(Tags: NSFW, M/F, /hmofa/, bear, sci-fi, second person, long, in-progress) (Last update on 2020-09-02, starting on line 237) ### Day 0 ### One, three, five, seven... no, eight. Eight pods this week. More than usual. You wonder if it's someone you know. Can't be. Ever since 8412-5 was taken over a years ago you've stopped making friends. Your old crew is long gone at any rate. You sit down on the marble bench and continue watching the docking procedures through the space window. They're a bit early today; the simulated sun has barely reached midday and most of the others are still eating lunch. You look back towards the garden in front of you and try to relax. You never got used to the comings and goings. Well, the goings at any rate. There hasn't been a coming since your group arrived four years ago. In fact, there aren't many of you left now. Two dozens or so? There were nearly four hundred when you arrived. You close your eyes and feel the fake wind and artificial sunlight caress your skin. To think that you once liked this place... You were one of the last free humans, orbiting some distant star in an old generation ship that had long since stop working properly. It was only a matter of time before they found you and brought you back into the fold. Well, that's what the elders said, anyway. You were born on that ship and its dull, repetitive hallways were all you knew. You used to be happy there, playing with the other children without worrying about what might come, but as the last working generator started having its hiccups energy was quickly rationed and everything seemed to grow dull. Not just the lights in the corridors, but the ones in the eyes of the adults as well. There had been a feeling of finality, that this was it and that there were no more lifelines remaining. There had even been talk of rigging the ship to blow should they try to board it - better to go out with a bang than with a whimper. Talk that probably shouldn't have been had in front of the children but that was impossible to avoid hearing as the living quarters were restricted more and more due to the energy deficit. Years passed and finally they arrived. No-one put up a fight. By that point no-one had anything left to fight for. The wait had been worse than anything else, and seeing the elders refuse food for the sake of the young and pass away as half-translucent afterimages - like those of the stuttering in the holographic tapes there was once enough energy to watch - had broken the last thoughts of resistance. You open your eyes again. This place had been a paradise in comparison. For the first year you had been as happy here as in the well-lit corridors of your childhood. You were given food to eat - good food; real food - and soft beds with clean covers and endless running water and open spaces to wander and medicine to cure all ailments... You had all grown healthy here. And strong. Exercise was an important part of the routine, at least if you wanted access to the most delicious food. Then reality set in. The pods weren't just dropping off supplies, they were also picking up humans. You had tried to ignore it at first, tried to focus on the positives of this gilded cage, but it was no use. No amount of books or walks through the gardens could shield you from the weekly visits. Eventually you simply accepted it. The dullness was back and you had nothing else to do but wait. Whatever fate awaited you it would find you sooner or later. Inevitably the hidden speakers come to life with their upbeat jingle. The female voice started as usual by wishing you all a wonderful day and congratulated both everyone and no-one in particular for behaving oh-so well this last week. Then came the numbers. 8415-7, 9104-3, 9104-4, 7989-72... 7989-72. You choke on your breath, the warm air in the garden seemingly replaced by the icy-cold vacuum of space. Every muscle in your body tenses up as every single stupid thought of escape you've ever had rushes through your mind, leaving you reeling as you clutch the armrest of the bench until your knuckles turn white. Slowly your grip lessens and your muscles relax. You're surprised by your reaction. You've known this was coming for years, so why... Looking over toward the entrance you already see two of the caretakers moving your way, both smiling as if they can't wait to be rid of you. One last thought of a desperate escape fills you and you feel your muscles tense again only to immediately give in. There's no point. Emptiness fills you as you stand up and turn toward the two beast women. "There you are, 7989-72!" the reptilian one says almost gleefully. You have no idea what particular species she is; that was never part of your holotape teachings nor listed in any book you've come across. "It's your big day today, aren't you excited!?" Without waiting for an answer she continues in the same obnoxious tone: "I told you someone would pick you eventually, that it was only a matter of time, and poof! Just like that, here we are!" She turns to the tiger at her side. "It always brings me such joy to send them off!" "Please try to act professionally even then," came the answer. "We still have a schedule to keep." The tiger, as to emphasize her words, holds up her PDA for the reptile to see. "I know, I know, but wouldn't it be sad to send one off without so much as a word? 7989-72 has been here for a bit over four years!" Not one to be deterred, the reptile tries to cheekily nudge her co-worker with her elbow, only for the tiger to quickly move out of the way. "We will give him the standard farewell at the docking bay," she states, matter-of-factly, before turning to you. The bright glow in her amber eyes and the twinkle of white from her sharp fangs sends another thought racing through your head: are you to become food? They've refused to answer any questions as to where they send you, only repeating some version of 'we're trying to set you up with a good home'. Yet, thinking back to what the elders used to say... Sensing your trepidation the reptile gently, but firmly, grabs your arm. "Oh, there's no reason to worry, I'm sure everything will be fine. More than fine, in fact! I'm not supposed to-" "And neither will you," comes a sharp retort from the tiger, shutting her down completely. "Fine," the reptile continues. "Let's be on our way then." She pulls at your arm gently and you follow, having even less reason to stay than to face the uncertainty that lies before you. If this is to be your last day at least you want to face it like a human. At the docking station you're greeted by another beast woman. This one is different, however. She's not dressed like the caretakers and doesn't really seem at home on the station with the way she's looking around and fidgeting with her handbag. As you're brought toward her she seemingly shines up and clasps her hands together in front of her chest. She's a sizable bear woman, at least two heads taller than you and quite a bit wider. Yet it's more than just size. The way her short brown fur shapes itself over her muscles as she moves her arms indicates a hidden strength many times that of your own. As innocent as she looks in her purple summer dress and matching bag she's not someone to be taken lightly. "Is... Is that?" she asks, her voice surprisingly sweet and gentle for such a creature. "Yes, this is the one you requested," answers the tiger, bringing up her PDA once again. "I'll need your signature, if you please." "Of course, right away!" the bear replies, walking over to join the tiger with a bounce in her step that makes her dress dance in a way that reminds you of something... something from an old holotape you were never quite old enough to be allowed to watch. You're pulled back to the moment as the reptile squeezes your arm. "Doesn't she look nice? She passed all the tests with flying colors and got an A+ mark on the final exam! Even I only scored an A! Oh, and Bonnie", she looks over at the tiger with a mischievous look on her face, "only got a C. But don't tell her I said that." She laughs, and for once you feel like it might just be genuine. You remember hearing their names before. Bonnie and... Vicky? No, the reptile had a less human name. Vizy, was it? It reminded you of 'visceral' and gave her whole being a sinister air in your mind, despite her bubbly personality. They had scared you at first, of course, being two of the first beast folk you had ever seen, but they've never treated you badly. If anything they've treated you like a child. Someone who can't be trusted if left alone and that needs to be protected from themselves. "Well then," you hear Bonnie calling for your attention. "Everything is sorted and the pod is ready to go. So-" "Oh, oh, can I!?" interrupts Vizy. Bonnie looks less than please but you can tell she wants to get this over with and she simply rolls her eyes and lets the reptile take over. Vizy clears her throat and begins: "The day has come, 7989-72, for you to leave your caretakers at Sunbeam Station and to enter into the care of your new family. Ms. Graybark has proved herself an excellent caretaker and will provide for you as you move into your forever home on Ursavius III-" "Four," Bonnie injects with the voice of one correcting a child's seventeenth consecutive spelling error. "-IV," Vizy continues unabashed. "We here at Sunbeam Station wish you all the best in your future life and know that you will be as well looked after and well loved as any human could ever hope for." She beams at you before looking over at the tiger who, unable to find any further flaws in her delivery, simply nods her head. At this Vizy turns back to you with an - if possible - even bigger smile. You're not sure what to feel. You're not sure you're even understanding what's going on. Everything seems so much more... well meaning than anything you had ever heard. Sure enough you've never seen any of the beast folk injure or even mistreat one of you, but that almost made it worse. The causality with which they've treated you like something less than what you are, like a child or an animal that isn't allowed to make its own decisions, always seems more like a display of power than anything else. You knew full well any one of them could snap your arm in half without even trying. All it would take is for them to misjudging how much force they'd need to use to get you to follow along. Yet not once in four years have you seen as much as a broken nail. "Oh, I don't know if anyone mentioned it, but he doesn't talk much," Vizy tells the bear with an apologetic tone. "That's really not a problem," comes the answer. "I did ask for a calm and quiet one. I'm sure he'll open up eventually." "Indeed so." Bonnies words comes with a noticeable finality. She has clearly decided that, now that the protocol has been followed to completion, it's time to her to return to her regular duties. "Again, Ms. Graybark, I thank you for choosing to adopt from Sunbeam Station and wish you the best of luck." She makes a motion as if to bow, but either stops herself or feels anything more that what she achieved is redundant and so turns away and starts walking off with her tail swinging modestly in her wake. "Wait for me!" Vizy shouts after her before turning back to you with a gentle smile. "Write us a line after you've settled in, okay? I really hope you'll find your smile again - you've looked so sad for so long. Even after all your friends were adopted. Or maybe because of it? I'm sorry we couldn't find you something sooner-" A noise from Bonnie halfway between clearing her throat and growling causes the reptile to jump slightly, and after giving you one last smile she hurries off after her co-worker, her thick tail bouncing along behind her. You're left feeling like a lost child. You're being handed off like a pet to a new owner. Nothing your elders told you could have prepared you for this. Knowing that humanity was well and truly dominated by the beast folk was one thing, being reduced to a lapdog expected to... to what, exactly? You look over as the bear - Ms. Graybark - who's smiling shyly at you from just next to the open door of the pod. Will she be teaching you tricks? To fetch a stick or to dance on command? The dull fear and empty desperation that's been haunting you since you heard your number has been replaced by sheer and utter confusion. Is this humanity's last deed in this universe? To shake paw, roll over and play dead, and then finally be buried with the rest of the dead pets in the backyard? You can tell Ms. Graybark is trying to motion for you to step into the pod, but that she's not quite sure what to do to get your attention. Do you enter? Do you refuse? Maybe this could be the best chance for escape you've ever had, assuming there's anything left to escape to. The thought of being picked up by what could only be called a human catcher and brought back to your master after running away comes off as both the most bizarre thought of your life, yet so absurdly likely after what you've just heard, that you almost burst out laughing for the first time in what feels like your entire life. You feel your body relax, unaware you had been so tense in the first place, and slowly start walking towards the pod. The bear woman shines up and puts one of her paws to her chest. She seems genuinely delighted and relieved as you take your seat on one of the benches. She closes the door and sits down across from you. You look at her, still digesting what your life has come to, as you feel the quiet hum of the detaching mechanism coming to life reverberate throughout the pod. A small buzz and a dull clack and the pod leaves the station. You hear a few sizzles of the debris protection defense system as something is cleared out of your way and then the engines softly roar to life and you're shot off toward whatever comes next. The two of you journey in silence. You can't help but stare at your traveling companion as you try to make sense of things. Ms. Graybark, meanwhile, is fidgeting with her handbag again, her eyes constantly moving between you, her hands, the floor and the window. She's not unpleasant to look at, you remark. In fact, she reminds you of a holotape you used to love as a kid. It was a documentary on forest animals, and there was one part in particular that now comes to mind. It was of two bear cubs play-fighting under the watchful eyes of their mother. Though she reminds you more of the cubs than of the mother. Her features aren't as wild as perhaps you would have expected. Walking on two legs certainly helps, not to mention the expensive-looking dress she's wearing, but it's more than that. Her face is very round, or at least her thick fur makes it look round, with fairly large hazel-colored eyes that are currently displaying a mixture of worry and bridled excitement. Either way she has a very gentle expression, and though her fur is certainly thick it's also short and neat and looks like it's been manicured, with two fluffy ears on the top of her head, standing like small arches. Her snout isn't particularly long, with a dull black nose that twitches ever so often as she works up the courage to look your way again, only to quickly divert her eyes. Her body is surprisingly feminine, with a large bust and wide hips, and though she has something of a plump belly as well that only serves to make her look all the more huggable. Huggable... You realize they've never touched a beast folk before. They've touched you, sure, but you've never touched them. Not that you ever wanted to, but still. You have no idea how her fur might feel, and you find yourself trying to imagine it. Didn't you have a plush toy at some point? "Oh!" she suddenly exclaims, startling you after so long a silence. "There's the Yabara. We'll be using one of it's gate to..." She trails off and looks back at you from the window she's been looking out of. "How much do you know of space travel? I know your kind used-" She stops herself. