static. What was that sound? Had that been... gunfire?

"You are to evacuate your department. Take all enlisted personnel and move to the following coordinates. Your ID will allow you entry into-"

The line went dead.

"Hello? What the..." Taylor murmured, before shaking the handset a little.

"Who was that, sweetie?" Angela asked, hand on the desk in front of him.

"I... I don't know. Someone who had access to... uhh, our security channels."

"Ohhh, well I'm sure it can't have been that important."

"They sounded... I don't know, maybe I should call someone."

Angela just took his hand in hers.

"Let me guess, was it someone talking about evacuation?"

"Uh... yeah. How did you know?"

Taylor looked into her eyes for a moment, a chill making its way through him which he wasn't sure he liked.

"That prank caller has been calling our department for weeks. They think he got access to a code book somewhere and he's been trying to cause problems. Some radical xenophobic guy I bet. Poor thing, if only he could see how much good it has done your department working with Carers... maybe then he would understand that everything we Carers are doing is for the best."

Taylor grinned, and gripped her hand back.

"Don't worry, I doubt anybody will be bothering you from now on." Angela said sweetly, reaching down to kiss him as she dropped the phone line she had just disconnected back behind the curtains.

***

He knew Angela was right. There was nothing to worry about.

Some part of him just couldn't let go, though. Something about that voice on the phone...

Taylor felt something in his gut that he just couldn't shake. No matter how much TV he watched - Angela insisted that when she wasn't around he had to watch it, and good boys did as they were told - something just felt... wrong.

He wasn't sure why he was still worried. Indeed, every time he did feel worried, he felt a nice warm feeling overwhelming any cares he had - especially when Angela was around.

Then he had seen two Carers moving a trolley down the hallway and - despite everything - had let curiosity get the better of him. Perhaps it was a subconscious instinct from his training, but he simply couldn't help but follow them. Something about the way they moved just didn't feel right.

Casually, he followed, at a distance he felt certain he could at least have explained as just going in the same direction if they asked. They went deeper and deeper, down two staircases before into a cargo elevator. As he followed hurriedly, stopping at each floor to see if the elevator had stopped, he realised they were heading for the basement.

Waiting around a corner, he watched, pretending to himself he wasn't spying and merely had a reason to be there, as they opened a locked door and entered inside. Only a minute went by before they left, trolley in tow. For a moment, he could have sworn one looked right at him, but as he ducked back behind the wall he didn't hear them stop. Indeed, when he got the courage to look back, they were simply smiling to each other - no doubt at something he couldn't hear in their telepathic communication.

Waiting until he was absolutely certain they were gone, Taylor crept down the hall. There was no reason he couldn't be down there, he reasoned. After all, the building did belong to the military... or at least, it once had.

Taylor managed to open it with ease, and slid his now-defunct ID card back into his wallet. The entire base had rid itself of any kind of security devices long ago in accordance with Carer Mataya's new guidelines, but even so, some doors were still locked the old fashioned way. His card may have been useless without any electronic locks to open, but it still worked to open a latch.

Inside was a store room that had once been a repository for filing things, but as the Carers had increasingly taken over, it had seen less use. Indeed, it had been long enough that everything had a fine layer of dust. Except, a year ago this room had been mostly empty. Now he wandered down the shelves and remarked at how every inch was stuffed with paperwork.

"What is all this?" He asked aloud, tracing a finger along the seemingly disorganised and random documentation.

A quick survey of the shelves showed hundreds, if not thousands of boxes, all stuffed full with paperwork. Doing the mental maths, he started to piece together just how much stuff was down here, hidden away on the shelves under lock and key.

Even if you emptied the entire department of paper it wouldn't have filled all these boxes...

Or would it?

His pace slowed to a stop as he looked back down the shelves, and carefully pulled out a box. Inside, with no rhyme or reason, were hundreds of pages. Sheet, loose leaf, notebook pages, notecards, even sticky notes.

It was the contents of someone's desk.

Starting at the top, he began to read it over. The first few handfuls were fairly mundane. Obviously pre-Carer arrival stuff. Then a red folder emerged, one he recognised as the same debrief he'd received as they had begun the translation project.

This one said decryption, though. Had his once said the same? It was hard to recall.

Translation, decryption, those were just words, his mind soothed... but as he read on, his concerns only grew.

Dangers, warnings, security briefs. New protocols being put in place which, distantly, he remembered once adhering to... hadn't Carer Mataya changed all this? Oh wait, this was before she arrived... Then the paperwork became more Carer focused. He saw documents signed by Mataya, designed by Carers, more as he dug. Then the documentation got briefer, fewer in number, thinner in pagination, until... it stopped.

On the shelf below he found dozens and dozens of old telephones, radios, all kinds of electronic equipment. Perhaps one of those phones was the same one from his desk.

He pulled out another box, and saw the same timeline emerge. High security, the Carers arrived, the Carers took over... and the work stopped.

Each box was the same until he found one that stood out. As he read on, he realised this person had been keeping personal notes in the margins. It started fairly simple.

"Aliens! OMG!"

But as he read on, they got more intricate. Conjecture about their language, and then some rather less professional language about Carer Mataya's appearance. As Taylor thought back to the first time he saw her, one memory that remained crystal clear for some reason, he could understand why their reaction all too well.

Then it grew more concerning. Talk of Carers taking over departments. People going missing. A list of names of people who hadn't returned to work, and as Taylor read over it, their faces seemed distant, foggy... but familiar. Had these people all worked there? Why had they never come back? Why... couldn't he remember them?

Shaking his head, he read on. Maybe this person was just... Well, he wasn't sure. Deluded? It didn't make any sense. The Carers were here to... well, to Care for Man. That was what they said...

