Kettu Kasvattaa
Kettu Kasvattaa
*)Baguba - Vernon's house - the next day(*
Vern was the first to wake up, although involuntarily. He quickly rolled over and spat up black bile, then looked down at his neck to see that the damn Kacheek had removed his periapt, and was now sleeping peacefully on it. He quickly retrieved it from under her and put it back on right before a second wave of nausea struck from the smell of the vomit. He removed the earplugs from his ears and looked at the clock. Seven AM.
Vernon's bed was crowded, given it was barely large enough for him and him alone. The Kacheek was sleeping between his legs, curled up in the manner of a cat, snoring away and oblivious to the hazard she'd put Vernon in. She'd spent most of the night yowling to get out - her heat having passed, she no longer had any desire to knock boots with the half-Raichu, and she wasn't too keen on Elara, despite having tailed her to Vernon. It had gotten so loud Vernon had little option but to cram earplugs made from solidified Muk grime in his ears. Elara slept beneath the bed, likewise not too fond of the Kacheek for some reason.
"Get up, you," said Vernon, spitting out a tiny amount of bile that had managed to make it up his throat. It tasted like Grimer droppings. He poked the Kacheek, who responded by trilling and turning over in her sleep. "I said get up!" Vernon roared, picking the emaciated mouse up bodily and tossing her off the bed. The Kacheek at least managed to brace her landing from the sudden wakening. "You can sleep later, damn it!"
The Kacheek shot a venomous look at Vernon. There was a makeshift eyepatch on her missing eye, which Vernon had hastily made as a temporary fix until he could take her to a doctor. She was a bit more filled out now than she'd ever been while living in the wild or with Allison and Banon, but her ribs were still visible, and she was still very skinny compared to other Kacheeks.
"Yes, yes, fuck you, Vernon," said the Raichuman sarcastically. "Unlike you I have parents who knew how to reason." He got out of bed, but slipped on the pool of bile and fell facefirst on the floor, much to the Kacheek's delight. Before he could get up, the Kacheek was already in his face and showing her dislike of the present situation by urinating directly into her tormentor's face. This commotion had woken Elara up.
"Can't you two just get along?" she said while crawling out from under the bed, yawning. The Kacheek's response was to growl at her, which Elara dismissed, more focused on the black bile on the floor and on the sole of Vernon's large foot. "Ah, yes, the rotbile. Your slaver hasn't been killed yet?"
"If he had been, do you think I'd be wearing this damn thing?" said Vernon, gesturing to the periapt. "Now help me up; we're gonna take the kitty here to a doctor."
The concept of being taken somewhere else pleased the Kacheek as Elara helped Vernon up. Vernon quickly threw on a set of clothes and draped a towel over the vomit before picking the Kacheek up. "Elara, could you follow me and keep her from trying to escape back into Uladon?" he asked. Elara nodded.
Vernon's predictions about the Kacheek wanting to return to the wild were well-founded. Twice the Kacheek hopped out of Vernon's arms, and twice Elara dragged her back by the scruff of the neck, the Kacheek yowling and hissing all the while, flailing its limbs to no effect. She stopped running when the local doctor's office came into sight.
Like everything else in Baguba, this brick structure had a wooden front door and whitewashed exterior walls, with a gutter and rain barrel beneath. A sign out front read Ferris Marchon, M.D., and boasted specialization in so-called "exotics" - creatures not native to Ivalice, which meant anything not human, Bangaa, Viera, Nu mou, Moogle, Gria, or Seeq. Vernon could feel a strong psionic presence from inside, as could the Kacheek.
"Elara..."
Elara wasted no time in seizing the Kacheek as she hopped out of Vernon's hands, tail pouffed. Vernon took the Kacheek back and hugged her tightly, entering the office.
Inside the lobby was a Lucario, this one either awaiting the doctor or deliberately tormenting the receptionist with a kami, whom was making a mess of the receptionist's office by throwing medical records and appointment logs everywhere, including Vernon's, which he had made the night before. Vernon noticed that there was graffiti in a language he didn't recognize on the back wall of that office, and sighed, taking his seat. The Lucario across from him shot a look towards him and stood up, beckoning his kami to follow him out just as Dr. Marchon stepped out of the back.
Vernon held onto the Kacheek tighter as he noticed the doctor. It was a Gardevoir, and this one seemed to have been either ex-owned or ex-Clanner, based on the fact it had a nice scar up its right arm. The gown had been replaced with a large coat, and the look in his yellow eyes suggested that he only had enough mercy to patients to cure them if they weren't struggling.
< And who might you be? > he asked thru thought-speech.
"Vernon Lancaster," said Vernon, a bit shaken by this doctor's menacing looks.
< Ah. And I assume this feral is the patient? > asked Dr. Marchon, looking at the Kacheek.