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be interrupting you. You must have a lot to think about." She smiles again, though somewhat sadly this time, as she straightens her handbag and goes back to looking out the window. You look as well and in the distance you see a massive ship - larger by far than your old home - with hundreds, if not thousands, of smaller ships going to and fro around it. It's shaped like a slightly angular ellipsis, standing on one of its points, with countless tiny windows along its side and maybe 8-or-so really large windows spread around its lower half. These windows, however, appears to be shining and fluctuating in a way you've never seen before - not of windows nor of anything else. Some of the smaller ships make their way into one of them and disappear, yet they don't seem to be docking as they don't slow down much. Are these the gates she mentioned? This is how you're meant to travel? A small light goes on in your head. Do the beast folk have faster than light travel? You remember some of the adults working on it, saying it would change everything; that it would bring you the freedom to go wherever you wanted, and that no beast would ever be able to catch you then. Yet, like so much else, it never amounted to anything. You're not sure they were ever even close, or if it was just one last desperate attempt doomed to fail. She turns back to you, a concerned look on her face. "You might want to fold out the armrests and hold on - it might be a bit rough if you've never jumped before. My first jump scared me half to death! My father had to-" she covers her mouth with one of her hands. "I'm talking too much again. Sorry, I'm just a bit nervous. You're my first human, you know." She smiles again, the fur around her face dancing warmly as if to underline her good intentions, despite how her words came off. "Still, do hold on to something. And don't be afraid; I'm right here with you." Those last words stirred something in you, something you haven't felt for well over a decade. You decide she's probably right and lower the armrests. She seems to be treating it as a regular commute so it can't be that bad, right? Looking out the window you see the almost watery surface of the gate you're heading for come closer and closer. In the middle there's a disturbance, like a vortex but less violent, and it almost seems to suck light into itself seeing as how the very center - not much more than an inch in diameter - looks like a hole in the very fabric of reality. Blacker than you knew black could be. You brace yourself as your pod touches the gate and then, in an instant, you're nowhere and everywhere at once. For a second you forget how to breath and you panic as you can no longer feel your body. Then you're back. In the pod with your bear companion, your body making itself readily known as you clutch the armrests for dear life. Your breath comes in ragged chunks but beyond a mild discomfort and slight nausea you're perfectly fine. "Are you okay?" You can hear the concern in her voice and you nod in answer. She lights up at this and presses her handbag close to her chest, hugging it tight. "I'm glad. You don't seem to hate me." Her smile is almost infectious. Or maybe it's just a sudden appreciation for life after what you just went through. The first you've felt in many months. She seems completely unaffected however, and points out the window for you to look. The view is that of a planet, beautiful in ways you can't describe. Some distant memory of an image of Earth flashes in your mind, but this is so much more than a picture in a book. Like a shining blue and green marble, dancing in the middle of nothing, an oasis in the endless desert of space. You suddenly feel exhausted, whether by the jump or everything else that's happened today you can't tell, but you lean back in your seat and finally relax your grip around the armrests. She looks you over and softly speaks: "You must be tired, right? As I said, my first jump really got to me. My father must have spent an hour trying to calm me down before I fell asleep. All those sensations, and every muscle tensing up - it was too much for me back then." She laughs softly and reaches over to gently pat your knee. You suppress a sudden urge to pull away, a slight spark of fear or uncertainty moving through your leg muscles, but the light touch somehow manages to calm you down all the same. You take a deep breath and lean your head back against the headrest. "Oh, if you can stay awake a little while longer that'd be really helpful. We'll be on the surface in a matter of minutes and my car is right by the terminal. I get the feeling that if you fall asleep now you won't wake up until tomorrow, and I'd have to carry you the rest of the way." She laughs again, and gives you a look as if she wouldn't really mind. Yet you sit back up, feeling like you might as well see this journey to its end before calling it a day. And what a day it's been. ### Day 1 ### You wake up to bird song and light traffic through an open window. The sun is shining in through thin drapes and the air smells of rain. For a moment you find yourself wondering if the station updated their environmental system before it all comes back to you. Instantly wide awake you try to recall everything past the jump. There was the landing, the terminal, waiting for her car to come pick you up, something about fish for dinner - though you don't remember eating - and finally her apartment. She had helped you up the stairs - at that point you had no strength left. She might even have carried you. And then... Did you fall asleep right as you entered her apartment? Before eating dinner? A sudden rumbling in your stomach confirms your suspicion. You try to sit up which is made slightly awkward by the fact that you're on a mattress on the floor in a cramped area, and you have to pull your legs up and lean back to sit comfortably. You suddenly realize you're naked. The off-white uniform of Sunbeam Station is nowhere to be seen, and neither is the yellow undershirt. Not even your underwear were spared. Did she undress you? Like a child who fell asleep during the car ride home and was tucked into bed by its parents. Taken aback you look down and notice a pattern of humans playing - no, frolicking would be a better word - on your cover and mattress alike. She truly sees you as a pet. Now all that's missing is a food bowl on the kitchen floor. You find yourself wondering if she will expect you to beg for a treat when you hear a creaking sound behind you. "Oh, good morning." Ms. Graybark - no wait, she told you her name during the car ride here: Emily - peaks down at you from on top of her bed. Somehow you neglected to notice that your mattress was placed by the foot of her bed, and that it's the bed frame you're now resting your back against. Of course; where else would a pet sleep? You pull your cover tighter around you. She might not care about your nakedness, but you still do. "I hope you slept well," she continues. "The man in the store assured me that the mattress was made especially with humans in mind." It's all so surreal, but at the same time you can't complain. You're rested and relaxed, and aside from the shock of finding yourself naked, you can't remember when you last felt so at peace. Gone is the station and its rigorous routine, gone the alarm that woke you up at 7 am every morning, gone all the doubt and fear and uncertainty. A pet's life is a carefree one, after all. Maybe it wouldn't be the bad. You hear something soft fall to the floor and look over to see Emily changing out of her nightgown. Wearing nothing but a pair of purple panties and with her back turned to you, she bends forward to pick up some piece of clothing or other. Her plump rear at arm's reach, you watch her in a daze as she gets dressed while humming an upbeat song to herself. Finally she pulls a scarlet shirt over her head and, after adjusting the belt in her jeans, turns to you. "You must be so hungry. You fell asleep the second I opened the door and didn't even get to eat dinner." She looks at you with a carefree smile, seemingly oblivious to what you just saw. You nod stiffly, unable to answer her in words. She clasps her hands with a smile and continues: "I'll get started right away then. Would you prefer eggs and bacon or pancakes?" Unable to quite get the image of what you just saw out of your head you find yourself answering 'either'. Emily practically jumps at the spot at hearing you speak for the first time, her hands fly up and she lets out a soft yell. She then walks up to you, bends down, and hugs you tight. You weren't prepared for this. Her warm body envelops you in an instant, her large arms behind your back and her soft breast pushed up against your chest and face. You're stunned. Unable to move or to think, all you do is breath in her warm, flowery smell. Your mind seems caught between wanting to run for cover, and wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. After a few seconds, or a few hours, she lets go of you and walks out of the room, saying something you're unable to decipher in your current state of mind. You look after her as she walks off, her hips and stubby tail swaying to whatever song she's happily humming. You fall back on your mattress, trying to regain yourself. Minutes go by as you lay there, listening to the bustle from the kitchen as she prepares breakfast for the two of you. Your mind is playing back memories of your childhood, trying desperately to find some comparison. It comes up blank. There was that one time when you fell off the bed and broke your arm. One of the women had hugged you tight and held you until you stopped crying. But this was different. This... stirred some other part of you, in a way you didn't quite understand. Seeing her almost naked had nearly short circuited your brain... or... maybe it had awoken some dormant part of you. One you hadn't been aware of until now. You think back to the maternity lab of what was once your home. The last generation they had started calling you after realizing there was nothing to be done about the generator. You knew about sex of course, as there was plenty of mentions of it in books and even in some of the last holotapes you watched before the rec room was shut down. But it all seemed so distant. Not that there had been any chances to explore the concept back then, or indeed on the station, but you had almost started seeing it as an archaic way of propagating the species. The lab had seen like a much easier alternative. "Are you up yet?" comes the cheerful voice of Emily from the door. You sit up as she enters the room. "It's almost ready, eggs and bacon - and pancakes. I-" Suddenly she raises both of her hands to her face. "Your clothes! Oh, of course! I'm so sorry, I completely forgot. Wait just a minute!" She's gone in an instant. You hear her running through the room outside, stopping, fighting with a plastic bag, dropping something to the floor and finally running back to the bedroom. "I'm so sorry," she repeats while catching her breath. "Of course you need some clothes. I was told your measurements ahead of time so these should fit you." She hands you a stack of clothes and looks at you. You look back. "D-Do you not like them?" she asks, slowly, looking at the stack and then at you. Is she expecting you to put them on now, in front of her? You look down at the cover over your legs and back up at her, your nakedness suddenly in stark focus. She's looking at you with worry in her eyes and one hand pressed against her lips as if stopping herself from saying something. Suddenly she gasps. "Oh, the pancakes!" She rushes out of the room, leaving you to yourself. Finally in full control of yourself again you seize the moment and get dressed before she returns. After putting on the last sock you stand up and look at yourself. The clothes are a perfect fit. You didn't even know they had measure you, not that it matters. The quality seems really high as well, from what little knowledge you have of these things. The fabric in the shirt is soft but feels strong and durable, and the dark-gray color looks appealing. The jeans are pretty much what you'd expect after all the times you've read about them. Maybe a bit softer than what some stories had you believe. "You put them on!" Emily is back, relief in her voice and a big smile on her face. "Do you like them?" "Yes," you admit, and before you're able to say anything else she's pulled you in for another hug. "Oh, I'm so happy! For a moment I thought you didn't like them, but I guess you were still a bit sleepy?" She relaxes her hug and you pull your head back from between her breasts to look up at her. "It's okay; yesterday must have been hard on you. I understand. And you missed dinner!" She lets you go, but takes your hand in hers and pulls on it lightly. "Come now, breakfast's waiting." You follow her out into the living room and past that to the kitchen, quite unable to keep yourself from watching the rhythmic movements of her tail as she guides you. Finally you sit down at the loaded table, your stomach eager to get started, but your eyes still follow Emily as she takes her seat across from you. "Help yourself," she says with a smile, and you can't help but to smile back. She drops her fork and nearly starts crying, putting her hands on either side of her snout, just barely managing to keep herself together. "Please," she finally says, her voice wavering slightly. "Before it gets cold." Some time later you put down your fork, more than satisfied. Whether it was your hunger or her cooking that made everything taste so good, the food had a quality to it that you don't remember experiencing at the station. You drain your glass of water and lean back in your chair. She finished before you and is already taking care of the dishes, back to humming that same song from before. As you're watching her work, her hips swaying this way and that as she moves between the sink and the dishwasher; her tail bobbing up and down as she bends over to put something away, she suddenly looks back at you. "Are you done?" she asks with a smile, standing back up. You nod and make a move to grab your plate and bring it to her, but she's already collecting your dishes and the leftover pancakes. "Oh, don't worry about it," she coos at your effort. "Thank you though. Did you like it?" "Yes," you say, though you have a feeling she can already tell from how much you ate. She giggles and puts her elbow around you, squeezing you head between her arm and breast in a quick hug. "After I'm done here," she starts as she's walking back to the sink, "I was thinking we could have a talk. Yesterday must have been overwhelming for you and there wasn't any time to get to know each other." You nod again, but to her back this time and a small tinge of panic fills you as the silence after her request grows. You finally muster an unsteady 'okay', and as she turns around you manage a weak smile to underline your reply. You have no idea how old she is, anywhere from 30 to 60 or even older - do beast folk even age like humans? Yet at this moment, as she's practically bouncing on her heels with a big, sunny smile on her fuzzy face, she reminds you of one of your childhood friends: Susan. She was one of the first to leave the station, mere months after your arrival. It suddenly hits you that she might not be dead. You had written her off - you had written them all off - but maybe they had simply been adopted as well? Isn't that what Vizy told you? Maybe, just like you, they were now living with some beast folk or other, very much alive and safe? You suddenly feel queasy as your mind tries to reorient itself. A soft hand on your forehead makes you jump as you look up into Emily's concerned eyes. "Are you okay?" she asks, her warm hand is steady as she brushes back your hair and looks you over, but her voice is shaky. "I'm fine", you reply. You can feel your breathing slow to its normal pace under her delicate touch, but there are still memories gnawing at the back of your mind. "Come, I'll do the rest later." She tries to sound cheerful as she effortlessly lifts you out of your chair and puts you on your feet. She takes your hand and leads you over to the couch, sitting down next to you as you take your seat. Her weight makes a noticeable depression in the soft fabric and you feel yourself tilting suddenly toward her. You try to straighten yourself but she lays an around your shoulders and you're left with no choice but to rest your head against her sizable chest. She lays her other hand on your knee. