---Lloyd’s perspective---
---2704 Terran Calendar/8.5 years BF---
“The answer is no, Lewis!” I say, wearily but firmly, to the red faced man standing in the middle of my shop.
“What? You think you’re too good for me now you’ve got a cake shop in that London(!?) Couldn’t possibly be seen together with your boyfriend from Gwynedd(!)” he sneers, angrily.
“You are not my boyfriend anymore, Lewis!”
“I came all the way here!” he accuses.
“You did… You came all the way here, unbidden… stormed into my business and place of work, uninvited… Once upon a time I might’ve thought that was romantic… once upon a time!”
“You’re nothing without me!”
“That might be true, Lewis, but, when I’m with you, I’m less than nothing!… Now… kindly, either buy something or step aside… you’re holding up the line!”
He wheels to round on the woman standing far enough back as to be able to pretend she hasn’t noticed the intense, untranslated Welsh quarrel that’s broken out in front of her.
“Oh, I see how it is! You got horny and let a fucking trog-tarte drag you back to her cave!… Had yourself a taste of cavewoman pussy, and now your done with me!”
“Lewis!!!” I shout, angrily, caring much less about the false accusation of infidelity, from the serial philanderer, than I do about the bile he’s just spat at an innocent woman, whose only ‘crime’ was standing nearby to him while he was angry!
I thank God she can’t understand exactly what was said, even if I’m sure she’s understood that it was aimed at her and was not complimentary…!
“Maybe, if this bitch wants to take you away from me, I should tell her what a pathetic little slut you are in the bedroom!”
“Sir… In this shop, right here…” says the woman in fluent (though London-accented) Welsh, causing both me and Lewis to freeze, in horror “…I see exactly one pathetic man… and I think he should probably leave before he embarrasses himself any more!” she continues, fixing her striking, electric green eyes on him, unblinkingly.
Her tone is level… and, yet, there is danger in it!
I watch as Lewis looks the woman up and down, sizing her up…
She’s… tall for a Neanderthal… is she a hybrid?… No… she’s a Levantine, so she looks more Sapiensoid, but there’s no mistaking that she’s a full Neanderthal!
Lewis easily has 10cm on her but… everyone knows you don’t pick a fight with a Neanderthal unless you’re rock sure of yourself!
Everyone’s seen that one jock, at their school or uni, who got just a bit too full of themself and decided to have a go at the dweeby Neanderthal kid that’s present in every place of learning… who, usually, having been pushed to breaking, proceeds to pick them up and throw them into a crumpled heap on the ground, surprising no one but the bully!
I decide to head him off at the pass “Lewis, get out of my shop, right the fuck now, or I’m calling the Guard!”
With one last appraising scowl at me and then at her, he turns around and stomps toward the door.
“Don’t think I’ll take you back once you realise what a terrible mistake you’ve made!” he sneers, spitefully, over his shoulder, as he passes through the door into the pouring London rain.
Once he’s gone, I turn to the woman and, switching to English, say “Miss… I cannot apologise enough! You absolutely did not deserve to be disrespected like that!”
She smiles, revealing a mouthful of broad teeth, and chuckles “You’ve nothin’ to apologise for… It weren’t you who said those things… Also… I’m very used to gettin’ abuse hurled at me by people who’re, actually, angry about somethin’ completely unrelated… It don’t bother me too much, no more.”
“Regardless…” I insist “…you were insulted, in my shop, by my ex, in my presence… I can’t help but feel responsible!”
“That so?” she smirks “Then, what do you wanna do about it?… I don’t suppose I could just…” she raises two fingers and vaguely gestures in the air “…absolve you, could I(?)”
I smirk right back and fold my arms “This will take more than borderline sacrilegious hand-gestures, I’m afraid(!)”
She raises both brows, in an unmistakably flirtatious expression, and extends her hands in a ‘go on’ gesture.
I point to the display case between us “Anything you want… No charge!”
Momentarily, I feel a pang of embarrassment as I realise I’m effectively trying to buy her forgiveness (for the horrible abuse she just suffered on my account)… with baked goods!
Her expression turns to wry quizzicality “That’s a kinda dangerous offer, ain’t it? What if I pulled out a sack and decided to clean you out?!”
I shrug and say “If that’s what you decide you want, to make this right, then I’ll happily accept!”
She taps her index finger against the front of her jaw, pensively, for a few moments before saying “Can I choose to transfer this offer to someone else?”
I frown “I’d really rather you didn’t! Who were you thinking of?”
Still staring at me, thoughtfully, she answers “I don’t actually know his name… but I just watch this poor boy have a massive fight with his ex!… I reckon he could likely use a friend, right now… I’m hopin’ that, if I bribe him with confectionary treats and a cup of tea, I might be able to convince him to close his empty shop up early and have a chat with a stranger…”
I look at the dazzling woman… I’m about to answer that her offering me my own bribe back sort of defeats the point… when I reconsider…
“Alright…” I smile “…I’ll pick out something for this mystery friend of yours(!) What will you have?”
“I’ve heard…” she says, conspiratorially, as if about to ask for illicit substances “…you do really good gluten-free stuff here… This true?… I’ve got gene therapy scheduled for a few weeks from now but, ’til then, I’m coeliac.”
I grin “Bottom shelf on your left… though I don’t know who you heard that from(!)… You’re the first person to ask for any of my gluten-free stuff!”
She blushes “Alright, I read it on your website!…Happy?!”