"Unfortunately. Be careful; she's got a mean streak," said Vernon, handing the Kacheek over. The Kacheek's struggles were too much for Dr. Marchon and she escaped, but he loosed a quick Glare to paralyze the Kacheek before she could escape.
< Alright...Let's see... > Dr. Marchon got up close for a physical examination, examining every aspect of the Kacheek, from her genitals down to her exposed ribcage, and even spots Vernon did not think to note, like the bottoms of her feet and the inside of her ears. Each observation was met with an "mm-hmm", and he constantly kept his arm aimed towards his exam room, likely to telekinetically jot down notes. It would be well over an hour before he finished.
"So, Doc-"
Dr. Marchon wasted no time. < She's badly emaciated; about a 5 on a scale of 1-5, with 1 being plump and 5 being skeletal. She has major flea problems, and there appears to be an infection in her right ear. I notice you gave her an eyepatch; I'll sew a more permanent one on. Rather unusual for a Kacheek, she's a virgin and her clitoris doesn't appear to have ever been used to mark... >
Vernon interrupted him. "Why is being a virgin unusual?"
< Kacheeks are very much sexually active at young ages, > explained Dr. Marchon. < Their social hierarchy is sexual in nature, and even females are playmated a few days shy of their second birthday. It's not unusual for a Kacheek at 20 to have had sex 50 times already. > With that, he pressed on. < She seems to have the mannerisms and mentality of a couatl, and she's got renal and dietary problems. >
Elara whistled. "So much issues..."
< I believe this Kacheek was either abandoned at birth or orphaned at same, which would explain the mannerisms and feral behavior. Have you considered trying to educate her? >
"I did," said Vernon. "However, I'm not entirely sure of her age."
< She's twenty-one years old, > replied Dr. Marchon. < She's legally an adult, but since she is feral, I'm pretty sure you would have custody of her because of it. >
"What problems can you fix, Dr. Marchon?" asked Elara.
< It's all gonna be costly, > he warned.
"Gil is no object," replied Vernon. "In fact, I could pay you an extra ten thousand Gil not to mention this particular case."
Almost immediately, Vernon felt Dr. Marchon invading his mind, trying to find the reason why Vernon would want this to be kept hushed. The feeling was odd - it was similar to a migraine headache, except you felt it deep within your brain and the pain wasn't physical, but mental. With each push into the half-Raichu's brain, Vernon staggered a bit, but after three minutes, Dr. Marchon was satisfied and retracted his probe. The Kacheek was not spared, either, attempting to thrash about as Dr. Marchon read her mind as well.
< I see... So that arse wants this one dead? > asked the doc.
"How'd you..."
< The bastard stormed in here yesterday afternoon to get psychokinetic healing. He told me he'd gotten the injury from a lamia, but I didn't buy his story. He offered me twice the normal rate to do the fixing expeditiously, but I refused. >
"So you know he's after someone?" said Vernon.
< Were it my choice I'd've turned him in, but he threatened me with time in Sprohm if I tried. >
"So you'll do it?" asked Elara.
< Indeed I will, and for free. I'll bill the Judgeship and claim Judge Lancaster here needed a new periapt to control his rotbile. >
"Okay... so what can you fix?"
Marche didn't even have time to order the guards to throw Alk out before he stormed in again.
"You again? Alk, give me one good reason I don't strip you of your Judgehood right now for harassment," warned Marche. It wasn't an idle threat.
"Request permission to investigate something in Ula-" started Alk.
"Denied," growled Marche. "Unless you have a compelling reason."
"I have gotten reports from my Church that one of our faithful is missing," said Alk, offering a sheet of parchment stamped with the insignia of the Church of Aslan. "She was last heard from in Uladon."
"You would have me okay a search-and-rescue expedition in a territory where you've been using criminals as cheap labor?!" roared Marche, standing up.
"I used the criminals as cheap labor because of the impracticality of covering Uladon Bog by myself," said Alk. "I don't trust your Judges any more than I trust my scat to not reek."
"'My' Judges?" said Marche. The tone in his voice suggested that he had had enough of Alk. "Now, you listen to me, Alk, but so long as you talk to me about your fellow Judges you shall address them with the respect they deserve!"
"This particular one doesn't deserve respect," said Alk, approaching Marche's desk and tossing the edict onto it. "His name is Vernon Lancaster, and I suspect him of lying to me when I asked him to report to me what he saw."
"Proof?" asked Marche, his finger tapping.
"He told me he had found an abandoned house in Uladon with a feral Kacheek in it. I checked that same house and found evidence that Sekheini slavers had used it, and that they had taken the person I was seeking hostage."
"So why are you searching in Uladon again, if all you found was remains?" demanded Marche. He wasn't buying Alk's story.
"The criminals I asked to help reported to me that there's no evidence the slavers have left Uladon." In truth, the criminals were asked to make sure Alison had not left the house, a result which each and every one of them corroborated.