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," she says, finally breaking the silence, "I've been studying for this for nearly two years now, and I know strays can come with a history." You stir. Strays? "It's okay; I picked you specifically, so don't think you're being a burden. If it takes some time for you to come to trust me, I'm willing to wait." She rubs, or perhaps pets, you knee. Despite the warm embrace and her gentle tone you can't let go of that word. "...Strays?" you finally ask her. "Oh, right. Well..." Her hand on your knee stops and she hesitates for a moment. Yet when she continues her voice is as bright as ever. "Humans who were born free, outside of a reservation, are referred to as strays. It's really not a big deal; it just means they haven't been socialized." You feel her move and look up at her. Her hazel eyes have an almost calming effect on you, and, as your mind is processing what you just heard, just having her look at you with such warmth makes her words seem a lot less bizarre than what they probably are. "Speaking of which," she muses, curiosity playing across her face. "I only ever got your ID: 7989-72. Do you have a name?" A name... Out of all the things she's said, this was somehow the most strange. Of course, you do have one. Or you did, an age and a life ago. It somehow doesn't feel like yours anymore. "I was thinking," she starts after a moment of silence, and quickly adds: "if it's alright with you of course, that I could give you one." There's a cautious smile on her lips, but you can tell she's thought about this before. She waits for a moment before continuing. "I was thinking... Elliot." Elliot. Emily and Elliot. You almost feel like laughing and she seems to take your faint smile as a good sign. She pulls you onto her lap and lays your head firmly against her chest before saying: "Of course, you don't have to humor me. But... maybe just for a while?" Sitting in her arms like this, breathing in her sunny smell; the alluring softness of her breasts against your chest and face, you feel like you could agree to anything. Maybe one day you'll tell her your real name, but for now you're Elliot. For a moment all your worries melt away and the day feel just a bit brighter. Even after you're interrupted by a relaxed jingle from the other room and Emily lifts you off her lap, telling you it's probably a client and that she has to take it, the feeling remains. You watch her hurry over to her office, adjusting her jeans as she goes, and disappear through the open door. Her voice comes through clear and you listen in as she explains that she's not where she wants to be but that she'll certainly meet the deadline. It's a short call and she's soon back, looking at you from the door frame. "I have some work to do - I'm behind on a commission..." She trails off and continues looking at you. After a moment or two she asks: "Are you okay?" "I am," you answer, this time without needing to fake a smile. She smiles back, clearly relieved, before continuing: "If there's anything you need, just tell me. I'll keep the door open." Then she turns around and walks back into her office and you're left to your own devices for what feels like the first time in forever. Not that you didn't spend most of your time on the station in solitude, but this is different somehow. The station came to feel dull and lifeless, and even the people there seemed like gray shadows caught in an endless repetition of simulated life. You hadn't been so much alone as you had been just going through the motions of yet another identical day, every artificial sunrise another dull reminder that you were stuck in place until they deemed otherwise. You sit up and shake your head. The sunlight through the many windows in her living room had grown fainter as you had lost yourself in thought, as if a dark cloud had overtaken the sun. You need something else to distract yourself with and so you look around the room you've been left in. The floor is of a light wood and the walls a pleasant pastel green. The furniture all match each other, made of dark wood or painted in rich brown colors. You're reminded of the expensive-looking dress Emily was wearing when you first saw her. The station had been richly decorated as well, but this felt more genuine. Like it was actually meant to be lived in. You could tell she had money, or whatever else it took in beast society to be on top of things. From what you remember of the city from the trip here everything had been clean and orderly, pleasantly decorated and with lots of greenery, and yet some houses were clearly fancier than others. You wondered for a moment if there were poorer areas hidden somewhere under that polished surface or they had it all figured out. Looking around closer to the burgundy couch you're seated in you spot a yellow paper on the short glass table with dark-wood supports in front of it, sticking out from a well-read book labeled 'Art styles through the ages'. You take a closer look and read 'Sunbeam Station: Adopt a stray today!' Pulling the pamphlet out you're able to see a logo of a smiling sun cradling what looks like a young human - an image that doesn't quite sit right with you, though you can't remember seeing it anywhere on the inside of the station itself. You read on: 'Through our almost 200-year history Sunbeam Station has consistently held the position of a market leader. Through hard work and groundbreaking research we have developed one of the best model for safe and humane treatment of strays and delinquents alike. These humans, though not socialized, come with our guarantee of peaceful and respectful behavior. If you think your home might be just the place to house one of these wonderful specimens, read on!' Next comes a list of traits for those that wish to adapt a stray: 'Lots of free time, preferably working from home; warm and caring personality; likes a challenge.' You put the paper back approximately where you found it with a mechanical stiffness. There was more writing but you don't feel up to the task right now. It feels like something finally clicked: the scale of it all; the factuality of the system in place. You weren't an outlier or caught up in weird circumstances; this is how it works now. You should probably be angry - furious even - but at whom? All your upbringing you were told that the beast folk was after you, that after your ship had launched only a single message from Earth had reached it, telling you that humanity was under attack and that you were on your own. That was all. You had seen it one day, during one of the lessons. Less that 30 seconds, received centuries ago. The only communication from Earth your ship ever received after leaving the planet's immediate range. Every theory you heard was that the beast folk, as they had been called in that message, were the aggressors and that humanity lost the fight. Why they wanted Earth - or humanity for that matter - never had a happy ending in those stories. You had grown up with an ever-present fear of being chased by something you couldn't see, and when they finally found your ship you were in no state to even attempt resistance. You had simply accepted that this was the end, only to be proven wrong. Yet no amount of artificial security could shake that childhood fear and no amount of colorful gardens could keep out the gray thoughts that lived in your head. It wasn't until you met Emily that color had started to return to you, however slightly. You consider what you know of this world. The beast folk clearly won, whatever lead up to it. You had no reason to distrust your elders, or indeed the message from Earth, yet why had they attacked? To turn you all into pets? That doesn't seem like the full story. Had humanity attacked a vastly superior foe? That wouldn't make any sense. There was something missing - some crucial detail. You lean back against the soft fabric. You need answers, and you're not going to find them in marketing material. Emily might be able to answer some questions and yet she's one of them. As friendly as she's been she might not give you the full picture - if she even knows it. What you really need is to talk to another human. But how? The thought of running away crosses your mind but something holds you back. Not only does it feel futile to even try - they'd probably catch you within minutes - but the thought of worrying Emily is somehow worse still. Whatever happens between beast folk and humans, she's not to blame and she has been nothing but kind and supportive so far. No, if anything she could probably help you. There must be another human living somewhere close - maybe even in this very building. Your mind is racing with questions and speculative answers and you hardly notice her approach until the couch rocks as she sits down next to you. "Are you hungry?" she asks, putting a hand on your knee and rubbing it gently. "Not really," you reply, vividly remembering her pancakes from what feels like only an hour ago at most. "Oh? Well you did eat a lot for breakfast." She laughs and stands back up, stretching her upper body. "It's nearly 1 though and I don't want to eat too late. Perhaps you can work up an appetite by helping me prepare?" She reaches a hand out for you and you take it without hesitation. As you follow her to the kitchen you make up your mind: somehow you must find and talk to another human. Preferably without any beast folk around, though that might prove to be the trickiest part. Until then you might as well get used to living here, with her. There are worse places to be after all. You agreed to help her make lunch but you mostly watch. Having never had to cook your own meal before you don't know the way around a kitchen outside of what you remember of your early years from watching one of the adults on the ship, and that was nothing like this. Yet she doesn't seem to mind, happily showing you how the stove works and how to best re-heat fish. It's the leftovers from yesterday, what she had prepared for you in case you'd wake up, as well as a fresh one that she says you can have. She asks you to make the table and before long you're seated around it once again. You eat mostly in silence, though she asks you more than once if the food is to your liking and smiles warmly each time you answer some variation of 'yes'. After the meal you help her put away the dishes, for which she pats your head and gives you a long hug. "Oh, I almost forgot," she says as she lets you go. "I bought more than just the one set of clothes you're wearing. In fact I ordered a whole bunch, but I don't think they'll all suit you." She looks you up and down. "I might have gone a bit crazy and overdone it," she laughs, "but I was thinking you could pick out some pieces you like and then I'll send the rest back." "Sure," you answer, feeling the change of pace might be a nice distraction from your chaotic thoughts. "Of course," she adds, "if we're sending some of them back you should probably take a bath first." "O-Okay," you say, suddenly slightly less sure of yourself. She walks over to the bathroom that she pointed out to you before breakfast and you hesitate a moment before following. She's already inside, pressing a few buttons on the control panel of her bathtub. Some unseen pump whirls into action and the bathtub rapidly starts to fill. Shortly after it stops, the tub now being filled about a third of the way, and she turns to you, holding a plastic bottle and a bar of soap. "Put your clothes on the rack; they shouldn't be dirty yet." You look over toward the door and the empty shelf you noticed during your earlier visit. She's asking you to undress in front of her, in a similar casual tone to when she asked you to dress this morning, and once again you're not sure what to do. You realize you'll have to tell her that you'd rather take a bath by yourself, but as you turn around she has already undone her belt and is pulling down her pants. You stare as she folds up her jeans and puts them away. Her purple panties clinging to her body, the silken fabric ruffling her brown fur just around its edges in a way that only serve to highlight her curves. They seem to small for her large frame with the way they ride up her butt. You notice there's a small cutout on the back to allow for her tail to poke through, with a dark-purple ribbon tied just above, looking somehow both cute and sexy. She turns to find you staring at her plump butt yet makes no sign that she's bothered by it. "I have some more work to do after this..." she starts, as she pulls off her shirt. Her generous bust playfully bouncing back into place as she puts her shirt on top of her pants. The bra matches her panties not just in color but also in the decorative ribbon tied in the middle, right between her heavy, inviting breasts. Her underwear might be of a modest design but there's no hiding her curves nor the allure of her smooth, silken fur as it's presented in such a way. "Oh, come on now," she says, a playful but urging tone in her voice, but you can't tear your eyes away from the sexy bear woman in front of you. Finally she grabs your shirt and pulls it over your head. You're frozen in place, not just from the sudden undressing but more so from the closeness to her. As she bent down to grab the hem of your shirt you got a wonderful view of her cleavage and as the shirt came off you got to see her breasts dance and jiggle right in front of your eyes. Your pulse is racing, your face feels hot and your pants tight. Your pants! She's on your belt, there's no way she won't notice. You panic, but there's no time. Your pants are going down and your underwear with them. "Oh!" she exclaims, only now realizing her position. "Oh dear," she adds, standing back up and looking down at your erection. Your mind is a mess with arousal, fear, anxiety and embarrassment all jumbled together. She looks up and meet your eyes, one of her hands are by her mouth and there's a concerned look on her face. Yet before long it fades and she puts on a gentle expression as she clasps her hands in front of her belly. "It's okay," she starts. "You don't have to be embarrassed. I've read about this - though I wasn't... I wasn't quite expecting it." She smiles. "I seem to have forgotten it, but you are a man of your species. It's not unusual for strays to... to show certain..." She stops herself, clearly trying to pick her next words carefully. "Don't worry about it; it's perfectly normal," she finally says. "After we're done here you can... take some time for yourself, if you want. But for now..." She motions for you to get in the tub, apparently satisfied she cleared up the misunderstanding. You're in too much of a shock to argue, and nearly get in with your socks still on. "Oh, I'll take those," she says, putting them on top of the rest of your clothes. "Now let's get you washed up." It finally dawns on you that she intends on being the one to wash you. You would have stopped her; told her that you'd wash yourself, if not for a part of you urging you otherwise. As embarrassing as this whole ordeal has been, that