“Extremely!” I answer, with a shiteating grin spreading across my face.
I start making two cups of tea and pick out one of my favourites from the stasis display case, which was keeping it warm and fresh, and place it on the counter.
She indicates a cake from my gluten free selection and I retrieve it.
Once the teas and both confections are on the counter she pushes the one that I selected toward me and says “Surprise(!) You were the boy(!!!)” with a punchy, humorous lilt to her voice.
I clap both my hands to my face and, with a flat tone and no expression, say “What an unforeseen development(!) I never would have guessed(!)”
She chuckles.
“I suppose this means I’ve got to close up my shop(?)” I ask.
She nods “Suppose it does(!)”
I give a mirthful sigh and tap my holopad, locking the door and dimming the windows to indicate that I’m closed… I’m only losing 15 minutes of business and, with this tipping rain outside, I wouldn’t have expected many customers in that time, anyway…
I round the counter and follow the gorgeous woman to one of my tables.
She sits. I sit opposite her and reach across the table “Lloyd ‘Lush’ Morgan… a pleasure to meet you!”
She takes my hand and, with faux refinement, kisses the air about a centimetre away from my knuckles “Charmed, Mr Morgan… Charmed, I’m sure(!)” she reverts back to her natural accent to say “The name’s Treg Leaf. Though, my friends just call me Tea.”
Her tone makes it very clear that I’m to include myself in that number, if I wish to.
“Is that ‘T.’, like the letter, or ‘Tea’, like the beverage you’re drinking?” I ask.
“Yes.” she answers, causing a chuckle.
“And that’s not an epithet? Just a nickname?” I ask. How old is this woman, exactly?
“It’s not, no… I only just started my first year at uni… It’s just a nickname, given to me by a…” her face falls slightly “…good friend.”
“A good friend who’s no longer with us, I take it?”
She smiles and gives a mirthful puff “Yes, but not in the way you’re thinking! He went starbound recently and… I miss him, is all…”
I feel a twinge of… not exactly ‘jealousy’ but… something as I quip “Ah! A different kind of Heaven, he’s in(!)”
She giggles, making my stomach swoop.
There’s a long pause before I say “You know, Tea… it’s very impressive that you speak Welsh!… Most nonWelshfolk don’t bother with it since anyone, who speaks it, will also speak English… well… apart from the Y Wladfawyr… but they all also speak Rioplatense Spanish… Is there a reason you decided it was worth your time to learn?”
She smiles “I just think it’s a pretty language, is all… Well, that and, because everyone assumes that only Welshfolk speak Welsh, I get to have gotchas, like I pulled on you and your ex, earlier, where I surprise people by speakin’ it!… And I enjoy that immensely!”
I laugh “I certainly feel like I’m getting an accurate read on your personality(!)”
She grins, mischievously, and there’s another long lull in the conversation.
Eventually, I break the silence “Listen… I just want to apologise again for what my ex said to you… He never said anything so bigoted, while we were together!”
She shrugs and says “It’s really fine, Lloyd!… You’ve shown you’re nothin’ but a sweet boy, since I walked into your shop! Your ex’s words ain’t yours to take responsibility for!… As for why he never said anythin’ like that before… that’ll be ’cause he’s a controllin’ narcissist… He realised that you’d’ve objected, so he never mentioned it.”
“Interesting…” I say, raising my eyebrow “…you mean it would have compromised his control over me? Then why say it now, when he’s trying to regain control?”
She turns her palm upward in a gesture of ‘who knows’ and says “People don’t always act rationally… he was emotionally charged about losin’ you… he turned around and found a new target for his anger…”
“That’s no excuse…”
She nods “You’re damn right it ain’t… That was definitely his mask slippin’ and revealin’ bigotry he already had… but I try not to hate the hateful… I pity them.”
“Really?” I say, not quite believing.
She nods “That friend I told you ’bout, he put it to me really well one time, when he said ‘anyone who feels proud of an accident of birth, like being born a Sapiens, is someone who’s got absolutely nothin’ else to be proud of’… and that’s kinda pitiful, ain’t it?”
I consider that for a moment before laughing “You’re very wise for an 18 year old, you know!”
She bristles with mock indignity “I’m 20, I’ll have you know! I took a few years off, after school, but I’m a proper grown up(!)”
“My apologies(!)” I grin.
There’s another pause in the conversation as we enjoy our pastries and nurse our tea, exchanging the odd glance.
She’s the one to break the silence, saying “Lloyd… I don’t know whether this is something you need to hear… but… you made the right choice!… Your partner should make you feel like you’re everythin’! If they tell you you’re nothin’, that’s fuckin’ toxic! If they make you feel your less than nothin’, that’s so much worse!… You are absolutely justified in cuttin’ toxic folk OUT of your life!”
I smile “Thanks, Tea… I needed to hear that, I think.”
---2714 Terran Calendar/11 months AF---
I watch as the mother of my child, the woman who makes me feel like I’m everything, ends the call with a man I was once (long ago) jealous of… and turns to me.
“So… what d’ya think of Vicky’s girl?” she asks.
“I think… you and your brother certainly share a type(!)” I smirk.
She laughs and answers “Oh, yeah(?) Because you’re a four armed sexy space babe with glowing eyes(!)”
I cock an eyebrow and respond “Both of you have chosen a slim, sexually submissive partner, who’s more than half a head taller than you… I’d call that ‘a type’!”