That was what Angela had told him...

"Did you find what you're looking for?"

Taylor didn't look up. He didn't need to, to know it was her.

"What's going on?" Taylor asked, looking at the list of names, furrowing his brow as he attempted to recall any of their faces.

"You're down here in the basement, so I came to check on you-"

"I mean really, Angela? What's going on?" He asked, throat burning with the effort of trying not to cry.

"Look at me sweetie..."

"I don't want to."

"My sweet boy... Did you read something that upset you?"

Taylor wiped his eye with the notebook paper, and as he pulled it away, the names began to blur as his tears made the ink run.

"Why can't I remember them?"

"Remember who, sweetie?"

Angela was right behind him now. Her voice was the same, of course, at any distance, but he could feel her body radiating heat from just an inch away.

"You shouldn't be down here all by yourself. You have so much important work to do with me..."

"What work!?" He asked, throwing his hands into the air and showering himself with the notes of someone he couldn't remember. "Everything in my office is gone, probably down here in one of these... boxes."

He stared along the shelf and it truly began to sink in. Every box had been a person once. A member of his department. Some would have been his team members.

"Your department got downsized, honey, don't you remember?"

"Not... that's not..." he winced, trying to shut her voice out.

"Awww, is my good boy confused? Mommy knows a good way to take his mind off his worries..."

Her hand gripped his shoulder, but he tugged it away.

"Oh no... my sweet thing. All this stuff down here got you all mixed up. It's all just too much for a cute little boy like you..."

"No..." He forced his fingers into his ears, but knew it was no use. Her words rang out in his head, sidestepping any mental barriers as easily as she could brush his own hands aside.

"My sweet little boy... I think I know the problem..."

He stumbled down the shelves, knocking boxes askew as he went with his elbows as he kept his fingers in his ears, hoping he could somehow drown her out.

"My little boy must be all pent up. Mommy hasn't been milking him enough, I can see that now. Good boys get all confused when Mommy doesn't milk them... they start to get silly little ideas in their heads."

She took his wrists and swung him around.

"No!" He cried out, or tried to, as he was swiftly submerged in her breasts.

"I think my good little boy got all mixed up." She mused, speaking ever so gently, yet every word was like another weight tugging at him, making it harder and harder to get away. "He read some things that were a bit too much for him, and got all upset... but Mommy knows the best way to calm down her good boy... Mommy knows best."

She slowly stroked the back of his neck, kissing the top of his head as she spoke.

"Mommy always knows best."

His tears flowed into her silk-coated bosom, as she slowly parted her robes.

"Come to Mommy."

Sobbing, he collapsed against her, clinging to her as confusion between what he knew and what he'd just read warred in his head.

"You're just confused honey... but Mommy will help. Mommy will tell you what to think. She'll do the thinking for you from now on..."

For a while she just held him there, until she pulled him to her breast and without any hesitation he latched onto her nipple. Petting his head, she wrapped her robes around him, pinning him to her stomach, his head pressed to her breast firmly. Slowly she wound a sash around her waist, wrapping herself again and again until he was mummified against her, his body barely forming an outline against hers under the tight material.

Slowly, gently, she ran her hands across his body through the silk, and he felt his every nerve come alive. Thick, creamy milk coated his throat, and his Mommy gently petted his body, imprisoned against her within her alien garments.

He was vaguely aware, as her soft body jiggled, that they were moving. He soon stopped caring, though, as with every step her soft body shuddered slightly against him, and he was being rocked, gently and hypnotically within her fleshy prison.

Entirely submerged within the heat and scent of her body, he lost track of time. Though Taylor wasn't sure how long it took, he was certainly aware when his body began to react at last to his confines. His cock grew, tumescing vigorously as her warm, soft body pressed in all around him, and his cock pressed into her flesh in turn. Gradually as his cock leaked against her, her skin grew slick, and he eagerly rubbed himself against her sweat-and-precum-soaked stomach.

"Such a good boy, are you enjoying yourself? Is Mommy's good boy happy?" She cooed, and with his face submerged entirely into her breast, he was almost totally isolated and deprived from all sensation but her body and her voice.

"Mommy feels you rubbing against her... don't you wish you were inside Mommy? Would my good boy like to... fuck his Mommy?"

Immobile, barely able to rock his hips, he hoped the muffled squeal and shiver of his waist was answer enough.

"Awww, such a good boy... I can hear you, even if you can't answer me..."

She placed a hand against his lower back, and pressed him more firmly to her stomach, and he merely bucked his hips with all the more vigour.

"Soon, my good boy... soon you can fuck Mommy. I can't wait to feel you fuck your little mind away between my thighs..." She cooed, lovingly. "Although, that does give me an idea... how would my good boy like the next best thing?"

He felt his weight press against her as she came to a stop. Dimly he recognised she must have sat down.

"There we go... good boy..."

He felt her gently readjusting her clothing around him, and for a moment thought she might be freeing him.

"Is my good boy still thirsty? What am I saying... good boys are always thirsty for Mommy..."

He felt his stomach groaning, already so full from her seemingly endless supply of cream. She prised his face gently from her nipple - strings of saliva connecting him to it - and yet when she offered him the other he felt an immediate urge to suckle. Still, some part of him, a part not quite sure why anymore, resisted.

"Awww, now don't be fussy... good boys always drink..."

She rubbed her nipple against his lips insistently, tickling them awfully and making him want to part his lips if only to absolve the itching.

"Good boys do as they're told, Taylor..." She whispered, and he felt her thighs parting below. "Should I remind you how good it feels to be a good boy for Mommy?"

He exhaled, barely keeping his lips fastened shut at the prospect of what she was suggesting.