EPILOGUE
NOVA
Three months later
Zyren’s office is even more cheerful and cozy than I remembered.
Maybe it’s because I now see all the hidden softness between his seemingly cold actions, and all the little details he adds to put people at ease—the fresh, fragrant flowers near the window, the plush rugs underfoot, the chairs at various heights to accommodate different types of sapients.
There’s also how he hums when he thinks nobody can hear him, and the way he remembers every patient’s favorite beverage, having it ready for them just as they arrive—even accounting for habitual tardiness and early-arrivers.
When others are in the office, Zyren and I appear remarkably polite for owner and hucow. I’ve taken on a role somewhere between shop cat and secretary, greeting people warmly when they arrive.
If I pout enough, Zyren will give me some finance reports to work on or a chemistry problem, and these keep me busy during his appointments.
Others compliment me or Zyren on how little he tenses when they pat my head, or feed me a bit of fruit, or otherwise speak affectionately to me—hucows are irresistibly cute to most Arthropoids, it seems.
But I know the truth.
I’ve been railed out of my mind on every flat surface in this office—and a few not-so-flat ones, as well. Zyren is exceptionally jealous, and I love the way he snaps when we’re alone again, wrapping me in that bruising grip and kissing me fiercely until I’m full of his cum or his eggs or both.
More than once, Zyren has lost track of the clock, and only his telepathic sense of his client approaching spared us from embarrassment.
Whenever I answer the door still breathless and red-cheeked with my dress askew, thrill rises in my chest. Zyren enjoys that, so he takes yet more risks.
I love the days I spend full of his eggs, pampered and useless save for how he fucks me as he pleases.
Those days are my precious respite from pain.
Zyren has strictly limited me to one brood per week so I don’t overly tax my body, but that doesn’t stop me from begging, nor does it stop my begging from making his abdomen spasm, dumping a whole clutch of eggs on the floor.
That’s plenty satisfying in its own way.
Zyren does ultimately end up using my milk as he’d planned, formulating medicines. Sometimes he even collects it fresh, tugging at my nipples until I fill a glass for his patient to drink, washing down a bitter tonic.
However much of my milk he gives away, as soon as we’re alone, he drinks ten times that from me as if to prove I’m still his. I love his roughness when he’s like that, love how it means I’ve strained his usually meticulous control.
A couple weeks after he returned to seeing patients, somebody brought in a limp little ball of fluff.
The poor thing had gotten into a fight over a fruit rind and lost terribly.
Zyren identified it immediately as a Howling, and the patient asked if it could be helped.
Zyren agreed, of course—I know all too well the weakness he has for cute, pathetic little creatures.
The first thing Zyren had to do was shave it, revealing a ridiculous little lemur-like creature with chubby limbs, an oversized mouth like a frog’s, and a tail three times as long as its body.
Its wide, frightened eyes scanned the shop warily, and Zyren asked me to come soothe and distract it as he cleaned its wounds.
I shared my lunch, feeding it bits of fruit and speaking softly to it. The Howling calmed, and when Zyren finally released it, the little thing jumped into my arms, wrapping its long tail around my wrist.
“Can I keep it?” I asked.
“Only as long as it takes to get better,” Zyren sternly replied. “You’ll soon learn why they’re called Howlings.”
I nursed the little thing back to health and spoiled him rotten. His fur grew back, and he returned to a pinkish puffball with giant eyes and a long, tuft-tipped tail.
Every time Zyren went to release him back into the wild, he faked a limp and mewed pitifully in my arms.
All it took was one glance at my pleading eyes, and Zyren relented, letting the Howling stay.
It’s been clear for at least the last month that the little creature, which I named Fizzgig after my second-favorite movie, won’t be going anywhere. Though, that doesn’t stop Zyren from making his idle threats whenever Fizzgig lets out too loud of an awooo! begging for food.
No amount of pleading eyes, from either Fizz or myself, can convince Zyren to bring Fizz back to our house. So, the little Howling diligently guards the shop while we’re away, then calls loudly for us every morning as it hears us approaching.