She balks “How do you know she’s a sub!”
I smirk “How do you not(!?) Don’t you always brag about your subdar(?) Could it be that you’re intentionally not thinking about it because you don’t want to think about how she and Victor might…(?)”
“Alright! Enough!!!” she interrupts, clear disgust on her face at having been made to consider her adoptive brother in a bedroom context.
I giggle to myself at the reaction that cured me of my jealousy for the man she grew up with.
She turns to me with the pursed lips of a woman about to engage in some revenge bullying!
She checks the time “I make it 1:30pm… It doesn’t take an hour and a half to get to Norway! Why’d you end the call?”
I shrug “Can’t hurt to be early! The worst that will happen is they’ll tell us to wait!”
“Uh-huh… You’re sure it wasn’t because you don’t want to wait?” she grins.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about…(!)” I say simply, with feigned innocence.
“Oh, I think you do!”
---Treg’s perspective---
I place one hand on my husband’s lapel and slam him into the sofaback.
I bring my leg over his lap and straddle him, pressing my breasts and tummy against his lean torso.
I hear his breath hitch as I look into his gorgeous, russet brown eyes.
I bring my hand to the back of his head and press my lips to his.
My sweet boy brings his hands to my back and strokes, squashing my flesh as he does.
I reach behind myself and push his hand down, indicating that I want it on my arse.
He goes above and beyond the call of duty by slipping it under the waistband of my trousers, into my panties, for direct skin-to-skin contact, as he gives me a squeeze.
I break from the kiss and say “You’re… so… fucking cute, you realise…?”
He smirks back “So fucking cute that you rejected me the first time I asked you out… (?)”
I role my eyes “Babes!? It’s been more than 9 years since then!… We’re married! We have a child together!… Your god willing, we’ll have another one in the oven, by the end of this weekend! Are you ever going to let that go?!”
He gives a closed eyed beam and answers “Never!”
I sigh “I’ve told you a million times; you were vulnerable and needed a friend more than a girlfriend!…The moment I didn’t think I’d be takin’ advantage anymore I asked you out! Didn’t I!?”
He turns up his short, Sapiens nose in a pretence of churlishness.
I give him another kiss, briefly and say “Alright, hotshot, ask me out!”
He looks confused “I’m sorry?”
“You heard me! Ask me out so I can say ‘yes’, this time!”
Wryly, he starts “Tea, that’s not…”
“What’s the matter?” I interrupt “Scared?! You were talkin’ such a big game, a second ago!”
He gives a mirthful sigh and says “Tea… my Darling… my Love… one whom I’m currently having a cwtch with(!): Might I ask if you’d like to take a holiday to Norway with me, this fine weekend(?)”
I grin, smugly “Can’t, I’m afraid… I’m already goin’ with my husband, you see(!)”
He gives a series of exasperated grunts, at having been got, before saying “You realise that, by that logic, you’d currently be straddling the lap of a man who wasn’t your husband!?”
“Yeah, well… it would serve him right for bein’ a grouchy old pout about somethin’ that happened years ago… and was for his own good(!)”
He juts his chin out, sulkily.
“Woah(!) Easy there, cowboy(!) You’ll take someone’s eye out with that thing(!)” I say, bringing my thumb to his chin crease and my index finger to the underside, such that his Sapiensoid spur protrudes between them.
He roles his eyes and brings his index finger up to my bottom jaw.
“Don’t act like you’ve not got the same spandrel!” he teases, tapping the ghost of three separate waves of Europeward, Sapiensoid migration that Levantine Neanderthals managed to withstand being on the front lines of, before the last one simply inundated and overwhelmed us!
I smirk “Flatten your palm and put the heel at your chin, for me?” demonstrating.
He looks perplexed but, after a moment, does so.
“Now bring your flattened palm toward your face and tell me what it touches first.”
He does and, once his hand stops moving, answers “The tip of my nose.”
“Mm-hmmm! Interesting! Now do the same to me?”
He hesitates a moment, before placing the heel of his flattened palm against my (whisper of a) chin spur and bringing it toward my face.
“I’m touching your lips first… I think I’d have to bend my hand to touch your nose.”
“Umveed! Und vuht’s duspite vuh fact vat muh ngose uz lunguh vun yuhs!” I remark, into the hand over my lips, before giving it a kiss and pulling it away “That’s the difference, honey! I’ve been resurrected into a world where everyone has the equivalent of the chin that Ainz Ooal Gown has… or would have… if he had skin, I guess!”
He scoffs “We have the equivalent of Clark Kent chins, at most!”
I think about doing some more teasing… but decide instead to reach for my holo and hail a capsule for two. Destination; Paleolittiske Opplevelseshotellet, Innlandet Fylke, Norway.
I remain straddling him and bullying him with kisses until about 10 minutes to our pickup, when I get off him and say “If there’s anythin’ else you feel like you can’t do without for the weekend, grab it now!”
I, of course, already have my shoulderbag packed and by the door.
I pick it up and wait in our balcony garden while he runs around the house like a chicken with his head cut off, looking to see if there’s anything he’s forgotten.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
I have a little amble around our garden, while I wait. It’s a hundred square metres of Alpine flowers, mosses, shrubs and trees with a little patch of grass for playing on…
I keep having to remind Lloyd that, when he want’s to play ball games with Chelsea, he needs to put up the barrier field because, otherwise, they’re going to lose the ball over the edge and it’s going to be a 10 minute round trip to get it back from the building management department, on the ground floor!