part wants to feel her touch, even in a situation such as this. As she's reading the instructions on the plastic bottle you try to relax in the warm water that's reaching to just below your waist. You remember a similar moment from your childhood, with one of the adults on the ship washing you after you had tripped while carrying your food tray. Of course, you weren't trying your best to hide your erection with your hands at that time. She lets out a 'hmm' and then says, as if to herself: "This seems to work just like regular shampoo, though only for you hair? Oh, of course - that's why I needed soap, too..." She kneels down next to the tub and reaches for the shower head. After checking the temperature she starts wetting your hair. "You'll have to tell me if I do something wrong," she says in her usual warm tone, putting down the shower head and squirting some shampoo into her hand. "This is my first time washing a human, after all." She starts massaging your scalp with long and gentle strokes, taking her time and making sure to get around to every part of your hair. As she's working on your neck you feel yourself relaxing under her tender care. Your hands are still resting in your lap, but your embarrassment doesn't seem as much of a concern at the moment. "I was a bit worried," she says as her thumb washes the hair behind your ear, "that hair would be different to fur, but it seems to behave more or less the same." Before long she's done and you close your eyes as you feel the warm water from the shower head rinsing out your hair. She turns the water off again and you hear her move to grab the bar of soap. Soon her hands are on your shoulders, rubbing them gently but firmly with the lathered soap. Your body softly rocks back and forth and you feel like you could fall asleep like this, attended by Emily's warm touch. She seems to stay on your shoulders for quite a while, but you don't mind. "I've never really touched a human before..." she says quietly. "Your skin is so smooth; nothing like dense fur. I mean, of course it is, but- Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot what I was doing." She laughs, though you notice an ever so slight stiffness to her voice. When she finally moves on she pulls at each of your arms in turn, washing and rinsing them before moving on to your chest. "Lean forward," you hear her say and you do as you're told. She washes your back, her fur acting like a silken sponge, gently brushing your skin in soothing motions. When she starts on your stomach you can tell she's suddenly a bit tense. You open your eyes and look down, noticing that your hands have moves from your lap, and that you weren't as relaxed as you had thought. You quickly cover yourself up again but she just smiles, though - for once - seemingly sharing in some of your embarrassment. After washing your legs she hands you the soap, thankfully leaves your privates for you to wash yourself. She even looks away, fidgeting with the shampoo bottle as you finish up. Once done she asks you to stand and she rinses you once more before you get out of the tub so she can drain it. You feel much more at peace than when she started, perhaps getting used to constantly being wrapped up by her gentle pace, or maybe just feeling her motherly touch has that effect on you. As she hands you a towel you notice that she's still showing some signs of embarrassment, and as she's starting to get dressed her movements are a bit quicker and clumsier than before. "I'll put the clothes on the bed and you can get to them when you're done here," she says as she turns to you. "I'll be in my office if you need anything," she adds with a smile before turning and walking off. You're left by yourself, and you take your time drying and getting dressed, still vividly remembering her fuzzy hands caressing your skin. Later you're standing in front of her bed, on which a whole bunch of clothes are laid out. She wasn't exaggerating when she said she bought too much, you think to yourself, as you count the shirts. 26 in total, with plenty of pants and underwear on top of that. You're used to putting on clean clothes every day from the station, but it was always the same outfit. The bed before you reminds you of a painter's palette, dressed in all the colors of the rainbow, and you're almost overwhelmed by it all. You pick up a maroon shirt and look closer at it. It's of the same simple yet high-quality design as what you're wearing, and you decide to try it on. Time passes quickly as you try out almost every piece, taking an odd sort of pleasure in the mundane task. You haven't really been allowed to decide anything for yourself, whether by station rules or ship scarcity, for a long time. It was always just what it was, and you had grown to accept the status quo. This, as small a thing as it was, still felt fresh and exciting to you. It wasn't long until you had picked out a little pile of what you wanted to keep, hoping Emily wouldn't mind if you, too, went a bit overboard. "Is that all?" she asked as she entered the bedroom not longer after, looking over your handiwork. "You can keep a few more, if you want." She smiles at you warmly, but you can tell she's a bit tired. You look over at some of the clothes that didn't make the cut because you didn't want to impose, thinking you had already picked out too many, as she puts on of her big hands on your shoulder. "You can have all of those, too." You look up at her as she rubs your shoulder lovingly. "You're going to live here now - you'll need enough for this and that - and it's still much less than half. I really did overdo it." She giggles as she pulls you in for hug. "It's a good thing the bed is full of clothes or I might just have laid down for a nap. This commission is killing me... Oh, but you don't want to hear about that." Even with your face comfortably in her cleavage, her soft fur gently tickling your skin, you kind of do. "What... do you do for a living?" you ask, half-muffled by the bear hug. "I'm a painter," she answers. "I mostly work with commissions these days, though. It's not as interesting but it pays the bills." "Can I see?" "Oh, sure, if you want to." She looks less tired when she lets go of you, more relaxed somehow, and leads you by your hand to her office. As you enter you're taken aback by the many paintings hung on or leaning against the walls. You've never seen such a busy room and it's hard to know where to start looking. "This is what I'm currently working on. It's for the waiting room in a dentist's office. She requested something simple, muted and with flowers." Emily points at the painting sitting on the easel by the window. It's very much as she described it: a simple still-life painting in slightly muted colors of a flowerpot holding some red and purple flowers you don't know the name of. It looks very pleasant, though not particularly interesting. "It looks good," you finally say, unsure of what else you could add. "Thanks." She smiles at you before continuing: "It's nothing special, since Dr. Mossbeak rejected my first idea. That's why it's been so hard to paint - nothing about it grabs me." She puts one of her hands under her chin and tilts her head, staring at the painting with a frown on her face. You look around the room a bit, on the busy workbench and shelves with all manner of paint and tools, on the many sketches and paintings littering the room, until one piece catches your attention. It's a much more colorful painting, yet with a much darker background and starker contrasts. It's another still-life, but there's some energy to it that you didn't feel from her current work. You feel like you've seen something similar before, in some old book. "Oh, that one?" you hear her say. She picks it up and puts it an empty easel in a corner. "This was meant for an exhibition that never happened, based around the human classical era." She looks at you. "Do you know of it?" "I've seen paintings like this... in a book," you answer. "No wonder, you humans did a lot of beautiful art in the past." She looks almost sad for a while. "It's a shame what happened." "W-What happened?" You look at her, all your senses at high alert. "Oh!" she exclaims, looking suddenly worried. "I didn't mean it like that, it just seemed like you humans did most of your art in the past, before we met you." She clasps her hands in front of her chest. "There are still humans artists today - like Dokav Redfield's human... Oh, what was her name again... Alisa? Alice? Something on A. She's been part of Dokav's work for many years now." Emily is fidgeting with her hands, seemingly taken by surprise by the topic. You don't feel like she's lying, but maybe she's not telling you the full story. "Is... Earth still around?" Your heart is beating fast. "Of course it is." She smiles, and you feel yourself breathing easy again. "We even send regular shipments there - food and resources; whatever's needed. We've had a peace treaty for centuries now." With that you can tell she'd rather move on and she puts the old painting back to where you found it before turning to you again. "Are you hungry? It's time for dinner, and I was hoping you could give me hand." She reaches out her hand for you, but you hesitate. "Don't worry, I can tell you more about Earth later if you want. I honestly don't know that much myself, it's been a long time since I read about it in school. What do you say we research it together?" You take her hand. Her voice is still warm and gentle, and despite your worry you can't find any reason to doubt her intent. You smile back at her before answering: "I'd like that." You follow her out to the kitchen to help her prepare dinner. The rest of the evening is uneventful. You decide not to press the topic of Earth any further, still set on finding a human so you can get some real answers. Emily does most of the work again, but you try your best with the simpler tasks to help her out. After dinner - fish again - you're both yawning. You were thinking you'd take care of the washing up but she puts her hands on your shoulders and stops you. "Thank you, but we can leave it for tomorrow. I'm really tired, aren't you?" You look at her and nod. "Let's head to bed then," she says, giving you a quick hug. You follow her to the bedroom and are immediately reminded of your mattress by the foot of her bed. You can't help but to feel a bit odd as you look at the pattern of frolicking humans. "You know," she says, and you turn to see her watching you. "Why don't you sleep with me tonight?" "W-What?" You stammer, thinking you misheard her. "Well, you just arrived yesterday - I was thinking it could be a bonding exercise. Do you... not want to?" Emily looks a bit sad, her ears sagging slightly on top of her fuzzy head. "I do," you quickly say, your pulse racing. She perks right up with a warm smile as she quickly gathers up the clothes still on her bed and move them to on top of a cabinet, putting them in two piles for keeping and returning. She then starts undressing herself, and you realize you better do the same unless you want a repeat of earlier. She might even change her mind if you show her another erection, so instead of watching her undress you quickly strip down to your underwear and get into bed while she's putting away her clothes and her back is turned. You lay on your side, facing away from her, your mind switching between excitement and worry. It's not long before you feel the bed shake as she lays down next to you, turning your way and putting her arm around you. You feel her other arm by your neck and you raise your head so she can slip it underneath. Your heart is beating up a storm as her silken fur envelops you and her soft breasts push against your back. You feel her head above yours as she pulls you in closer, her warmth covers you like a blanket, somehow both wonderfully soothing and highly arousing. She's always been very physical but you still weren't expecting to be so closer to her, with nothing but a thin, silken nightgown between your back and her breasts. You try your best to steady your breathing, not wanting her to notice your excited state. "Goodnight, Elliot," you hear her whisper, her voice slow and relaxed. "Goodnight, Emily," you reply, hoping your voice doesn't betray her effect on you, and wondering if you're going to be able to get any sleep tonight. ### Day 2 ### You wake up bright and early to a world at peace. The sun is shining in through the bedroom window, casting warm light through the thin orange drapes, painting the room in a heavenly glow. Your body is warm and relaxed, still wrapped in Emily's gentle embrace, and your mind is rested and calm. You don't remember falling asleep, but you do remember listening to her breathing and trying your best not to focus on the feel of her breasts against your back. The delicate floral fragrance of her perfume is all around you, on her bed and its luxurious sheets; hanging in the still air of her bedroom; and now also on you, as you lay there, unwilling to move as much as a muscle lest you stir her to waking. This close to her, with your nose practically in the fur of her arm under your head, you notice a new smell beneath the old. More earthen and wild, less like the perfectly mixed aroma of her perfume, and more... natural. More her. After anything from a few minutes to an hour you feel her move beside you, breaking your accidental meditation. She's waking up and you feel her nuzzle your hair before letting you go to stretch her arms. "Good morning," she whispers, still half asleep. "Good morning, Emily," you answer, wishing she'd stay a bit longer before getting up. She seems to be thinking the same as she wraps her arms around you again, spending a few more minutes with you in restful bliss. Yet before long she takes a deep breath and sits up, breaking the spell. She gets out of bed as you sit up. "Time to get up," she says, and she teasingly pulls the cover away from you, letting the cool air of the room wash over your warm skin. "Oh!" She throws the cover back to you, making sure it covers your crotch. "Again...?" She's fidgeting with the hem of her nightgown, causing her large bust to jiggle under the thin fabric. But she soon straightens herself up and turns to her closet, apparently decided to just ignore it. As she's pulling on her nightgown you can tell she's a bit hesitant, however, suddenly self-conscious of her state of dress, and she makes sure to have her back turned toward you as she changes into her clothes for the day. "I'll start breakfast," she says as she walks out the door, her voice now bright and cheerful. You take a moment longer, waiting until you've calmed down before getting up yourself. During your meal she's working on a PDA with quick taps and swipes on its screen between thoughtful looks to the refrigerator. "What are you doing?" you ask between bites. "Writing a shopping list. I was thinking I'd go to the store today - maybe you'd like to come, too?" Emily looks at you excitedly. "Sure." You answer without fully registering the question, but with an immediate desire of meeting - or even just seeing - another human. Shopping - this could be a perfect opportunity. You attempt to go through the questions you most want answered, but the more you try to spell them out, the more confused you feel. Outside of Emily and her apartment nothing feels certain. Your life on the station seems like a distant past, and though your memories are still vivid they somehow feel out of place. As if it was something you read about, without ever knowing the full context. But now, perhaps, you'd have a chance at learning that context, however many questions it might take. The possibilities of what you might learn surge through your brain and you tense up, both wanting and not wanting to hear the answers. About an hour later you're standing by the front door of the apartment, waiting for