Carmen (Hus of Bovaria #1)
Chapter 1 – Carmen
In my first flash of lucidity, I'm not surprised by anything except my clarity of thought. Not by the fact I am kneeling on all fours, essentially naked in a field, not by the similarly exposed male who doesn't quite look human, pacing up and down the fence separating us on his hands and knees, and not by the various accessories–chest harness, knee pads, booties, and fist-gloves–we are both wearing.
What I am surprised by is that I'm aware of these things at all. I had expected uninterrupted oblivion–had actually counted on it–once the transformation process began. I'd volunteered my body to assist the Bovarians in saving their race, but had expected permanent relief from the traumatic memories that led me here, so I'm disturbed to be in any way cognisant of my past and surroundings. It is a relief to feel myself slipping back into oblivion, and my last thought is that I hope this time I will stay there.
The second time I come to is more confronting, and leaves me with no capacity to dwell on the past. I am inside this time, tethered to a stall with padded railings. There is a bowl of food in front of me. However, what arrests my attention is that there is something narrow injecting fluid into my vagina.
I startle and attempt to pull away, letting out a strangled noise, but there isn't anywhere for me to go, thanks to my tethered chest harness.
“Shh, easy honey,” a rich, soothing, male voice says from behind me, accompanied by a long stroke down my flank as the fluid injection continues.
I try to look behind me, to find the owner of the voice, but my restraints hold me too securely. I feel warm, almost hot, and agitated.
“Easy now, I'll take care of you.” The hand on my thigh sweeps around to the inside of my leg and up, cupping my mound.
I jerk again at the unexpected touch, and am about to protest at the overfamiliarity when his finger slips through my folds and lands with perfect accuracy on my clit.
My protest morphs into a moan, and I realise that my agitation is a result of neediness, not distress. My body is already primed, and my need blazes into an inferno at the contact. I have no control, and don't want it. I push into his palm, and he cradles me as I ride his digit. Chasing my need, I thrust faster and faster while he cups me steadily, only moving just enough to keep the pad of his finger exactly where I need it.
My cognition fades with the crest of my pleasure, and my last thought is that the tube has been removed from my vagina, and how disappointing it is to be so empty.
The third time is like half-waking on a lazy Saturday morning. I'm again on all fours, but this time I'm on soft, plush carpet, and am not wearing any accessories. And, bliss of bliss, someone is brushing my back with a soft-bristled brush, soothing away a slight itch, and leaving glowing contentment in its wake.
As I lean into the touch, I hear a light chuckle and a familiar male voice. “That feels good, doesn't it?”
I don't respond. I'm too blissed out.
“You're about halfway through your transformation now, Carmen. You're coming along very quickly, but I'm happy to say that everything is progressing smoothly.”
The strokes move from my back to my ass and the touch of the bristles in my crease jerk me out of my zen-like state. I turn an accusatory look on the male by my side. He's Bovarian, middle-aged, and has a light dusting of silver hair scattered through his dark pelt. He is really quite attractive, in a comforting sort of way, but what catches my attention is the fact that he is naked. Excepting a band around his upper arm, which holds some sort of device, he is very naked. Whoa. Despite my arrested attention, I find that his nakedness–that we are both naked–is somehow simultaneously unsurprising and confronting.
He chuckles and shifts the brush. “Does that tickle? I'm sorry, honey.” He glances forward and meets my frowning gaze. His eyes widen. “Are you with me, Carmen?”
My irritation had faded when he stopped touching my crease, and with it went my impetus to speak, instead I give him a nod as the blessed half-stupor comes over me again.
I regret that nod when, instead of resuming his brushing, his hand darts to the device on his shoulder.
“Hi, sir, I'm sorry to disturb you...No, nothing's wrong, exactly...It's Carmen...No, no, she's fine, better than fine actually, that's why I'm calling...Well, she looked at me very lucidly just now...I was brushing her, and accidentally tickled her, I think, and her glare was very pointed...Of course I apologised, but when I asked her if she was with me, she nodded...Yes, that's right sir...Okay, good, we are in the grooming room, obviously.”
He breathes out a sigh and closes his eyes for a moment before looking back at me. “Do you think you can stay with me for a bit longer, Carmen?”
I can't find the will to respond, although the darkness isn't beckoning yet, so I just shift on my hands and knees and wait for whatever comes next.