I walk to the railing and look down at my city.
The trees are beginning to look green and there’s no more ice visible in the Thames… at least, that I can see from up here… Guess it’s really Spring, now!
My husband joins me by my side and asks “What are you thinking about?”
I grin “Just thinkin’ ’bout how, if I told my 15 year old self how good I've got it now, she’d never’ve believed me in 10,000 years!” pulling him close and putting my arm around his waist.
He beams.
“Oh, think that’s ours!” I say, pointing out a transport capsule that has broken off from the flow of midair traffic and is beelining for us.
mf♫Right into your miiiiiind
Déjà VU!
I've just been in this place before
Higher on the street…♫mf
I sing to myself, half under my breath, as it drifts around the bend in an imaginary road and comes to rest at our railing.
“Oooh! A Deluxe! Lush!!!” comments Lloyd, ignoring the song I sing every time we get a capsule to come to our balcony.
“Course! You wanna tell our second child we took a shared transport to conceive them(!?)”
He pulls a mirthful grimace “I’d really rather not tell any of our children any of the details of their conception!”
I smack his arse, playfully, and say “Go on, get in or we actually will be late!”
He climbs into the sleek, spacious, privately reserved transport, with tinted windows, and I follow right behind him.
There’s plenty of room for us to spread out, in this limousine-style space, but I take the seat right next to him, at the back, and grasp his hand.
If we were going further afield than Innlandet, I’d definitely try my luck at capsule sex… but there isn’t really time. With how short a jaunt it is there’s, basically, only enough time for us to get dishevelled before we get kicked out at our destination, so I settle for just holding his hand and looking out of the window.
Very quickly, we hit the Northeast edge of the city and the densely packed buildings abruptly give way to the wild woods and heaths which dominate rural Southern England, with great herds of mammoth roaming across them.
The overwhelming majority of Earthbound people live in megacities, like London, but, here and there, you can see the odd town or village.
Shortly after hitting the North Sea, we fly over Dogger Island, and get a great view of its capital, Bankland (a lovely city), before we pass it.
Before too long we hit the Norwegian coast.
I’ve seen pictures of what this coast used to look like.
It’s extremely weird to think that, only a few centuries ago, when the sea was 30m or so higher, all of those incredibly distinctive coastal gorges were fjords!… So bizarre!
The Norwegian interior whips past beneath us, full of breathtaking mountains and dells… and a few glaciers, threatening to throttle them!
Finally, it comes into view. From this angle there’s nothing much to see; Just a landing pad and a path, through the pines, to a door in a mountainside.
We land, disembark and begin walking to the entrance, as our capsule clears the landing pad behind us.
We enter the reception, richly decorated with a paleolithic theme.
There are clubs, flint daggers and spears, pelts and tusks adorning the walls and, in the centre of the room, a mounted homotherium, midpounce and midroar, with its sabreteeth bared for the kill!
Never had the heart to ask if it’s real…
Behind Mr Whiskers is a desk at which sits the woman I hope my daughter grows up to look like; If her parents didn’t own this business, I’d bet she’d’ve been a glamour model!
Her pale skin is utterly without a visible flaw, despite the fact I’ve never seen the slightest hint that she bothers with makeup!
Her head of brunette hair, just past shoulderlength, is an impeccable blend of the volume of her father and the sleekness of her mother, with an artistic waviness to it.
Her bright, cerulean eyes scan the screen in front of her, fixed in concentration.
Her bare arms are noticeably toned!
Her face is the perfect balance of Neanderthal and Sapiens features, complementing eachother beautifully, rather than fighting for prominence!
Not obvious, with her being sat behind that desk, is the fact that she’s 192cm tall!
That’s even taller than the average Sapiens man and sits perfectly at the midpoint between my height and Lloyd’s!
If the day ever comes that Lloyd tells me he wants to try a poly session and asks if there’s anyone I can think of, ‘Sigrid “Babe” Valley’ is going to be the first name out of my mouth and no one else is even close!
…Would definitely have to invite her on a date before putting it to her, though… So she doesn’t think we’re treating her like something on the menu here(!)
I can’t imagine she’d say no to a dinner date in Oslo, if we invited her…
My subdar has her firmly pegged as a Switch… and it’s all I can do to control the wild fantasies: Tying a rope around her and Lloyd’s necks and leading both of them along, in coffle, her made to stare at my arse, him made to stare at her arse, as we walk!… Or… alternatively, of teaming up with her and tying his hands and feet to a long pole which we then lift together, bearing him along in a tribal carry!
Me and Lloyd arrive at the desk and I lean on it with one elbow.
Without looking up, the mouth-watering snacc of a woman speaks “Hei og velkommen til det Paleolittiske Opplevelseshotellet. Jeg heter Sigrid, og jeg vil være din…”
“Hei, Sigrid…” I interrupt with cocksure mirth.
She freezes and looks up from whatever task she was so engrossed in.
A broad grin spreads across her face (making her, impossibly, more drop-dead gorgeous!) and she switches to English (despite knowing both me and Lloyd speak Norwegian) “Tea! Lloyd! It’s so good to see you!… I was beginning to worry that you’d found a better hotel and had left me here all alone!”
“Better than the POH!? Never! You’re outta your mind(!)” I quip, causing a musical laugh from her.
“Special occasion?” she queries.