Emily to collect her things. As she's looking for her wallet in various drawers you're nervously walking back and forth in the vestibule, getting used to the shoes she's bought for you. A perfect fit, of course, and very comfortable. Yet you can't shake the feeling that maybe staying home would be better. It's certainly not because of the shoes, nor the steel-blue sweater you picked out from the pile of clothes, and not even the fact that she insisted on brushing your hair. It's the world outside the door, and the answers it may hold. This apartment already feels more like home than the station ever did, and leaving it now, for the first time, fills you with a cold, empty dread. Even your desire to learn about your role in this society fades, giving way for thoughts that ask if maybe you should just accept your place and be happy with what you have. That familiar gray dullness encroaching on the edge of your vision, you take a deep breath and try to bring yourself back to the present. "Found it!" she shouts from the bedroom, quickly making her way to where you're waiting, giving your mind a much-needed reprieve. She sits down and puts on her shoes, and as you watch her stuff her furry feet into shoes that look far too small but apparently fit her perfectly, you can already feel some of the anxiety settling down. "Finally," she says, smiling at you as she's standing up. "Sorry for the wait - it was in my other bag." She laughs as she unlocks the door and swings it open. You step out into a bright stairway you only barely remember from the trip here. White stone stairs with dark wood handrails, lit by expensive-looking lanterns decorating the faintly yellow walls. Another reminder that you're in the rich part of town. "Oh no, the keys..." you hear her mumble as she's going through her handbag. "Oh, I'm sorry - I'll be just a moment." She walks back in and starts taking off her shoes, leaving you feeling out of place in this environment. You hear her rummage through one of the drawers she was already in while looking for her wallet, when suddenly a click from the door to your side makes you jump. Out comes a large horse man, clad in a blue-black three-piece suit. "Hmm?" He turns to you with a casual interest, icy blue eyes observing you through thin, round spectacles. "Ah, you must be Emily's new human," he says as he notices the open door to her apartment. "Pleasure to meet you." He smile and nods your way, and you return a meek 'you too'. "Rebecca, come here for a moment, would you?" He calls into his apartment and before long a woman shows up in the doorway. A human woman. She's no older than yourself, clad in a dark-red pantsuit with a rose-colored shirt underneath. She's wearing sparkling earrings and her hair looks almost unnaturally styled, with auburn corkscrew locks spiraling down toward copper eyeshadow over blue eyes. She looks a world apart from how you feel, smiling brightly at her owner. "This is Emily's new human, why don't you introduce yourself?" the horse man then looks at you and says: "I'm afraid I'm on a very tight schedule, but it was nice meeting you," before he walks down the stairs and disappears from view. "So you're the stray?" Rebecca's voice is much colder than her warm appearance led you to believe. She's watching you through narrowed eyes, her smile long gone. "Y-Yes, I am. My name is Elliot." "I see..." She crosses her arms before continuing. "I'm Rebecca Steelhoof of Green Valley Estate." "Green Valley-" you start, and she cuts you off: "Yes, Green Valley Estate. It's the finest reservation in the Ursavius system; I'd have thought even a stray would have heard of it." You're stunned. Not just by her words, but also by the sharpness to them. Like she can't wait to be rid of you. You try to structure your thoughts, to recall at least one of the many questions that seemed overwhelming in their number just minutes ago, but she seems set on ending this conversation early. "Look, I can't be seen fraternizing with a stray, as I'm sure you understand. They must have covered that on the correctional station you come from, no? My pedigree is one in a million." Before you're able to respond, or even fully register what she said, she suddenly shines up, putting on a warm and sunny smile. "Hello, Ms. Graybark." "Oh, hello Rebecca." Emily is standing behind you, holding the lost keys in her hand. "I see you've met Elliot - how nice!" "Are you going out?" Rebecca asks, voice as sweet as honey. "Yes, we're going shopping. Elliot's first time since his arrival." "Wonderful. Well, I won't hold you then, have a very pleasant day, Ms. Graybark, Elliot." And as sudden as she appeared, she's gone. Emily locks the door to her apartment and turns to you, saying: "Lovely, isn't she?" You spend the car ride to the store in a haze, feeling like a door had just been opened only for the floor to fall out from underneath you as you tried to step though it. There was a human living right next door to you, and yet she might as well be living on the other side of the solar system for what it's worth. She had shut you down before you could even ask a single question, and made it crystal clear that she wanted nothing to do with you. That you weren't worthy of her time. Are all humans like that now? She had acted so sweet the moment Emily had appeared behind you, yet she couldn't spare an ounce of that kindness on one of her own kind. 'Pedigree' she had said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to mention, right after calling you stray. Emily had called you the same, yet there had been compassion in her voice when she had said it - not hostility. You had thought strays were pitied, or at most avoided, but now it seemed as if they were looked down on like some sort of disease-ridden lower class. Will you never be able to find anyone willing to talk to you unless you somehow shake this label first? Your head is spinning, disjointed thoughts trying to find a match, like a jigsaw puzzle made out of mismatched pieces. It's not until you feel Emily's hand on your knee that you realize the car has stopped, and you're sitting in the parking lot of a giant building bearing the words 'Forest Den' in lime-green letters. "We're here," she says cheerily, opening the door on her side and getting out. You do the same, though much slower, taking a deep breath as you close the car door behind you, trying to settle your thoughts. The car makes a soft beep as the doors lock and you instinctively follow Emily toward the store, her presence the only thing holding you together. Once inside you receive another shock. Around you are dozens of humans, and probably hundreds of beast folk. The building seems to go on forever, with nothing but shelves upon shelves of boxes, bottles, jar and other items of every kind in every color. Yet it's not the inventory that draws you attention, or even the busy crowds themselves, but specifically the behavior of the humans. Dressed mostly in fine clothing, many with jewelry and expensive-looking accessories, as if they all went shopping right after a high-class dinner party. You stare at them, but not a single one as much as glances in your direction, instead having eyes for nothing but their... owners. Many are darting back and forth between their shopping cart and the shelves, bringing in items as a dog would bring back a thrown stick. You see a middle-aged man handing a small package to a bear who takes it and pats the man's head as if rewarding a job well done, with the man seemingly reduced to a child by the action, smiling amost gleefully. The scene is almost comedic, like something you'd see in a children's cartoon, but it leaves a sickening feeling in your stomach all the same. Meanwhile Emily is happily pushing around the shopping cart, crossing off items on her list one by one and talking about what to cook for dinner, more than once asking you what you want to eat. You manage a few weak responses, but mostly stay quiet as you watch the day-to-day activities of those around you. She doesn't seem to mind, but presently she stops, takes your hands and bends down to be at eye level with you. "You don't have to be afraid. I know this is all new to you, but I'm here for you. You can tell me anything that's bothering you." Emily's kind smile brings some semblance of order to the chaos inside you, and without thinking you hug her. She's surprised at first, unused to you being so forward perhaps, before wrapping her big arms around you and holding you close. "It's okay, Elliot," she whispers in your ear. "I should have known taking you to such a big store might be too much for you this early." "It's... not that," you reply, your voice strained and muffled by her thick fur. "What is it, then?" "Can we... talk when we come back home?" 'Home'. You has said it without even realizing. "Of course." She holds you close, gives you a kiss on the cheek, and then lets you go. You spend the rest of the time walking close to Emily's side, watching the other shoppers. It all seems less serious now, as if a veil had been drawn or you were watching it all from far away. At one point a woman saw you looking at her, gave you a friendly nod, and then immediately went back to checking of a list while her owner was going through the contents of their shopping cart. It all seemed perfectly normal to them, as if it was all a well-rehearsed play that you had somehow stumbled into without knowing. But you knew it wasn't a play. The trip back was spent in silence. Emily didn't seem willing to bother you with any questions, waiting instead for when you got home. But you could tell she worried about you, frequently glancing over to where you sat in the seat next to her, taking your hand and holding it as the car found its way homeward, the constant fidgeting with her shirt as if she was holding herself back. You didn't want her to worry, but the silence felt like a much-needed reprieve after the constant noise of the grocery store and so you stayed quiet. Not long after you were standing in her living room, feeling a sense of calm and safety wash over you at the familiar setting. Emily is putting away the groceries and you watch her work, the bouncing movements of her tail drawing your attention to her rear. Before you know it she's done and she walks over to you, motions for you to sit down on the couch before doing so herself. You sit down next to her, close enough for your hips to touch, leaning in so your head is resting against her side as she puts her arm around your shoulders. Just like last time. You sit like that for a moment, as you try to figure out where to start. If Emily had any answers to give you wanted to hear them. "I..." you start, hesitating. You feel her hand stroke your shoulder in a slow, steady motion, as if she's trying to calm you down. "I don't get it," you finally say. "What do you mean?" "What happened? To humans, I mean." You look up at her. She's showing signs of concern in her hazel eyes and takes a while to answer. "I don't know all of it," she starts, "but I'll tell you what I remember from school, okay?" You nod. "When we found out about Earth there was a lot of excitement. We saw you as another species like us; so similar in so many ways, and wanted you to join our society." Emily was speaking slowly, picking her words carefully. "Making contact became a top priority and so we sent out an ambassador ship with members of all of the species that already made up our community. There were so many of us already, after all, that it seemed only natural that humans would fit right in. But..." Her hand on your shoulder stops in its tracks. You can tell she's tense. "When we arrived at Earth... things weren't good. There was a lot of fighting and it seemed like our arrival just made things worse. There were a lot of different... groups, I suppose, of humans that all seemingly wanted different things, and we weren't able to bring all of them together. Eventually we decided it was best to leave, fearing we had done more harm than good despite our best intentions. Because we felt guilty we offered to take refugees, and many humans decided to come with us. That's why there are humans living with us today." She looks at you, warmly but intently, seemingly trying to gage your reaction. "But Earth is still there?" "Yes, it is." She forces a smile. "I told you we still send shipments there at times, right? All sort of resources, whenever it's needed." "Welfare," you say, vaguely remembering some part of your early studies back on the ship. "... In a word, yes. We never wanted to cause any problems, and so now we try to help where we can." She pulls you in closer and puts her free hand on your cheek. "That's really all I know, Elliot." "Couldn't you... look it up?" "Oh..." Again, you feel her becoming tense. "I... I guess- I'm not very good with that stuff..." She falls silent. You're left feeling cold, despite her warm embrace, wondering whether she's holding something back on purpose. "Tell you what," she says, her voice suddenly a bit more cheerful. "I'll ask my parents about it - they'll be able to explain it better." She sees you look at her and adds: "I promise, okay?" You nod, having no reason to doubt her sincerity. Perhaps she really doesn't know. She moves the hand on your cheek to your head and starts stroking your hair. "You know," she says, her voice low and almost distant. "you're quite... different from other humans. Well, other humans I've known anyway. More... wild, I suppose." You look up at her as best you can from your position. "Oh, that's not a bad thing - I was just surprised." She smiles, truthfully this time. "Maybe all strays are like you, I guess I wouldn't really know." She parts your hair over your forehead, putting her hand back on your cheek as she looks into your eyes. Her gaze is captivating, dispelling any doubts you might have had about her intentions. "How are humans... supposed to be?" you ask. "Hmm... I wouldn't say they're supposed to be anything but themselves, but - and maybe it's just my personal experience - they tend to be more... What's a good word? Oh, I don't know how to say it." Emily puts a hand under her chin and scratches her cheek, ruffling the fur. "Submissive?" you ask, vivid memories from the shopping trip in your mind. "Oh, no, that's not what I meant." Emily gives off a stiff laugh, but quickly cuts it off, betraying her nervosity. "More... I don't know..." She sits quiet for a moment before continuing: "I guess I've only really know three humans before you: Ronia and Rodger - my parents' humans - and Vivian, who belongs to my best friend in high school, Mary. But Vivian was always so polite and pleasant; helping us with school work, always willing to join in with whatever we were doing. I remember one time, Mary had a crush on one of the guys in our class and Vivian suggested she'd practice asking him out, with her playing the role of the guy." Emily laughs. "She got really into it - even getting dressed up in Mary's dad's clothes." She seems lost in thought for a moment. "What about Ronia and Rodger?" you ask, bringing her back to the moment. "Ronia was always the sweetest, we practically grew up together. She was... 14, I think," Emily looks up at the ceiling and you feel the fingers on your shoulder lightly tapping your skin as she's counting in her head. "Yes; she was 14 when my parents got her, because I was 13 at the time. Part-time only, of course, since she was so young. She didn't move in with us full-time until 17. Anyway, she followed me everywhere I went for the first few years - she was so adorable - until I started art school and wasn't home as much. That's why we got Rodger, so she'd have some company." She looks down at you again. "Rodger was always very proud; he even started instructing Theresa in her job - oh, that's my parents' maid. I think she mostly humored him, since it was all from