(Dear Readers,
If you're a new reader, I suggest you stop and start at the beginning. If you aren't new, awesome! Thanks for coming back for more story about this Emerald-eyed Druid and his harem of Animal-girls and horny priestesses. I hope you enjoy the read. -Pinkender)
Chapter 24- Alvas' Daughter
Helena couldn't believe what was happening. Did she really experience conception?
Normally, that was impossible! So then, what happened?
Wherever she was, whatever she was, she still remembered finding Daniel. He was dead. Burned so badly that the only reason she knew it was him was because he was the only one it could be. The only one in her house besides her. The only one left in her life who loved her, and the only one besides her mother that she loved in return. Grief. She had been consumed by grief. She still felt it now, but it was muffled somehow. She was going to commit suicide, by pills and alcohol or the knife. Then she heard a faint whisper in a dream telling her to play the game that Jerry found. Play it, and she would see her son again.
But where was she now?
She remembered getting up. Bathing. Dressing. Wanting to look her best for when the police found her. She made the selections that the game requested, and then, nothingness. Then she had the sense of feeling cramped on all sides, then thrust as she was propelled forward, and then an achingly long travel through darkness. When the sphere appeared she knew then what was happening. She knew that as her little ship penetrated the atmosphere of that colossally large planet it was actually the sperm dissolving as it broke through and cast her genetic material into the cytoplasm. She knew the nucleus for what it was and understood the explosion afterward was life's beginning. Her new beginning.
How did this happen?
It had to be the game. She didn't understand it, but that's all it could be. Somehow it transferred her consciousness to a man's sperm wherever this was. Honestly, she didn't care as long as she found Daniel!
She spent nine months sleeping in the luxuriously warm belly of her mother, but as time went by she woke up more often and needed to stretch. Sometimes she was struck with a sudden desire to play or explore. But more often than not she slept. Then came the day of tightness and birth. Warmth drained away and the dark world was suddenly claustrophobic, hot, and cold all at the same time. It seemed to take forever as all those warm walls seemed to collapse on her and push. Push her down. Push her out.
Light! Bright unbearable light hurt her eyes, and Cold! It was so cold!
Rough cold hands seemed to be bouncing her all over the place as she was roughly cleaned of embryonic fluid. Then a blanket was being woven tightly around her body before she was passed to who she assumed was her mother and felt her mouth pressed to a plump bosom. Without thinking, her mouth latched on and she was suckling.
"Welcome to the world my daughter," A warm voice purred above her, "I am your mother. My name is Alvas. Your father's name is Reas. I will name you Hlina Reas Alvasdottir."
----(!)----
It didn't take long to figure out she was in some other land, some other world than earth. As soon as her eyes cleared up enough to see she saw her mother.
Alvas was as dark brown skinned as some of the tribes women in Africa. Her skin was flawless. Her nose was small but wide, and her mouth was so overly plump and wide she would have fit in with any African woman she had ever seen on National Geographic. Her teeth were pearly white, and the rest of her bone structure was very distinctively black as she knew them from her world. But that was where the similarities ended.
Alvas eyes were burnished gold with flecks of green and blue. Her hair was long, thick enough for two women, and pale corn silk white. Her eyebrows were arched white lines that made her think of Spock from Star Trek, and her ears were long and pointed things that twitched with sounds she tracked, or with her mood. Most often they stuck straight out from her head to hover over her slim shoulders. They would droop when she was sad, quiver and tip up when she was excited, and lay back when she was furious.
She was also much shorter than Hlina's father who was a human, oddly enough. She was head and shoulders shorter. Of slender build in shoulders, chest, and waist. Her breasts were still fat from childbirth but they were shrinking incrementally, and even with them being fuller than usual it was apparent that they were not large to begin with. Everything changed upon reaching her hips, they were broader than her shoulders and her buttocks thicker than almost every other woman in the village, and the thickness continued down to her thighs, calves, and ankles to end with small feet with small stubby toes.
Dokkskogr Village was now comprised of dokkalfar women and human men her mother and grandmother called Afarmenni, or big men. Alvas and her mother were great storytellers. But this story they told only in hushed whispers and never where one of the men folk could overhear. All the while Alvas' older sisters and many of the older wives still of childbearing years, now married to their new human husbands, nodded along. Apparently, the only men in the village were all human now, but before their arrival the tribesmen were dokkalfar.
They were a very aboriginal people living in harmony with nature alongside Animals. It was a responsibility passed down from times immemorial, to maintain order and to balance the populations of the wild Animals. Their men. Their true men. Dokkalfar men during the summer months had worn loincloths and highly decorated ponchos despite the cool climate in the mountain valley they lived in. It was a particular bone of contention since their new husbands would only allow the women and girls to continue wearing their traditional garb. The boys now had to wear the same heavy clothing their fathers wore, and boots instead of sandals or going barefoot. Something had happened though. An accident while all the men were out hunting. The men never returned. Then a few weeks later a group of humans came to their village and told them what they had found.
Worried for their future and the upcoming winter and grieving for their loss, the foremothers accepted the men's offer of marriage to some of their young women in exchange for protection and provisions. A few months later more men arrived, and then still more a few months after that. With each new arrival more of the young women were married to the human men until all the young virgins of marriageable age were married. Then the widows began finding men they could accept as new husbands, and before anyone realized every woman from one-hundred and fifty to seven-hundred years of age was married. Alvas was one of the last of that group to marry. She was only one-hundred and fifty years old.
Hlina arrived only a year later.
Another thing that arrived were more men. Unscrupulous men that took the young unmarried virgins below the age of one-hundred and fifty as wives by force when unwilling. The foremothers complained greatly at the insult, but it continued on and the most adamant opposers among the grandmothers started disappearing. Now there wasn't an unmarried virgin below the age of fifteen, and no one dared confront the men over the perversity of it.
Dokkalfar women wore even less than their dokkalfar men had worn in the summer months. Grandmothers wore multitudes of waist chains and sarongs that fell to their knees or ankles. Young mothers, usually wives or widows but not always, wore a few waist chains and then short wraps that barely covered their bottoms and sex, and was tied on the left hip so that that entire buttock and thigh was exposed. Unmarried and childless women wore no waist chains and only small loincloths that really didn't cover their sex in the front much at all, and was tied in the back exposing their buttocks completely.