“We’re trying.” says Lloyd, to a confirmatory nod from me.
Her face breaks into delight “Oh! Congratulations in advance!”
“Thanks, Sigrid…” I smile.
“Reservation under Dr and Mr Leaf, I take it?” she asks, returning her gaze to her screen.
“You know it!” I answer, cheerfully.
“And the suite type? Mammoth Yurt? Treehouse? Cave?”
“Cave.”
“Ah, here you are! Got you!… I just need to give you the disclaimer. I know it’s tedious! You’ve got to have heard it so much that you can recite it from memory by now but, well, we just have to ‘cover our arses’(!)” she grins, deploying the phrase I taught her last time we came here.
Lloyd beams “No problem, Sigrid, cover away(!)”
Her eyes glaze over a little as she starts “Here at the Palaeolithic Experience Hotel, we pride ourselves on discretion. For that reason, we do not monitor your allotted suites in any way and all suites are isolated from eachother by soundproof privacy fields as well as, 5m tall, opaque barrier fields, to prevent trespass and to allow in natural light while preserving privacy. Attempts to circumvent or sabotage these fields will result in ejection from the premises without refund and may incur civil or criminal charges. The POH also wishes to inform you that we take safety very seriously! If you are unsure of whether any weapons you’ve brought from outside are permitted, please either consult our guidelines or a member of staff for guidance. All weapons that are available from our catalogue are in compliance with our rules. Should an injury or medical emergency occur, while you are in your suite, please activate the alarm and stay where you are. While there is emergency medical equipment on site, we are not, primarily, a medical facility and, as such, we ask that you refrain from any activities which are excessively likely to cause injury(!)” here, she gives a wink “Finally, we also ask that you confine all activities to your suites and do not make exhibition of yourselves in the halls and common areas… With all that said, we wish you a pleasant stay! Your suite number is 159. You’re all checked in.”
I smile “Thanks, Sigrid! Always a pleasure!… Maybe we’ll see you at dinner?”
She giggles “I get off at… 8pm, if you two would like to meet in the restaurant?”
Lloyd says “Sounds like a plan! See you then!” and, with that, we make our way down the long tunnel, bored into the mountain behind her.
---Lloyd’s perspective---
I’m leaning against the wall, in the tunnel, outside of the entrance to our suite’s changing room.
She’s asked for a 20 minute headstart, so she can change. So, here I wait.
Down the corridor I see a hairy chested Denisovan, walking my way with a cocky swagger.
He carries a blunt, hafted, flint spear that I recognise from the POH catalogue.
He stands about a head shorter than me, nude but for an artfully tattered skirt of leather scraps, he has a mane of dark (almost navy blue) hair and his lower face is covered in a layer of stubble.
His eyes have moderate heterochromia, one being a rich royal blue and the other being a more usual Denisovan grey.
His torso has the dimensions of a stasisfridge(!) Ludicrously wide and deep!
He’s also in very good shape!… I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a Denisovan man whom I would almost say had pecs instead of moobs… I’m partial to either, of course, but Denisovans, unlike (most) Neanderthals, typically really struggle to show any muscle definition through their body fat, despite having muscle to spare!
None of these things, however, are the most noticeable thing about this man… that would be the, ghostly pale, pair of bare legs hung over his shoulder, ankles bound, a mostly bare, pale arse, topped by a pair of bound hands, mere inches from his face!
From the skintone and bodyshape I have to guess that to be a Sapiens woman.
As he approaches, the man eyes me up with a playful smirk and raises his hand to smack the girl's arsecheek.
This induces a stifles squeak, letting me know her mouth is gagged.
I give an exasperated chuckle and role my eyes.
As the pair pass me, headed in the direction of the restaurant, I look to see the woman’s face, framed by a curtain of long, straight, ashen blonde hair.
The only parts of her that aren’t ghostly pale are a pair of royal blue eyes and a pair of flushed pink cheeks.
She’s clad in a pelt bikini and has a long strip of leather tied over her mouth (bulging from whatever he’s stuffed it with).
She winks at me and I give another mirthful puff.
Technically, what these two are doing is against the rules but, as long as they don’t start having sex on the restaurant floor, I expect they won’t be asked to stop!
Everyone knows what this place is for, afterall, and knows, for instance, that it isn’t a place you bring children!
My holo beeps, letting me know Tea’s headstart has elapsed.
I head into the changing room and see my outfit, laid out on the small bench in the middle of the room.
It’s a sleek, buckskin suit that fastens over one shoulder, leaving the other bare. It’s coupled with a pair of carved, bone rerebraces and another pair of vambraces, made of many small bones woven together.
For my feet, there’s a pair of fur lined, rawhide boots.
Finally, there’s a shortbow and a quiver of arrows.
Unlike that spear, which is allowed to be tipped with real flint (just with no edge or point), these arrows are tipped with rubber that merely looks like flint.
Of course, there’s little to no evidence that Sapiens had developed bows before the last Neanderthals were gone but… rule of cool supersedes realism!
I take off my lilac suit, hanging it up in a locker, above my boots, and change into the outfit my wife has picked out for me.
I pick up the shortbow and feel its heft.
Experimentally, I draw it and find that the drawweight is a paltry 10kg or so! This is solely a toy and could never be used to effectively hunt!
Fully prepared, I step into the clear tube in the corner of the room.
The door seals and I feel my stomach swoop, excitedly, as the floor beneath me begins to rise.