good intent, but there were a few... arguments as well. In the end Rodger was made responsible for my father's study, and they've been really close ever since. My father and Rodger, that is. My father even takes him on business trips now; says he's forgotten how to read a schedule. I just think he likes the company, but there's no denying Rodger is very good at keeping things in order." "Do..." you start, but your words fail you. The memory of Rebecca like a lurking threat in the back of your mind. "What?" Emily's sunny smile shines down on you. "Do they have... pedigrees?" "Pedigrees?" She seems surprised, and you wonder for a tense moment if you just said something stupid. "Of course. Well, I don't know about Vivian, but Ronia's father is a price-winning athlete. Rodger comes from a lineage of instructors - for humans, that is. He's the first in generations of his family to not work on a reservation." She looks at you, her head tilted at an angle. "Why do you ask?" "That... I mean, Rebecca mentioned something about it..." "Oh, yes, she's highbred, for sure. Mr. Steelhoof is a very wealthy man and he likes to show it." She looks at you again with curious eyes. "Are you worried about being a stray?" The question causes you to tense up, and she can tell. She pulls you up in her lap before continuing: "You shouldn't be. It doesn't mean I love you any less. I understand this is a lot to take in, but you have nothing to fear. And I'll ask my parents about Earth - we could even go visit them. Would you like that? You could talk with Ronia and Rodger then; I'm sure they'd be happy to answer any questions you might have. Would you like that?" "Yes - a lot," you answer, cautious excitement rekindled in your chest. Time passes with you in her lap, and before you know it she puts you down, saying she'd like to get started on cleaning the apartment before it gets too late. She hands you a dust cloth and asks for your help, and you spend the time until dinner going over the living room the best you can. For dinner she makes steak and you're surprised by the size of it. Sure enough she eats more than you, quite a lot more in fact, but you feel like this would be enough meat to feed a whole family. You're also struck by the shape - almost completely round, as if made to fit her pan. She catches your stare and says: "You like beef, right?" "Why is it shaped like that?" "What do you mean? This is how they're always sold." She looks as confused as you feel. "Its lab grown, like all our meat, didn't they teach you stuff like that at the station?" "They didn't," you're forced to admit. Once seated Emily carefully asks you about your life at Sunbeam Station. You can tell she's curious but doesn't want to put any pressure on you, making sure to preface everything with 'you don't have to answer' or 'if you don't mind', and you find yourself sharing quite a bit with her. Today had taken a strange turn, but you also felt it had brought you a lot closer to her. And so you tell her about the station, the environment and how it was the first time you had seen grass and trees; about the reception and initial confusion about what was going on; about the lessons and how they focused mostly on personal care and teaching you the language. You tell her how maintaining the daily routine and always using their language was a requirement if you want to eat well, and about seeing everyone you knew leave one by one. As you talk you see her otherwise so gentle face showing signs of worry and even sadness. You wonder if, perhaps, she had known as little about life on the station as you had done about life outside it, but somethings stops you from asking. You continue answering her questions as the two you talk about many things, and though it all you can tell she's avoiding asking about the time before the station, a topic you, too, would gladly leave for another time. As the conversation ebbs she reaches across the small table and takes your hand. "It sounds like you weren't very happy on the station..." Her voice is low, almost husky, and her eyes look misty, as if she's close to tears. "I wasn't." "I-I honestly didn't know... I mean, I thought..." You watch her as she stumbles over her words, her eyes locked at your hand in hers as she strokes its with unsteady fingers. "But I'm happy now." The words came to you suddenly, and you spoke them without thinking. And yet they were true. You feel her hand squeeze yours and she looks up at you, teary-eyed but bearing a smile that would surely melt even Rebecca's ice-cold heart. The rest of the evening was spent cleaning the kitchen and what was left of the rest of the apartment. The whole place is sparkling now, and your mind feels similarly refreshed. Being able to talk to Emily like that, without every word or sentence feeling like a chore, was nothing short of freeing. Now you're standing in the bedroom, waiting for her to put away a pile of freshly-washed clothes, and hoping she'll invite you into her bed again, like an eager puppy expecting a treat. "There we go; all done." Emily turns to you, yawns and stretches her arms. She watches you with a warm smile, perhaps reading your expectation, saying: "Do you want to sleep in my bed again tonight?" You nod excitedly, the jerky motion causing her to giggle. "Maybe I should just put away the mattress if you're not going to use it," she says with a teasing tone before starting to undress. You do the same, putting your clothes in a little pile on the chair in the corner, before getting into bed. Emily is back in her nightgown, a white one this time, though still of the same thin cloth that flows like rippling water over her body, somehow both hiding her features in the way the fabric moves from her motions, while also enhancing them as it clings to her body as if it was part of her fur. She bends forward, adjusting the cover so it's straight with the mattress, and giving you a wonderful view of her cleavage while she's working. Like this, bra-less and barely covered, hanging just inches from you, her breasts fill your entire vision. Soft and jiggling, they seem to invite your touch in their supple swaying. An expectant twitch goes through the muscles of your arm, but you stop yourself from reaching out, caressing her silken fur all the same with your gaze. It takes you a second to notice they've stopped moving and that she's watching you. You avert your eyes, the quick motion only serving to make you feel more guilty. As you lay down, facing away from her, you feel the bed move as she joins you underneath the cover. Your pulse racing, you wonder if your blatant stare might have made her uncomfortable. Last night she spooned you without a second thought, an almost casual attitude towards the intimate gesture, but now she seem to be hesitating, keeping to her side of the bed. You picture her ordering you to your mattress, like a dog being pushed off the couch, and when you feel her hand on your shoulder you jump. Yet she doesn't turn you over to give you a stern talking-to, instead sliding in behind you like yesterday, her soft arms embracing you and pressing you close to her body. That now familiar feeling of your skin caressed by her fur, warm and silken, almost tickling as it settles in snugly against you, causes your whole body to both give in and come alive. You feel a familiar mixture of relaxation and arousal, calm and alertness, as her hand gentle strokes your chest. Every movement of her body, as her fur brushes against you, sends ripples of quiet bliss through your being. Once again her breasts are pushed up against your back, her nipples just barely poking through the thin fabric of her nightgown, almost teasing you with their veiled touch. You listen to her slow breathing and feel her stir lightly as she's nuzzling against the back of your head. Suddenly she readjusts her position, carelessly letting her hand travel lower down your body, only for her to freeze in her track as she feels your erection through your underwear. Her hand is resting at your waist, and you can feel her heart beating faster with how close you are to her. "Is this... because of me?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper. You hesitate, but there's no point in denying the truth: "Yes." She doesn't answer directly, lying motionless behind you, her warm breath stirring the hair on your neck. "This..." she starts, but then falls silent. You feel her stir, but her hand remains on your waist. "Do you... want my help?" Her words flow like molten lava through your body, you pulse quickening instantly, every part of you echoing the same reply: "Yes." "I... Give me a moment," she says, and pulls away from you. She gets out of bed and you turn to watch her, the bed cold by her sudden absence. She walks out the bedroom door and disapears from view. You hear her opening the door to the bathroom and then shortly close it again. As she repears in the doorframe, now holding a small towel, she looks at you with an expression of tempered excitement mixed with heavy embarrassment. Her eyes dart across your face and the bed, and she seems to hesitate, trying to make up her mind. She lowers her hands to below her waist, as if suddenly feeling naked in her short nightgown, but the act only serves to highlight her figure as her arms push against her breasts, pressing them against each other. "A-Are you sure you want this?" she asks, her voice unsteady. "Yes," you repeat. "I am." She gives you a shy smile and lifts the cover to lay back down. Again you feel her body press up against yours as she takes her place as the big spoon. She puts the towel down by your waist, working silently as if the purpose of the towel is something she'd rather not draw attention to. Once done she lightly tugs on your underwear, stops, her forehead resting against the back of your head. You lift your hips to make them easier to slide of and she seems to take the hint, braeking her hesitation and pulling them down to free your erection under the cover. Her hand travels back up your leg, in a slow, drawn-out motion. She circles around to your stomach, slowly starting the descend towards your nether. The teasing motion causes your breath to deepen, and your reaction seems to slow her down further. She's hesitant, not teasing, but it has the same effect on you nonetheless. You feel your penis throb in expectation, harder than you've ever felt it before, as her warm, unsteady hand inches closer. Finally she reaches the base and lightly grabs your shaft, her breath hot against your neck as she's feeling her way forward. She starts moving her hand over your erection, half stroking and half brushing your sensitive skin in long, leisurely motions. The warmth that emanates from her touch takes you by surprise, the pleasure mounting quickly under her inexperienced but eager touch. As she grips tighter, the silken-soft fur giving way to the firmer skin underneath, and increases the pace, you're already moaning faintly into the fur of her arm underneath your neck. "Am I doing this right?" she asks, seemingly to herself, as she changes her grip slightly. You're too taken to answer, but it seems she can easily tell the effect she's having on you. She starts lightly squeezing the base of your shaft and easing up her grip as her hand travels up your dick, trying to alternate the pace and length of her strokes, gaging your reaction to the stimulation. She leans forward, lifting up the cover to peek down at what she's doing, only to quickly lay back down as if the sight was too much for her. Yet her hand doesn't stop, intent on giving you both the pleasure and release you so desperatly crave. She speeds up, slows down, shifts her focus from your shaft to your head, all the while pressing her body against yours. You can feel her stir, almost squirming against you, her presence the only thing on your mind as the pleasure threatens to overtake all of your sense. She strokes your dick in long, soothing motions, urging you toward the edge with delicate care. Her breathing almost as fast as yours. "Are you-" she starts, but you're already too far gone. Your muscles contract and a blissful release washes over you in wave after wave, as your cum shoots out, more than you ever thought you could produce, painting the towel white. She doesn't stop moving her hand, a sudden stiff attention to the way she's pressing herself against you, as if wanting to feel every little bit of how your body is responding. Her nightgown is sticky against your sweaty back, your shared body heat like a blanket of sunlight. Her hand slows down, massaging out the last few drops with attentive care, running her thumb over the head of your dick, causing another muscle twitch to shake your body. As you come back down, suddenly inhabited by a wondrous calm, she bends over you to grab the towel. Pulling it away, a waft of your sweat and seed escaping from under the cover, she carefully folds it up and puts it away. Then she lays back down and pulls you close, one of her arm under your neck and the other stroking your chest lovingly. You feel like you should say something, but your body has already check out for the day and you find yourself drifting off to sleep within moments, with nothing but Emily filling your mind and senses, your underwear still around your knees. ### Day 3 ### When you wake up to another sunny day, Emily is already awake. You feel the movement in the bed as she stirs and roll over on your back to look at her. She's sitting next to you, rubbing her eyes with one hand while stretching her other arm. She looks as if she didn't get much sleep and you feel a pang of guilt at the contrast to your own wonderfully restful night. A rest you owe entirely to her. The way she made you feel last night still resonates within you now, and looking at her only makes the memory more vivid. You sit up and she turns to look at you. "Good morning," she says, stifling a yawn. "Good morning, Emily." She smiles at you weakly before getting out of bed. You watch her change into her day clothes, struggling a bit to get her top on straight, before she turns to face you once again. She's looking at you with an almost bashful expression now, her lips slightly parted as if struggling to find her words. "Are-" you start, only for her to cut you off: "I'll start breakfast." She quickly makes her way out of the bedroom and you're left more than a little surprised by her behavior. You didn't even know she had it in her to act cold. Memories of last night flood into your mind again; the question, your answer, her touch... It had all felt so natural to you; like something you truly wanted. Maybe it was different for her. Maybe helping your human find release is just one of those things a good owner is supposed to do... No, that can't be it. You shake your head to dispel the momentary doubt. Maybe she's just embarrassed? She was the one to suggest it but it's not like you hadn't shown interest before that, and it's only been, what, 3 days since you met? A sudden realization sweep through you. 3 days. It feels so much longer. The feeling subsides, replaced instead with a strong want to make things right. Be it 3 days or 3 years, the effect she had - no; has - on you wasn't something you could just shake off. You needed her, in more ways than one. Moments later, as you enter the kitchen, you find Emily talking on her PDA: "-day or two. It's been a while since last and- Yes, of course I'd bring him. Really? That's great. ... After lunch, I was thinking." She moves over to the refrigerator, takes out a carton of milk. "That's not a prob- Yes, I know. So it's decided? ... Perfect. Love you, mom." She takes the PDA from her ear but puts it right back. "Yes, I- ... No, that won't be- ... Mom..." A longer pause, then: "Okay, we'll see you then - we'll talk more then. Love you, bye." She puts the PDA down with a tired smile and walks over to the table. "Oh, Elliot. Have a seat." You sit down as she places the carton of milk on the table. "Were you talking to your mom?" "Yes, you wanted to meet Ronia and Rodger, didn't you? And I thought aft- I mean, it's been a while since I last saw my parents so why not take the opportunity? Maybe a change of scenery could help me with my painting, as well." She sits down, grabs a piece of bread. Mumbles: "Where's the butter...?" "I'll get it." You make your way to the refrigerator and back, thinking about what she said and what she didn't. "Thank you." You watch her butter her bread before reaching for the toaster. "Emily-" you start, and she pulls her hand back in a sudden jerk. "Oh, my! I'm sorry - I'm a bit tired. Couldn't really sleep last night." "Was it because of..." You feel no need to finish the sentence, instead watching her intently. Emily just smiles at you and reaches for the eggs. You watch her make her sandwich and bite in. She looks back at you but then quickly looks away. You can tell it's bothering her, but you wish she'd just say it. The silence makes everything feel ten times worse. "About yesterday," you begin, trying to sound as relaxed and inviting as possible. "Elliot, can we... talk about this later? I just want to eat right now. I'm sorry, but I'm just really tired." You apologize, tell her you understand, and settle in to eat in silence. 