Zyren pretends to merely tolerate the little creature, but I’ve caught him sneaking Fizzgig treats more than once.
Fizz spends most of the day perched on my shoulder, curiously regarding whatever I’m doing and declaring his opinion, usually with a howl of varying volume.
He loves being petted, and on the days when my pain is bothering me, he clings happily to my chest and purrs while I stroke him for as long as I like. And when I stop, he bumps his head against my arm, begging for more.
On the days when I’m full of eggs, unable to move, he curls up on my bed, rubbing his soft fur against my cheek.
Today, Fizzgig naps on the table next to me as I work through a series of chemistry problems. Normally, these would be quite easy for me, but Zyren has posed a new challenge, commanding that I wear a thick butt plug affixed with a fluffy, tufted tail that resembles a Howling’s—or a cow’s.
The same day he gave me the plug, he also placed a collar around my neck—pink with a round golden bell.
I’m still not entirely sure why—he can find me at any time telepathically—but he murmured something like, “Hm, Sylvus was right about this one.” He’s put the collar back on me every time he’s bathed me since then, and I’ve accepted it happily.
I accept a lot happily these days. I thought I’d be bored by a life like this, but I’ve changed.
It’s not entirely the hucow serum altering my brain, either.
I’ve labored enough. Rest is welcome, even if Zyren still has to trick me into it sometimes—such as by stuffing me with this plug, which makes me shift and fidget and lose my train of thought.
He promised that if I wear it diligently, he’ll stuff both my ass and cunt with eggs at the same time…
Zyren’s pen lifts from his paper as he writes up notes from his last appointment.
I smile to myself, proud to have distracted him with my lewd thoughts, even though I’ll pay for it later. I do so enjoy paying for it later…
Zyren’s stern voice cuts across the room. “Keep daydreaming like that, and you won’t be making it to your playdate.”
I straighten quickly, though the sudden movement sends a pang through both my ass and breasts, complicating my commitment to pure thoughts.
“I can’t miss tonight,” I plead, “Andromeda said they finally found Jurrasic Park…”
Zyren levels his cool gaze at me. “Then behave. Simple.”
I clench around the massive plug he gave me, stifling a whimper.
The slightest ghost of a smile pulls at Zyren’s lips, and I know he turns away to hide his grin from me.
I huff and return my attention to my chemistry problems, but I can’t focus on them.
Fizzgig rolls over, exposing his four chubby feet, and I rub the Howling’s belly to pass the time.
A few minutes later, Zyren abruptly grabs my hips and hauls me out of my chair, his already-dripping cock sliding between my thighs.
I whine. “But you said I wasn’t allowed to think lewd thoughts before my playdate! This is impossible!”
“I changed my mind,” Zyren says cooly. “I require release before your playdate.”
He doesn’t make me wait any longer before plunging his cock into me.
With the massive plug wedged in my ass, it feels incredible.
Zyren must agree, because a moan of pleasure falls around me as his parameres grip my mound, massaging my labia and clit as he thrusts past the swell of my plug.
It’s all too much. I fall apart quickly, cumming hard and fast, and Zyren is soon behind, growling over me as he pumps my cunt full of heat.
He carries me over to the drain in the floor, letting me sit there and float in the afterglow as his cum flows out.
Zyren finishes his work, and by the time I’m coherent again, it’s time to head over to Sylvus’s.
Zyren scoops me up, and his wings whir behind us, spiriting us into the air. Fizzgig launches himself at my lap, bracing to be set aside as he usually is—then he coos with glee as Zyren tolerates his presence. He snuggles to my chest, and I hold him tightly.
Borne on Zyren’s wings, we move swiftly through the chaos of Sherexis, soon delving into the quiet, webby cocoon of one of Sylvus’s lairs.
The noise of the city seems to totally disappear, and I idly wonder how Sylvus must have woven his silk to create such a dampening effect.
Zyren sets me down in a wide nest of pillows and blankets where my two friends already laze—Andromeda with her halo of curls and Celeste with her long brown hair.
This is the second time we’ve all met together, and the fourth time I’ve seen Andromeda since forming the contract with Zyren.