Light hits my eyes, blinding me after the roughly 40 minutes that I just spent in dingy underground tunnels!
I take in a deep breath of the frigid spring air and look around.
I’m standing in a forest clearing. Behind me is a wall of darkness, 5m tall, through which no light or sound passes.
Visible in the distance, on all sides, are the ice capped mountains that surround this basin.
In the distance, I here the slow, sombre, ominous tones of my wife playing her bone flute, through the trees.
She doesn’t seem to be playing any song in particular, just letting the minor key notes follow one another in whatever order they please.
I draw an arrow from the quiver on my back, nock it to my bowstring and set off through the forest of my hotel suite.
I avoid stepping on any leaflitter, or passing through any foliage… the result is that I pass entirely silently… or so I think…
As I draw close to the flute sound, it stops.
I can’t see her, so I would guess she hasn’t seen me… it’s inconceivable that she heard me while I was passing so noiselessly and she was playing the flute!
Might it have just been her own internal clock telling her that it’s time to start?
I hear my heart pounding, in my ears, and I feel my sympathetic nervous system decide that now is the time to spike my blood with all of the adrenaline!
There’s something out there, waiting for me……… and it ain’t no man(!)
I fight to maintain control of my ragged breathing as my eyes wheel this way and that, searching for what’s hunting me.
It get’s increasingly difficult, as the minutes wear on, to play the part of the oblivious Sapiens huntsman!
Obviously, some caution would be called for, on a hunt, but… when you know you’re what’s actually being hunted, it’s impossible not to behave a little too paranoid!
I’m continually sweeping the forest around me and seeing nothing… despite the fact that I’m almost certain she’s already found me and is just waiting for her moment to pounce!
Just then, without hearing anything, I… sense something behind me…
I freeze, my spine straightens and the world enters slow motion as I consider what action to take.
I decide to bolt; instantly confirming that I wasn’t imagining things as the presence turns into a noise!
I’m sprinting away as I hear an unfamiliar *whoosh**whoosh**whoosh**fwish* sound.
Something hits me in the legs and I *thud* into the ground causing an *oof* as the air is driven from my lungs.
My bow skitters across the ground, through the leaf litter.
My hands desperately go to my legs to try and release the bindings that she, somehow, threw at me but I know it’s already too late as I hear the booming footsteps, of more than 100kg of Neanderthal, sprinting toward me.
I feel a powerful foot between my shoulderblades and an irresistible pressure forcing me into the ground!
“Hello… meat!” comes the voice of the huntress.
“Os gwelwch yn dda peidiwch! Gad fi fynd! Rwy'n erfyn arnoch chi!!!” I plead, in a language playing the part of ‘Sapiens Tribal’.
She pretends not to understand, laughing “Your words funny, Skinnyman!” in a language playing the part of ‘Neanderthal Tribal’.
She kicks me over, transferring the pinioning foot to my solar plexus, and I get to see her new outfit for the first time.
Her long, carmine hair is tied back (as a huntress would obviously have it), her outfit bares one of her shoulders, same as mine, but, unlike mine, her arms are entirely bare, as is her stomach, as are her legs!
She wears a pelt top, that covers her breasts and fastens over her left shoulder.
A matching piece of pelt, about 30cm wide and, I would guess, more than 2m long, is acting as a loincloth. It seems to have been fastened by the simple expedient of putting it in contact with her underside, pulling both ends upwards to cover her nethers, then tying a long strip of leather around her waist, with the two ends having been brought over the belt, to drape down, in front of her crotch and behind her arse. The effect is quite stylish!
Her feet are bare and, as always, I marvel at her ability to tolerate the cold!
At her left hip, looped through her belt, is a coil of rope and, in her right hand, she carries a club made of a twisted treeroot.
I remember Mr Valley himself needing to be consulted on whether that weapon was allowable!
Ultimately, he ruled that; given how impossible it would be to do damage with it accidentally, it was allowable… subject to change, if she ever breaks any of my bones with it(!)
The woman pinioning me to the ground squats down to sit on me, her belly folds creasing, enchantingly, as she does.
I wheeze as her weight asserts itself, atop my diaphragm.
She begins feeling my arms and chest, and scowls.
“You not good meat! Too skinny, Skinnyman! Me not like!” says the woman, pretending not to know basic English sentence structure… despite being a doctor!
I say nothing, just trying to pull the face I would pull if someone terrifying was speaking to me in a language I didn’t understand.
She looks me up and down before seeming to get an idea.
She reaches behind herself and puts her hand on my crotch, cupping my dick and balls and giving them a, slightly painful, squeeze.
She bares her teeth in a wicked grin and pulls my hair so hard my neck cranes, as she says “Skinnymans not good for eating… Maybe Skinnyman meat good for something else?… Skinnymans so clever-clever-clever… Strongmans take Skinnyman seed, take Skinnyman clever!”
The convolutedness, of the thought she just expressed, meant that making it sound so stupid (ironically) took intelligence(!)
Nodding to herself, she says “Decided! Me take Skinnyman seed… then eat later, when not horny, maybe!” and, at that, she takes the rope from her belt and loops it around the back of my neck.
Feigning not understanding what’s going on, I react to the rope going around my neck by widening my eyes, quickening my breathing and trying to fight her off, wheezing “Na! Stopiwch! Arhoswch! Rhyddhewch fi!!!”
With a powerful hand, she grasps my forehead and slams it down so hard I feel the back of my head deform the mud beneath me!