'Later'; if only it was that easy to sooth this anxiety. 'Later' better come soon. After breakfast you find yourself tense and restless. Emily isn't avoiding you but she doesn't want to talk about yesterday and you don't know whether to press it or not. You sense a certain agitation in her when you bring it up, so unlike her normal gentleness, and you feel you're only making it worse. Yet the self-imposed silence gives you no peace, bringing your mind back to the dull uncertainty of the station. She's in her studio, working on the painting she showed you - the one for the dentist's office. You're sitting in the couch, trying to distract yourself from the present with thoughts of what you might learn later today. The initial excitement of visiting her parents, getting to meet Ronia and Rodger, doesn't hold the same allure at the moment. Yet there were still questions you wanted answered, and preferably without any beast folk nearby. Even Emily cause you to temper yourself, her reluctance to speak openly about the past filling you with quiet unrest. What was it about Earth that caused her to hesitate? You find yourself wondering why you even care about that place. You weren't born there, never visited or met anyone from there. It had just been part of your education - your ancestral home - and a weird weight had been put on it. Even while on board the ship - a generation ship with the explicit purpose to colonize a new world - there had been a clear want to go back. Perhaps not too weird, stranded as you were, whatever destination once set in your navigation array nowhere to be found. The whole mission, if it could even be called that, seemed a failure. By the time you were born only a small portion of the ship still functioned. Emergency lighting and food rationing were just the way of things, and try as they might no-one ever got a system operational again after it had ultimately gone dark. It was a slow, creeping death that took over the ship one room, one terminal, one circuit at a time. You shudder. The warmth of the living room, its comforting, earthy color and large windows through which the early-fall sun was shining, all completely forgotten amidst cold memories. You shake your head, bringing yourself back to the moment, refocusing your mind to the questions you might finally get to ask and hear answered. Lunch, too, is spent in silence. You try to start a conversation, asking about her progress on the painting and her work in general, but she only gives short, shallow answers. You feel increasingly frustrated and equally helpless. You don't want to force an answer from her, worried what she might thing of you or what she might say. You never imagined things going the way of last night, but now that they have you don't want to go back to how it was. It might only have been a taste, but it was one that filled your entire body and overloaded your senses in a way nothing else ever had. What little experience you had from back at the ship, sneaking away to a toilet at night, felt like a pale, lifeless imitation of what you had now experienced. You want more. You want her. You look at the bear woman in front of you. It's easy to forget her size in an apartment designed for one like her. You remember arriving at the station and how everything had felt slightly too large, as if you had entered a dream world where everything was recognizable but just a little bit off. You were used to it by now, of course, but despite Emily being two full heads taller than you, she seemed shorter than that in your mind. Her gentle character, careful gestures, and even the youthful excitement she so often displayed made her seem more dainty somehow, more friendly and inviting than her tall stature, plump frame and hidden muscles would make you believe. Had made you believe, you note, as you think back to how you felt that first time you saw her. "I'm... not angry or anything..." she says, looking down at her food after she found you staring. Her fluffy ears, usually standing tall as proud arches on top of her head, now seemed to sag a bit as if to reflect her mood. "I'm just... a bit overwhelmed, okay? I need some time... to think..." You watch her pick at her food, pushing some peas around the edge of the plate with her fork, and you say, trying to keep the melancholy out of your voice: "Okay. I can wait." When the car pulls out from the underground garage Emily is already sleeping with her seat turned all the way down into a horizontal position. The dashboard is displaying the route ahead, and a time estimate of just under five hours. You look at the toilet icon that Emily pointed out for you, in case you wanted the car to pull over at the nearest restroom, just before she pulled a pillow out from the gloves compartment and lowered her seat. You watch her for a while, finding some strange comfort in the calm expression on her sleeping face. She's not angry at you, and that's something. She could have left you behind. Perhaps there are daycare centers for humans, or, maybe, she could have sent you to Rebecca, thinking the two of you might have been able to get along. A slight chill travels down your spine at the thought. But instead she brought you with, and to the place you wanted to go no less. You continue watching the peaceful face of the resting bear woman next to you, feeling that same sense of calm reflected in her expression settle inside yourself. Maybe, after she wakes up, she'll explain what's bothering her. She'll say it with one of her usual warm smiles, her face soft and gentle, caring eyes watching over you and making you feel safe. You look at her mouth, wide and generous, slightly parted in her sleeping state, her lips glistening invitingly from the sunlight reflecting off her lip gloss. Reluctantly you look away, turning to look out the window before your mind goes down a whole other avenue of thought. As the car makes its way through the city, the skyscrapers and taller apartment buildings replaced in steps by shorter ones and terraced houses, you find you yourself staring at nothing in particular. A restful boredom sets in, idle thoughts of no importance lazily make their way through your mind over the distant hum of the wheels traversing the road below. The car is quiet enough that you catch Emily's breathing now and then, and you wonder if you, too, should grab a pillow and go to sleep. Outside the window you start seeing trees and grassy fields, realizing you've already left the city behind. It's hard to judge the speed of a car that almost seems to float rather than drive, wheels and suspension so light you barely notice them, but you've covered quite a distance already. And yet there's a lot more to go. You sigh and rest your head against the window frame. 27 minutes left, the dashboard claims, as the car turns left onto a smaller road. Outside the window are fields of grain, flowers and fruit trees. Between the fields run dirt roads and fences, further back you see houses, garages and even gardens, everything very neatly ordered. In fact, everything you passed seemed to follow some set logic. Even the forests looked as if they grow only within their designated areas, shunning nonconformity. You think back to pictures of Earth, what little you've seen of its natural scenery, and you're struck by an odd sensation of being in an alien environment. As much because of the strange orderliness as because of the scale. The confined space of the car had shielded you so far, but now you're faced with the immensity of the world around you. Far larger than the station, which was already much larger than what space you still had access to on the ship. The endless fields stretching to the horizon, broken up only by the occasional building, make you feel worried. The open landscape convey a feeling of getting lost in infinity. You take a deep breath and lean back in your seat, bringing yourself back to the safety of the car. Emily stir beside you, still sleeping. You turn in your seat, reach out - slowly but with a feeling of urgency - and take her hand. She moves again, a slight smile dance over her lips, and finally she opens her eyes. Looking up at you with those hazel eyes full of warmth and care, she takes your hand and holds it firmly. "Are we close?" she asks, her voice bearing signs of her recent sleep, looking from you toward the dashboard. "I can't see it from down here." "Less than 15 minutes," you answer, glancing at the off-white digits on the dark-gray display. "Oh, then we're almost on the grounds." You look up and out through the windshield. "The grounds?" "Yes, my parent's estate is pretty big." Without letting go of your hand, Emily adjusts her seat into sitting position. The dull whirl of the seat's motor rising above the hum of the wheels for a moment. You're watching the scene in front of you, the grassy fields on both sides of the road, the stone bridge leading over a small steam still a minute or two up ahead. "Once we've passed that bridge we'll be on my parent's land." Emily momentarily lets go of your hand to stretch her muscles before she takes it again, squeezing it lightly. "There used to be fruit groves here when my mom was young," she says as you cross the bridge, "but it cost more to take care of the trees than what we could earn by selling the fruit. We still have some of those trees - or at least trees of the same kind - in a garden behind the house. Apple trees." You feel Emily look at you and turn to face her. "A bit of Graybark family history." She smiles. Your mind makes a sudden connection and you ask: "Is that why you have 'bark' in your name?" Emily laughs, a clear, musical tone. "No, our name is much older than this estate. It's actually a bit unusual. Most species take on names that relate to their - um - unique features, I guess? It's always been that way. You met our neighbor, Mr. Steelhoof, for example. I think Graybark has something to do with petrified wood, and it's meant to sound strong and enduring, but I haven't met a single person who read it that way." She laughs again. The sound wraps around you, soothing your earlier worries of what might be bothering her. She's back to her usual self, warm and carefree, and that's all you really wanted. You grip her hand tighter and she leans in to place a kiss on your forehead. You look at her, warmth spreading out from where her lips touched your skin, your eyes drawn to her mouth, fighting down an urge to throw caution to the wind and kiss her. "Oh, perhaps I shouldn't have..." she looks down at your hand in hers. "Why not? I liked it," you say, hoping your voice doesn't betray your thoughts. She smiles, her eyes still on your hand as she strokes the back of it with a fuzzy thumb. "I... Maybe I'm overreacting, but..." She stops, looks out through the windshield. You wait for her to continue but she seems distracted, pointing to the road ahead. "There's the gate, we're almost there now." You look forward, seeing the tall gate of black metal, set into an equally tall beige brick wall, that she's pointing to. You turn back to her, but before you can say anything she continues: "Look - it's opening." You turn around again, feeling that the moment has been lost, and lean back in your seat as the car slow down upon reaching the open gate. Before you, at the end of a gravel driveway, stands Emily's parents house, a surprisingly modern-looking mansion in such a rural area. A light, almost faded, yellow on its walls, with window frames and other details in dark brown. Tall rose bushes with pink and white flowers cover most of the front-facing wall, neatly trimmed to end just below the many large windows. At the middle of the house a large staircase of white stone leads up past the foundation to the main door, positioned a meter-or-so over the ground, and before it lies a parking lot holding two cars and with space for many more. As Emily's car parks itself neatly by the other cars, Emily lets go of your hand to give you a quick, but loving, pat on the head before she reaches to undo her seatbelt. The car has barely stopped, its engine still settling down for rest, as she opens the door and steps out. You hurry after her, not wanting to be left behind in her excitement, but you find her waiting for you with a warm smile on her face. "I love it out here," she says, pulling you in for a hug. "It's always so peaceful. I feel like I have room for my thoughts. I love my apartment, too, but it feels a bit crammed at times..." She trails off, lets go of you but takes your hand. "Let's go introduce you to my parents." Your heart skips a beat as she says this, and you're not entirely sure why. With a soft beep from the car as Emily locks its doors, the two of you make your way toward the mansion. The door opens and a bear who could only be Emily's mother appears. The same round face and warm features, same deceptively-soft build with hidden strength underneath. She doesn't even look much older, not that you'd know the signs in their species. Still, if someone had called them sisters you wouldn't have doubted them for a second. The only different you notice, as the two bear ladies hug and exchange pleasantries, is that the mother has darker eyes. Not the gentle golden-brown of hazel, but a more rich brown that speaks of some deeper wisdom. The mother breaks from her daughter, adjusts the shoulder straps of the simple white dress she's wearing, and disappears behind the door as another bear, this one slightly larger and rougher in expression, takes her place. The father, no doubt, since even though his appearance doesn't remind you much of Emily, he undeniably has the same eyes as her. They give him an intense look, warm and inviting globes in an otherwise stern and proud face. He's wearing similarly casual clothes to his wife, with a blue polo shirt and white pants. As he moves out of view you hear a feminine voice from inside: "Come in, come in, and let us see your human!" The voice is a bit slower, more in control, than Emily's carefree tone. You look up at your owner, feeling more like a pet then ever before, about to be paraded around in front of judging eyes. She motions for you to follow her into the entrance hall proper, and it had it not been for her warm presence you would have hesitated. As the large doors close behind you, you feel the stare of the three bears as if you were a prey that had just entered into their hunting ground. It sends a chill down your spine. "Oh, he's adorable!" Before you know it, Emily's mother scoops you up off the ground