This erotic story features anthropomorphic (furry) characters, intelligent humanoid beings with both animal and human characteristics.
"Consort To A Tribal Beast"
SHORT STORY
Beast-folk. The enigmatic animal people of the wilds. I had been fascinated by their kind for as long as I can remember. Growing up I recall documentaries produced by the few fortunate souls to spend time with them. Schoolbooks riddled with drawings of stick men with funny ears. College did nothing to temper my enthusiasm -- it only burned brighter than the brightest star as the years progressed. My first postgraduate work was conducted on the sociopolitical structures of their communities. My second: their speciation. My third did not yet have form, but its primordial ancestor swam the pathways of my grey matter, eager to evolve and shape itself to my long-standing desire. Was it an obsession? I suppose.
Is it still an obsession of mine?
Regrettably (or not)...yes, it is...
When I got the opportunity to make them my job, I leapt at the chance. A self-funded research trip into the remote wilderness, where no human had set foot in years...it was a dream come true.
I travelled far out into the corners of the world, tracking their migrations and hunting parties. I'd come across a tribe of cheetah-like beast-folk a few days ago. Preparation took over. I'd hid my means of transportation, covered my footprints, and doused my campfire -- all to conceal myself from their acute senses. Things went smoothly. By day nine I had completed a nifty crow's nest hanging from a sturdy bush willow, wreathed in camouflage so that those who pry were found wanting. I only left the tree to resupply with water and relieve myself. Thought I was being smart, but it seems I had been noticed.
Heading to the watering hole on day eleven, I was captured.
* * *
The chief's son was the only one to visit me. He enters now, curiosity drawing him in, to see the strange being his tribesmen captured. His light build was either a sign of his age, or ability. From what scant information I'd been able to glean from tribal chatter he was young enough. An adolescent. Yet his fellows spoke of him with such...reverence. To be that age, and so respected. Such power and responsibility already in the hands of a mere teenager. That was their way, I suppose. His father ruled, and he would too one day.
He approaches.
"Namaxo."
Namaxo.
If I remember correctly, that was a greeting. An informal one. I think I can piece together his words...
[Creature,] he speaks again, [father told me about you. The strange ape from the Far-Away.]
I avert my gaze. I know eye contact is a sign of equals among them, so best not to anger any of my captors.
[Look at me.]
Okay, seems he wants me to look.
I raise my head. My eyes follow the floor in front of me, travelling along the dusty matting. The cheetah's feet come into view. Sturdy foot-paws for a being adept at racing. I trace his humanoid figure. His legs hide powerful, bunched muscles. I've seen his kind dash. They are faster than any living thing I've seen -- it was how they caught me, running me down after I was spotted. He wears an unassuming cloth wrap, in plain colours, around his waist (I don't know if their culture holds any significance for clothing). His torso is slim, but taut, making his build more svelte than skinny. Same for his arms, leaner than some of the other beast-folk in his tribe. I can tell this makes him fast, and he is proud of that fact. My eyes fix upon his grinning feline face. Unkempt tufts of hair marred his otherwise smooth head-fur, almost deliberately. Great, this kid had attitude...
[Strange,] he mutters, his own eyes darting about my form. Well, seems he is admiring me as I admire him.
He bites his lip. Concentrating. Thinking. His face scrunches up.
[You are smooth. No, bald!] he laughs, placing his hands on his hips and adopting a more rested pose.
I try not to say anything.
[Where is your fur? Are you diseased? Did you shave it off?]
He comes closer. His orange fur decorated with black spots dances before me, undulating with the ebb and flow of motion over his body's surface area; a sea of mesmerising colour. I lean back slightly, creating more distance between us.
Suddenly he grasps at me, claws hitching on my clothes. He snarls and tears them away. My shirt is destroyed. He returns to looking, not touching. The teenage cheetah paces the tent, always staring. My captor's mood swings with the same frequency as his tail, swaying with each and every turn.
[Apes are known for their primitive ways. Uncouth, uncultured animals.]
If I heard him correctly, he's now insulting me. What a trip this turned out to be!
He stops. [But they are easy to train.]
He moves even closer. His body is mere inches from mine -- my vision obscured by his belly. The drafts of air escaping my lungs tickles the fine fur on his stomach. He seems oblivious to the breeze.
[Stand.]
I don't respond.
[Stand!] he growls, grabbing my hair with his paw and tugging harshly. I rise quickly to avoid the pain.
At full height, I appear to be a head taller than him. One-and-a-half heads more like. This cows him somewhat. I think he underestimated my size. I watch him for any change in mood. I've studied enough about them to know basic expressions (it's the positioning of the ears that gives the game away).
Yep...there we go...his face brightens. He sees me as a challenge. A toy to master.
He places his paws on my exposed chest. There are a couple of places where his claws nicked my skin. They bleed. His pads press against me. Rubbing his paws over me I see his eyes burn with...something. Something I'm not sure I like.
[You shall obey.]
He licks his lips. The cheetah turns to the flap of the tent and calls out. An attendant, of similar size and stature, enters. He takes one look at me and turns white. His master has no such compunctions. He talks the ear off the servant (Slave? Lesser tribesman? I'm not sure of the terms they would use). As promptly as he'd arrived the other cheetah leaves. Now it's back to me and the...teen prince.
My mind races. I could escape. Well, conceivably. I won't win in a chase scenario, but there may be other means of flight. I just have to bide my time. No use bolting when I have no bearings.
The attendant returns, and the attention of my admirer is again drawn away. This time, two brutish males follow. Very strong. Very muscular. It's kinda comical how different they look compared to the slender cheetah-folk I'd seen. These guys weren't built for speed. He needs their muscle -- it seems -- to help control me.
[Take him.] They grip my arms tightly, with crushing force. I let out a meek gasp. The chief's son turns to face me, then he glances at the guards. They loosen their hold on me. My sigh of relief is all the signal he requires to proceed.
* * *
The tribal settlement is nestled in a small valley, shielded from the heat by light brush. Beyond that, the vast savannah and scrubland stretching out for miles and miles lead to a sudden realisation: I've no idea where my Jeep or my camp is. As I'm escorted from the tent I seize the moment to scan my surroundings, gazing far into the distance. I cannot see anything that might tell me where I am. No Jeep -- no hope of escape.
"Shit," I blurted out.
The young cheetah's head snaps around. A clawed hand slashes the side of my cheek. 'Speak when you are spoken to' was the unstated meaning behind the attack. Stings like hell but it's not bleeding. And my scratches from earlier are healing.
He leads us on. His brutes pull me forward, my legs scrabbling to keep up. I watch him walk ahead, his body swaying with elitist confidence. We pass a number of tents, their occupants watching with interest as the tribe's latest capture is dragged behind their prince.
As we walk we come upon the chief, flanked by two spear-armed guards. His son approaches to explain himself, and I am given the opportunity to eavesdrop.
[Father.] His sire is my height, and has a weightier build. I should know. He was the one who wrestled me to the ground after the hunting party pounced. His son didn't compare, least not right now, but that would obviously change as he grew. [Father,] the son repeats, [it is good to see you.]