She brings her freckled face so close to mine that I feel her breath on my mouth and, with quiet menace, says “No fight, Skinnyman! No fight or me eat you! Understand?!”
I almost nod before remembering that, in the canon of the fantasy, I can’t understand her!
I put up no further resistance as she forms a collar around my neck with the rope, stands up, kicks me back over onto my front, yanks off my quiver, tossing it to lie next to the bow, yanks off the bone armour on my arms before twisting both, such that my wrists are crossed between my shoulder blades and she is able to tie them onto the collar.
That done, she untangles my legs from the bolas and pulls me to my feet, taking the free end of the rope, to lead me by.
The weight of my arms, hanging from the back of my collar, puts a bit of pressure on my windpipe, at the front.
It’s not suffocating or anything (she knows how to tie a knot!) but it’s not comfortable either!
I could relieve the pressure, by hanging back and forcing her to put tension into the rope, but that’s a dangerous game as, if I overbalance, I don’t have my arms to break my fall!
It is utterly fruitless to try and fight my wife’s bulk and power so, instead, I just admire the swing of her bare thighs as she walks, the lusciously curvaceous arsecheeks protruding from the sides of her loincloth, the divinely beautiful way her lower back fat depresses up the length of her spine, the jiggle of her arms…
This woman is a voluptuous Queen! A buxom Empress!! A zaftig Goddess!!!
The fact that a woman this fine ever wanted anything to do with someone like me is nothing short of a miracle!
We come up on a cliff face with a cavemouth, a little more than 4m in diameter. The entrance is covered by a pelt curtain with a gap, at the top, for smoke to escape.
Still leading me by my tether, she drags aside the furry curtain and pulls me into the cave, illuminated only by a firepit, the orange light of which makes the animals (painted in ochre and charcoal on the wall) dance!
She brings me to the middle of the room, beneath a log beam, suspended securely between two ceiling ledges, and beside a raised stone platform, covered in bedding furs. She turns, smiles, approaches me, rounds my back and kicks out my left knee, causing me to crumple to the ground, her guiding me down by the shoulders, so I don’t hit my head.
She forcefully pulls off my boots followed by my trousers before unfastening my top, at the shoulder, and pulling it off, over my legs, too!
Fully nude now, my feet are bound with another coil of rope she had apparently left in here, during her headstart.
Having trussed my feet securely together, she throws the other end of the rope over the ceiling beam and begins hoisting, using her superior weight, more than her superior muscle, to do so.
My feet are lifted into the air and my upper body is, unnervingly, dragged across the cave floor until my head is no longer able to stabilise me and I swing, pendulously, through free space.
She hoists me, such that my head comes level with the edge of the stone bed, before she ties off the end of the rope to a (definitely not artificially positioned there for that exact purpose(!)) downward facing rock spur.
She goes to the fire pit, which has begun to burn a bit low since being lit (presumably the moment we checked in) by one of the housekeeping drones.
She turns to the enormous stack of dry firewood and takes four blocks or so, tossing them into the pit, followed by an armful of, more easily ignited, smaller sticks.
The fire begins to flare up, I hear the crackle and roar of the new fuel starting to catch, see the light increase and feel the intensified heat, radiating from that end of the cave.
Silhouetted by the fire… the woman, who owns my body, spirit and soul, walks toward me.
She gives me a push, renewing my nauseating pendulum swing, and laughs as I groan.
She sits down on the platform, the left side of her face illuminated by the orange light of the firepit, the right by the cool, diffuse, natural light coming in through the smoke vent.
Her groin is almost perfectly level with my head and she spreads her knees, thrusting it toward me, suggestively.
With agonising slowness, I watch her tantalisingly unknot the long strip of leather, acting as a belt to her loincloth.
She draws it out and the cloth falls, leaving her naked, from the ribcage down, and exposing her elegant, scarlet bush to me.
In a low voice, that has more the tone of a statement of fact than a request or an order, she declares “Skinnyman eat Strongwoman now.” and puts a hand at the back of my neck, drawing my lips toward hers.
---Treg’s perspective---
I feel my husband’s lips and tongue greedily working against my crotch, the sides of his head deforming the flesh of my inner thighs!
I see his erect cock hanging beside his taut abdominal muscles.
He’s having a little too much fun eating the pussy of a woman who dragged him back to her cave against his will, but… well… who am I to argue with resu-u-u-u-u-u-uuuuulttttttssssssssss!!!
I crush his face against the front of my pelvis as he induces me to orgasm.
Once it’s passed, I slowly, gently release him, allowing his head to swing away, then back, then away again.
“Meat make feel good! Maybe not eat!” I say, in my cavewoman voice.
He looks at me, tremulously, and says “A wnewch chi adael i mi fynd, yn awr?”
Oh, no, my darling!… I’m never letting you go!… ’Til death do us part!!!
Ignoring the question that my character wouldn’t understand, I reach to my right shoulder and begin releasing the knot that’s keeping tension in my simple rag top.
Once I have the slack to do so, I begin pulling it off over my head.
My breasts are squeezed and pulled upward with the pelt before freeing themselves to clap against the top of my belly.
By Sapiens’ standards, I am extremely overweight… Of course, my physiology is different to theirs… my bones and muscles are denser and my body is naturally stockier… still, even by Neanderthal standards, I am moderately overweight, with an unhealthily high bodyfat percentage.