Andromeda and Sylvus stop by Zyren’s office if they’re in the neighborhood for business.
Honestly, I thought we’d chat more, but the greatest comfort is their simple company. I clamber over to them, and Celeste nuzzles my cheek in greeting before Andromeda tackles us both back onto the pillows, humming happily as our bodies settle together.
Fizzgig bounds across the nest, sniffing everyone. He takes a breath to let out a happy howl, but a cutting glare from Sylvus sees the noise die in his throat.
We adjust until we’re comfortable, watched over all the while by Sylvus, Razul—a shiny metallic beetle Arthropoid and Celeste’s caretaker—and Zyren. They perch in the room’s upper layer, quietly talking.
Sylvus dips down to adjust a massive Earth-style television, which I’m pretty sure is a legit artifact. A few moments later, the lights dim and the opening theme of Jurrasic Park rings out.
Celeste, Andromeda, and I coo with glee, settling in.
“Have you ever seen the Dark Crystal?” I ask them.
They both shake their heads.
“I think Sylvus has it, though,” Andromeda offers.
“We have to watch it,” I say. “It’s what I named Fizzgig after.”
The Howling chirps happily when he hears his name, clambering to the top of our pile and basking in the attention from Andromeda and Celeste.
“If Sylvus doesn’t have it, I’ll make sure he finds it,” Andromeda promises.
We settle in and enjoy our movie.
The men watch from above, tossing out various comments and critiques. They keep their distance, if only because being any closer tends to get pulses running hot, cutting our playdate short.
As the movie continues, I feel the subtle tension slowly increasing in Zyren’s consciousness as it becomes harder and harder for him to keep his hands off of me.
When Andromeda starts playing with my hair, braiding it idly, Zyren’s jealousy spikes. I lay back and bask in it, mostly succeeding at not fantasizing about it, which would bring about the end of my social time before the movie’s over.
The credits roll and the lights brighten again. Andromeda, Celeste, and I all have pinker cheeks than when the movie started. Andromeda’s breasts are visibly larger, and Celeste keeps glancing up at Razul.
With knowing, shy glances, we hug each other goodbye and make promises to gather again soon.
Our caretakers gather each of us, offering curt farewells to each other before dispersing.
Zyren takes us back to his office, which I assume is just to drop off Fizzgig.
He sweeps his arm across his workbench, sending glass shattering, then descends upon me.
The sudden fierceness of his affection sends my blood boiling, and I moan needily as Zyren fills me with his cock. His fingers sink deep into my flesh, squeezing so hard it hurts, and I love it.
Zyren was right—hurting for him is the sweetest reward. I long for the bruises I’ll show tomorrow, painting my hips and waist.
I no longer obsess over the idea of a life without pain; I’m simply grateful for all the pleasure I get to feel, and for the comfort Zyren gives me when I reach for him.
Whether that comfort is a gentle touch, a piece of sweet fruit on my tongue, his fingers in my hair, or his cock ramming deep as it does now, it’s precious all the same.
So, I muster my focus and my breath to speak the words I know he loves so much to hear.
“Zyren… it feels… so good…”
His hot breath falls over my ear. “I know, little lamb. Feel it all for me.”
And so I do. I let every sensation flow through me, no matter how intense.
One is the hardest to bear.
Zyren presses his temple against mine, deepening the connection between our thoughts.
His blazing, fervent love surrounds me. Every time, it scares me a little less. Every time, I relax into it more.
This time, I sink deep and fast.
My heart overflows with gratitude as cries of pleasure spill from my lips.
I can no longer form words, but my mind clings to a thought, pushing it toward Zyren as an offering. All the suffering along the way—I would face it all again if that’s what it takes to be here, now, with you.
His breath catches, and fervent kisses rain across my cheek as his cock throbs, nearing the edge.
I cry out at the shock of pre-orgasmic pleasure.
That’s another benefit of our mental link—unless I’m affected by his venom, we nearly always climax together. His pleasure becomes mine, and mine his.
Just as we tip over the edge into overwhelming release, Zyren’s reply slips into my mind.
I know, little lamb. You’re mine now. And I will always take care of you.