and embraces you not unlike Emily have done so many times before, leaving your feet to dangle above the floor. The feeling of primal fear is quickly displaced by her warm fur caressing your face as you're half-way down her cleavage. She even smells the same beneath her perfume, though the perfume itself is different. "Now, darling, we agreed you'd show some restraint. Remember he's a stray," Emily's father says, his voice deep and rumbling, but not without compassion. "I'm sorry," the mother says, addressing her husband more than you, before putting you back down. She continues, directing herself at you now: "I've been so excited to meet you ever since Em said she had decided to get a stray." She puts a heavy hand on your head and ruffles your hair. "I'm happy I finally get the chance." "Hm, yes, it's nice to meet you." Emily's father moves in and reaches out a hand. You grab it and nearly cry out in pain as his vice-like grip shakes most of your arm. "Elliot, was it?" mother bear asks. "Yes," you answer, glancing at Emily. "And you- I mean, what's your name?" "Evelyn, dear. And this husband of mine is Markus." The father nods, before turning to his daughter. "We'll get plenty of opportunity to talk during dinner. Shall we?" Evelyn takes her hand off your head, saying: "I hope you're hungry, our maid is an excellent chef," before motioning you to follow. Emily comes up at your right and you follow the two women into the dining room, swept up by the pace. The entrance hall had been impressive in its own way, with its polished dark gray stone floor, brown wood paneling decorating the white walls and the small chandelier hanging from the tall, white ceiling, but the dining room was a step above. A burgundy carpet with a rich pattern lies on a dark wood floor, itself patterned with interweaving strips of wood forming intricate, star-like designs. The walls share the same wood paneling from the entrance hall but the color behind them is a dark orange, though barely seen behind the dozens of paintings hanging around the large room. Almost all of the paintings are of landscapes, most showing Earth-like environments, but some display scenes from worlds that show vastly different ecologies. One in particular catch your attention, showing an off-blue, almost purple, ocean stretching out from a gray-white beach beneath rolling hills of pale light-green grass. A single humanoid is standing on the beach, details too small to make out, but with their tail hanging limply behind them as if in somber awe of the scale of the water in front of them. You feel a certain connection with the creature, as you take your seat at the table by Emily's side, feeling very small in a room that's large even for its intended inhabitants. You hear a door open and turn to face it. In strides a human man, confidence in his walk and his head held high, wearing a simple white shirt of perfect fit with an elegant black vest above it and with matching pants. You notice a glint of gold reflected off the glasses in his chest pocket as he enters the bright light of the massive chandelier centered above the table. He strikes you as a teacher, somehow. Maybe due to the stern look of his face below short blond locks, or the way his eyes seem to catch every detail in the scene. Behind him walks a woman who might as well be his polar opposite. An excited smile is on her lips as her eyes lock on to you, ignoring everyone else at the table. Her brown hair reaches all the way to her waist, giving her a wild look as she moves with a swaying walk, her hands held behind her back. She's wearing a long, purple dress, not unlike what you've seen Emily wear, even if her lithe body makes a direct comparison difficult. The two sit down next to Markus, across from you and Emily. "Ah, yes, so you're Emily's human," the man speaks, his voice dry but friendly. "Pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Rodger. I'm sure Emily has mentioned me." "She has, yes," you reply, attempting a smile. "I'm Elliot. Nice to meet you." "And I'm Ronia," the woman says, suddenly leaning forward over the table, nearly knocking over a wine bottle, to reach her hand out to you. You take it as Rodger shakes his head and Emily giggles. "Now, Ronia, there was a time for greetings in the hall earlier," Evelyn says, trying to keep her voice stern. "I'm afraid that's my fault," Rodger replies. "We were sorting out the last details with Yvana for tonight." Emily leans toward you, says: "Yvana's the maid." "Ah, that reminds me." Rodger turns to Markus at his side. "She said she'll be eating with Gustaf this evening - our gardener," he adds, sending you a quick glance. "Very good, then we're all here and can start," Markus announces, before turning to you and Emily. "I hope you'll enjoy the meal." You turn your eyes to the feast in front of you. As if not to be outdone by the rest of the room, the table is laden with more plates, bowl and pitchers than you think necessary - even had all six of you been bears. All the porcelain seems to belong to the same expensive-looking service; white with dark-green patterns of vines and leaves. Even the table cloth beneath, pure white with barely-noticeable patterns sewn into it with great care, is radiating a sense of reverence, to a point where it seems rude to just dig in and taint this beautiful scene with something so primal as hunger. Yet the others show no such restraint, reaching across each other with familiar ease to pick up this serving plate or that, talking idly about how tasty everything looked and how delicious it smelled. You've barely registered what's on offer, between different meats, various sauces and the many side dishes, sitting quietly with your hands in your lap as the others help themselves, your appetite suddenly nowhere to be found. "Here, let me," comes Emily gentle voice from your side as she grabs your plate. You watch her serve you, putting on your plate a little bit of everything, yet taking care not to overdo it. Still, by the time the plate is back in front of you, there's enough on it to daunt you. "Oh, maybe that's too much..." Emily's hand hesitates a bit before letting go of the plate. "Don't worry about it," her mother is quick to add in, leaning in over the table to smile at you. "Anything you don't eat will last just fine in the refrigerator. We'll all be eating leftovers for the next few days." Turning to her daughter she continues: "Speaking of which, how long will you stay?" "I haven't decided yet. A day, maybe two." "Not longer?" "Depends on whether I can get any painting done out here or not. I have... a deadline coming up." "Oh, you'll have to show it to me later." You recognize the slight pause in Emily's speech as the same from earlier in the day; the topic of this morning still left unresolved. Yet it seems quickly forgotten as she starts talking about her painting, the client and then dentists in general. It's not long until her father is on a modest rant about costs due to biting off a tooth the other week and the conversation stirs itself toward other family matters. Despite the lingering worry, you feel a certain calm in being left out of it, allowed instead to focus on the food on your plate. It all smells wonderful and you feel your appetite returning as your world shrinks down from the large mansion, with its many inhabitants, to the waiting meal in front of you. You eat at your own pace, at times looking up to glance around the table as you try to follow the various conversations. More then once you notice Ronia looking your way, and every time she gives you a smile or raises her eyebrows as if inviting you to talk to her. But you remain silent, unwilling to bring up any of your questions if it means interrupting a family dinner and drawing the attention of everyone at the table. The day isn't over yet, after all, and there should be time to talk later. At one point Emily turns your way, her voice catching your ear: "-a human bed on the floor of my room. It's been working out so far, hasn't it, Elliot?" You nod, remembering that one night on the mattress, and how she joked about putting it away if you kept sleeping in her bed every night. "In your room?" Evelyn asks. "You should really give him a room of his own - maybe move to a bigger-" "You know I can't afford that, mom." "You could if you moved closer to us. There's plenty of houses out here that go for cheap." "I know, mom, but I like the city." "Then maybe, if you find yourself a nice man..." You notice a tension in Emily at her mother's words. She stops her fork half-way to her mouth, puts it back on the plate with its morsel uneaten. Her father leans in a bit over the table, perhaps sensing his daughter's mood. "Don't let it get to you, Emily, dear," he says, before looking over to his wife. "Your mother have grandchildren on her mind. A human is wonderful company, and Elliot seems like a excellent specimen, but it's no replacement for a husband." He straightens up, looks down at his plate. "Ah, um, I didn't mean to repeat what she said, I just... A spouse is..." "I know, dad, it's fine. But I'll get there when I get there." "Hm, yes, let's just leave it at that, then." "Fine," Evelyn says, defeat in her voice. "At least I have Ronia and Rodger." It took a few moments more before the conversation was back up in full swing, yet it all seemed to be water under the bridge by the time dessert was served. The maid, Yvana, cleared the table with an impressive speed you wouldn't have guessed from her short and stocky frame. The white stripe down her otherwise black forehead should be a dead giveaway, but you've only learned about so many animals. Badger? That might be it. She was moving between the chairs, grabbing plates and stacking them tall with noteworthy agility, before disappearing to the kitchen again and again, only to return with new plates and platters. Before long the table was covered in cookies of various types, surrounding a center piece in the form of a large chocolate cake. You're already stuffed, having barely been able to finish your dinner, but find a second wind as you try out one of the cinnamon cookies. Maybe moving away from the city wouldn't be so bad, if it meant more dinners like this. The conversation continues on at the same pace, and on the same topics. Markus brings up Emily's boxes in the attic, and that she should probably go through them at some point; Evelyn talks about the garden and its trees, menacing snails and ways to deal with them; Ronia tells a story about how she saved a bird who had fallen into the bird bath and was unable to take flight with wet wings; Rodger complains about a software update messing with his many schedules. Through it all you find yourself barely paying attention, both unwilling and unable to add anything to what's being said. In fact, as the evening goes on, a certain restlessness sets in. More than anything, you were hoping to get some alone time with Emily to talk about this morning, but it's already getting late and there's no end in sight of this family affair. And yet an end still comes, as Evelyn pushes back her empty tea cup and announces its almost time for bed. The sun has already set outside and the dining hall is lit only by the many electric candles in the chandelier above the table, filling the room with a flickering golden glow that doesn't quite reach the walls, creating an intimate, almost cave-like, feel. Your body is ready for sleep, relaxed and satiated after so much delicious food, but your mind is still spinning. You look to Emily who's getting out of her chair, stretching her body after sitting for so long. She turns to you as you get up and says: "Ronia or Rodger will show you to your room." She notices you tensing up and pulls you in for a hug. "Good night, Elliot." She hesitates, then continues in a voice low enough for only you to hear: "It's not... proper to share a bed with your human - at least not every night. I'm sure you understand." She breaks off from you with a smile on her lips that isn't shared by her eyes. She looks sad, worried, and as she makes her way out of the room without you, you start to feel the same way. Ronia is quick to walk over to you after Emily leaves, while Rodger remains at the table, talking to Markus in a business-like tone. "I'll take you," she says, walking ahead of you and looking back. "In fact, we have two guest rooms, so you can pick whichever one you like." You follow, still thinking of Emily's words. "There wasn't any time to get to know each other today," Ronia continues, her chipper attitude doing little to improve your mood. "Family dinners - you know how it is." She rolls her eyes in an exaggerated way and looks at you with a smirk. "We'll have all of tomorrow though, and I was told you had some questions?" She ends her sentence with an inquisitive note and a raised eyebrow, but instead of giving you time to answer she says: "Actually, let's not get into that now. I also have some questions; never met a stray before." She looks at you again, as if gaging your reaction. Her voice is casual, friendly, but with bubbling excitement just under the surface. Far from the harsh edge Rebecca used with that same word. "You... don't mind strays?" You look at her, and she seems able to read your expression. "Oh, you've met one of those, have you? We're not all like that, you know. Well, I guess you wouldn't know," she adds with a coy laugh. "I guess you could say we're a bit more relaxed out here. The city folk worry about pedigrees and whatnot - we worry about our gardens and, uh, things plant-related, I guess?" She stops, excitement clear in her voice: "Hey, maybe you could help convince Emily to move here?" "I... uhm..." You're taken back by the sudden turn of events. "She loves it out here - always says so - but, eh, the city... I don't know..." Ronia starts walking again, turning a corner and points to a door: "Bathroom. That one's for the guest rooms, so you don't have to worry about it being occupied. ... I guess I just think she'd be happier out here, you know? More free." With that she stops again, in the middle of the corridor, and points at two doors on opposite sides. "Pick whichever room you like. They're both clean and with fresh sheets. Extra blankets are in the drawers, towels in the bathroom... Anything else? ... No, that should be it, unless you have some question." She looks at you, hands on her hips in a gesture that completely clashes with her fancy dress. "I- No, I think that's all I need." She keeps her eyes on you for a moment longer, then: "Good. I'll see you tomorrow - breakfast at 8 - and you better be ready to answer some questions afterward." She walks past you with a low giggle, before turning around: "Good night, Elliot!" "Good night, Ronia." And just like that you're left alone in the dim light of a corridor in a large mansion you don't know. You peek into one of the rooms, and then the other. They're almost identical except that the left one, in the direction you came, has a window opening to a herb garden. You pick the other one, feeling some comfort in the more closed space. After getting ready for bed you lay down under the cover with a content sigh. The bed is wonderfully soft under your tired body, and the whole room has a faint smell of apples. Maybe you'll be able to get some sleep after all, despite your worries. You found a stack of unopened tooth brush packages in the bathroom under a handwritten note reading 'in case of forgetfulness', the 'i' dotted with a heart, and there was even a few glasses lined up, left there in case some guest wanted some water on their night stand. You had been very well taken cared of, and yet here you were, feeling lonely and forgotten. You sigh again, trying your best not to think of Emily. Her face, her smile, her touch, her warm body against yours... It would be a long night, but at least tomorrow held some promise.