Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 46078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
“I’m hungry,” she announces, squirming around. “Have you anything to eat on this great, grand vessel?”
“Of course. We have every kind of raw meat you can imagine.”
“Hm. And a kitchen to cook it in?”
“Leonids don’t usually use kitchens. Our bodies are trained to extract nutrients from raw ingredients. We have a freezer and a warmer to return the meat to living temperature, but cooking isn’t…”
She’s off my lap in an instant, pacing back and forth with a concerned look on her face as it becomes apparent she is very worried about not having anything to eat. It’s a pleasant view, her naked body thick and athletic from a lifetime of hearty food and hard work.
“Where’s the kitchen? I mean. Warming… room? You were planning on buying me, right? You must have planned on feeding me something.”
“We eat every week or so…”
She shakes her head at me, as if that will not do. “Humans eat three times a day or we get hangry.”
“I am not familiar with that term.”
“A combination of hungry and angry. People become bad tempered when they have not had enough food.”
“Ah, then yes, I am well familiar with the concept. We call it the hunt hunger. It is the impetus to go out and kill.”
“Sure. Yes. Like that.”
“Well, we can’t have you feeling that way, can we, my little human. Come. Let me see what I have to feed you.”
She gives me a dubious look. “I have supplies on my ship,” she says. “Maybe I’ll just go there. It’s in your transport bay, right?”
“I am the owner,” I remind her. “I will feed you.”
“Well…” she says. “Technically…”
I stand up, my head three feet higher than hers. That alone should establish dominance, but so should having been fucked to screaming orgasm. All it does is make her take a step back so she doesn’t have to look up at me from such a sharp angle.
“Technically, I own you just as much.”
Maybe she’ll be submissive later. Maybe it takes a little time.
I put a large paw on her delicate shoulder and steer her from the bridge down through the great space of my ship’s den, to the cool store where dozens of cuts of prime meat are hanging. I notice her skin begins to form many dozens of small raised bumps. She shivers as she looks over her shoulder at me.
“I’m a vegetarian.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means I don’t eat meat.”
I stare at her blankly, because this information does not gel with my understanding of her species.
“My research indicated humans are omnivorous, capable of eating almost anything.”
“Capable, perhaps. Willing? No. I don’t eat anything that has a face, on the grounds it was probably using its body before it was slaughtered to become my lunch.”
“I thought you were a farmer.”
“I am. I farm crops and goats, for milk. Not meat.”
“Oh. Then. Yes. Perhaps your ship’s stores would be more nutritionally appropriate.”
“Perhaps,” she agrees with a dubious look at me that indicates she finds me somehow inherently wanting. I will break her of that attitude soon enough.
We both adjourn to her ship, where she dons fresh clothing, a cotton dress with a floral print that is quite pretty. I remain naked, which seems to please her, judging by the way I catch her eye wandering to me and over me as she raids her food stores.
I barely fit inside her vessel, as it was built economically to transport relatively small humans. I have to stoop to move through the entryways and halls, but I do find enough room to sit eventually, pressed between her flight console and a bookshelf containing a series of tomes marked “JOURNAL. DO NOT READ.”
I am, of course, deeply tempted to read them.
Ava catches me looking at them. “You can look,” she says. “I stopped journaling after my grandmother died, but the early stuff is less depressing.”
“I am sorry to hear of your grandmother’s passing.”
“She was the last of my family. Besides me, I mean. My mother died not long after I was born, and my father never knew I existed, by all accounts. The asteroid was Grandma and Grandpa’s farm. It ran by their rules, but Grandpa died when I was about ten, and Grandma passed when I was about eighteen. It’s just been me since,” she explains while preparing her meal.
“Solitude can be a painful cross to bear,” I commiserate.
“I don’t mind it. It’s the company of Growlers I don’t like. They’ve become so destructive over time. It’s because I’m not brutal enough. I don’t like killing. I can do it if I have to, but I hate it.”
I am glad to hear that she is peaceful. Everything about Ava pleases me greatly.
“What do you call this dish you have created?” I ask the question with curiosity as she chops into a range of vegetables and tosses them into a bowl.