Marche growled and stood up, ignoring the writ. "Alk, you're lying through your teeth. If Judge Lancaster had found them, the Sekheini would be returning home with their escaped slave." Alk's blood ran cold. "Hand me your sword."
"I assure you I am-" started Alk.
"Now."
Alk growled and reached for his pocket.
"GUARDS!!"
The two guards beside the door charged towards Alk, who pulled out a small can-shaped thing with a pin formerly on it now sitting on a finger, shutting and covering his eyes.
POW!
With his eyes shielded, Alk's flashbang that he had smuggled in in case the proceedings did not go well did not affect him, and he managed to slip past the guards and out of the exit.
When Marche's vision returned, he looked down at the edict and noticed something about it.
"That bastard forged an writ from his own church?!"
The Kacheek greedily ate the food in front of her, on her third helping of lunch as Vernon stood naked in the corner, trying to conceal the boner he now had from pills that the doc had given him.
"I'm not fucking her," he growled.
< You're gonna have to, Mr. Lancaster, > said Dr. Marchon. < Showing sexual dominance is gonna be the only way she'll trust you. >
"And I say you're a quack for suggesting it."
< Anybody who works with Kacheeks as a doctor also has to know some Kacheek psychology, > he said. < I've nudged her back towards being a Kacheek and not a couatl; you need to seal the deal by displaying dominance. >
"I'm still not putting my dick in her," said Vernon. "The last thing I want is for the slavers to take her as well."
< The slavers will take her regardless because she's not human. > Dr. Marchon refilled her food bowl for the third time. < Now, while she's eating, show dominance over her sexually. >
Vernon realized the uselessness of arguing. He sighed and removed his hands from his penis, which was tapered and a rather large seven inches for his specie. Looking forwards at the Kacheek's tail end, he thought for a moment about whether to go for the vagina or the tailhole. Tailhole, he reasoned. I'm not sure how long a Kacheek heat cycle is, nor the cooldown.
Vernon meekly moved forward, Dr. Marchon's orders ringing in his mind with a bit of a sense of uncertainty. Vernon himself was a virgin; he was only thirteen when his father led the insurrection that allowed him and his mother to flee, and had resolutely vowed not to breed until they were both free. Now, twenty-one years later, Vernon's penis quivered as the Kacheek ass waited to be bred for the first time in the Kacheek's life. He sighed, and sidled up to behind the Kacheek, not touching her yet, not approaching her yet, but admiring her. She had almost certainly had a rougher life than he had ever had, but what did that mean to her? Nothing. In her feral state, survival, not comfort, was the goal.
Vernon took a deep breath and aimed his throbbing penis towards her tailhole.
< Anal? She just got out of heat. >
"I don't care," said Vernon. "I'm not risking her getting pregnant." He quickly pushed his penis into the Kacheek, who suddenly squeaked and stopped eating, swallowing her mouthful of food and lifting her tail, looking back towards Vernon.
Vernon hopped up onto the examination table and positioned himself so that he was in the natural position, his feet planted on either side of the Kacheek and his hands in front of the Kacheek's face, which was at about Vernon's neck, on either side. The Kacheek's tailhole flinched uncertainly, and for the first time in her life, the Kacheek thought in terms a sentient being could understand:
Is he breeding?
Vernon pulled out quickly and slowly pushed back in, the lack of lubrication in her tailhole making the work slow. His tail stuck straight out, bending upwards, and the alien feel of flesh surrounding his penis that wasn't his right hand frightened him a bit. Nonetheless, he resumed, thrusting again and starting to work up a rhythm.
"Mrrrrowwrrrrr...." The Kacheek made the only vocalization she knew how to do right away, parting her legs a bit for Vernon to have access to her pussy if he wanted it and lowering her front half. The growl did not subside, but the psychic surgery Dr. Marchon has performed was working.
"Not today," Vernon said, thrusting in a bit deeper. He felt something slimy along her walls as he thrusted, a bit curious as to why her tailhole lubed up. Marchon answered back that that was actually scent, which her anus secreted when penetrated by a new penis or clitoris.
"Do I have to climax?" asked Vernon.
< Only if you want, > replied the good doctor. < Normally, Kacheek penii and clitorises possess a scent gland at their tips which empties quickly; while climaxing would feel like scenting to her were you a Kacheek you'd've already have done it by now. In either case, her anal scent on your penis will let her know who's the boss of the relationship. >
Vernon smiled and slowly pulled out. The warmth of the tailhole kept crying to his crotch as he removed his now-fragrant penis, smelling more like her than him. The Kacheek lowered her tail, then lowered it between her legs.
< There. Should be easier to educate her now, > said Marchon. < I can't remove some of the more feral bits, such as the rut, however, so I suggest you have condoms on hand every few months. >
Vernon grumbled and walked to the front of the Kacheek, still hard. He reached down for his underwear and put it back on.
< Have you named her? >
"I don't know if her prior guardians, the Undreyrs, have yet," replied Vernon as the Kacheek returned to eating.