This man… this man has never made me feel like my weight was any sort of barrier to attractiveness… quite the opposite… He actively seems to be turned on by watching the jiggle of the layer of adipose flesh I have over my muscle!
He’s a man who has never once made me feel like he thinks he’s doing me a favour by being with me, the way certain… other hopefuls for my affections made me feel, in the past!
It’s a little ironic that the man I respect most, in the entire universe, is one who I’ve got dangling from the ceiling by his ankles, just forced to eat my pussy and then referred to as ‘Meat’(!)
I look at the beautiful man, dangling from the ceiling, and wonder what I should do with him next…
I did bring a strapon, made with a rawhide harness and a piece of carved stone that a museum curator would likely list as a ‘model cucumber’, but… the problem with pegging him… the problem with edging him, fellating him or giving him a titwank is that… if he cums…
I’ve decided; there aren’t going to be any wasted opportunities! That cute little cock is going inside me! He’s going to give me his seed! We are going to have another child!
Wow!… Having my cycle reactivated has made me hornier than usual!
I get up and go to the rock spur, acting as the anchor point for his suspension.
I grasp the taut rope, getting ready to briefly take 67kg of dangling Sapiens, with one arm.
I tug the tail of my bowline and immediately become the only thing keeping Lloyd’s head from hitting the floor.
I lower him down gently (I do not want to accidentally concuss him!), until his head and shoulders are on the floor, then I release the rope, causing the rest of him to plummet to the ground with a surprised yelp.
I stride to where he lies and stoop to his feet.
I make eyecontact with him and say “You run, I catch, Skinnyman!” and begin unbinding his ankles.
Once his legs are free, I pick him up by the front of his collar, pulling him to his feet then pushing him back down onto the bed.
I follow after and bring one foot to each side of his, stick thin, abdomen.
I reach behind myself to grab both his ankles, pulling them up around the outsides of my thighs, to my chest height.
Wrapping my left arm around his right leg and gripping his left ankle with my left hand, I reach down, with my right, to catch his cock.
I pull it perpendicular to his torso, aligning it with the hole about to milk it of its seed!
The instant I feel him make contact with my lips I yank upward with my left arm, thrusting him inside me.
No longer needing my right hand to guide him, I bring it to grip his left ankle, transferring my left to his right.
I proceed to use his legs like the strings on a marionette, puppeteering his cock into fucking me!
He moans so wonderfully as I envelop him! I can’t help but laugh!
I step on his face (which I can’t do for too long because I’m in danger of losing balance!)
“You meat, Skinnyman!” I shout down at him.
“Dw i yn!” he moans, his pleasure seeming to have made him forget that he doesn’t understand me(!)
“You my meat!”
“Dw i YN!” he responds, biting his lip, shuddering and panting, his brow creased.
“You want be with Treg! Forever!!!” I snarl, gleefully.
“Dw i gwneud! Dw i EISIAU!… Plîs, cadw fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!” he screams as he climaxes inside me.
I smile down at my sweet boy.
Without dropping his ankles, keeping them as far up as they’ll go, to keep him plugging his precious cum inside me, I squat down to rest my weight on his hips.
Once I’m all the way down, I release his legs, reach for his shoulder and roll onto my back, rolling him on top of me.
I pull him into a cuddle and kiss him, tenderly, while keeping him inside me to let nature do its work.
Give me another child, you beautiful man! You sweet boy!!!
---Sigrid’s perspective---
I lied about getting off at 8… I just thought the extra half an hour would give me time to check my appearance; comb my hair, wash my face, change my shirt and so on!… I didn’t consider that that would also give me half an hour to get nervous!
It’s nice and simple, Sigge!
‘Tea, Lloyd, I’ve got next weekend off and I thought I might have a daytrip to London!… Would you like to meet up? You could show me around, we could maybe get a bite to eat, maybe grab a ‘pint’ at an English pub…?’
You’re not asking them to marry you, you’re not asking them to fuck you… You’re just asking to graduate your relationship from ‘friendly customers and friendly employee’ to, simply, ‘friends’!
They invited you to dinner, tonight! They’re not going to say ‘No! You disgust us!!!’, are they?!
The worst they’ll say is ‘Oh, sorry, we’re not free… How about another time?’
I check my reflection in the bathroom mirror and am unable to locate any flaw to further stall for time by fixing.
I take a deep breath.
Here goes nothing!
---Rhiannon’s perspective---
My niece comes down the stairs, in her adorable little footie pyjama’s!
She’s so small that she needs to put both feet on each step before she has the confidence to start on the next!
Such a little dwtty!
She gives me quite a fierce case of cute aggression!
“Good morning, Chelsea!” I beam.
“Goo’ mor’y, Anty Rhirhi!” she burbles, happily.
“So, today…” I say, leaning over the kitchen counter “…I thought I might take you up Yr Wyddfa!”
She gives happy li’l foot stomps at my tone but, I’m fairly certain, she doesn’t really understand much more than I’m taking her somewhere!
“Thing is, sweety… it’ll be really cold up there! *Brrrrrr*” I rub my arms and shiver to demonstrate “…So, first, I thought I’d take you to get some cold weather clothes! Does that sound like fun?!”
She giggles and nods, happily.
SO FUCKING DARLING!!!
“That’s a lot we want to do today, so we need a BIIIIIIG breakfast! What do you want, sweetheart?”
Her face lights up with excitement, as she declares “Pancakes!”