First Time
(Sequel to A Simple Phone Call, Opposing Force, etc.)
First Time
Nine had given up.
There were no struggles, no clawing, no sobs or cries as he made his journey down the warm embrace of throat muscles. They worked with perfect efficiency: the muscles at his muzzle opened wide to allow passage, and the muscles at his feet squeezed him tight to push him forward. The embrace was merciless, crushing the breath out of him, until at last the muscles expanded and he plopped down weakly to his destination, the empty sack of stomach. The air was stale and unpleasant. The sounds of body, all around him, were deafening. He breathed slow, not panicking or struggling, but laying still on the "ground" beneath him, curling slightly into himself. He had always promised himself, promised the others in the breeding cages, that he would never give up, and never surrender. If a macro wanted to eat him, they would have to bite off his limbs and crush his head, or he would scrape and scratch his way all the way down and beat against their stomach walls. That had changed when he was plucked up by the nape by strong, dexterous fingers, lifted high, held above a gaping maw, and then released, dropped into the dark abyss.
Samantha belched slightly, covering her mouth and looking about, embarrassed if anyone had seen. But no one at her table had. Everyone was too concerned with their own micro, which they had picked out of the table's allotted box. Jeffery was suckling on the poor vixen he had chosen, and soon tilted his head back and gulped hard, swallowing her whole and alive, though savoring every thrash and struggle, in contrast to Samantha who had done her best to swallow quickly. Michael, a husky, was taking his time chewing on... Samantha wasn't sure, but like a child, he had turned to her and displayed his crimson painted teeth. Linda was saving the micro for the time being. A cow, she was holding her micro in the side of her cheek.
Samantha smiled to suppress her gag. She rubbed her belly slightly, looking down at it, under the tank top she had worn for the informal affair. The micros had been given for an end of the day treat, and so, Samantha did not think it would be suspicious if she stood and excused herself from the table. She kissed Michael on the cheek as she passed him, and told Linda they would get together sometime soon, before heading for her car. The entire park had been rented by Micros Incorporated for the company picnic. Samantha's car was only a few yards away, over the soccer field that had been the source of the afternoon's game. When she had come to the picnic, the soccer field seemed as wide as any other would be. Walking back to her car, it seemed like an endless stretch of grass. And she could not run. She had been reprimanded a few times, for trying to smuggle a micro out of the factory. The managers usually turned the other way if you wanted to eat one every few days (it wasn't encouraged, and the gluttonous would be reprimanded, but a few here and there kept morale up), but if you wanted to smuggle a micro out of the factory, then there was too much fear you might try to sell a healthy pair to a rival competitor. _Micro Economic_s' main draw was their breeds, each micro said to be of the highest quality. Some higher ups suspected she might be into corporate espionage, and she could feel someone's eyes burning in the back of her head as she walked.
Her hand wrapped around the handle of her car. It was a cherry red Charger which she had fixed up from an old Junker. She loved the car. Now the handle felt like ice on her bare paw. She pulled it, opened the door, and slipped inside. She looked around, out the windows, and as far as she could tell, no one was watching her.
She tilted over to the passenger's seat and stuck her fingers into her mouth. Gorge ran up her throat suddenly, and she vomited sticky muck of half-digested food... and a full sized micro, onto the seat of the leather she had just had detailed.
She would have imagined that the micro wolf would spring to life the moment he was free of her stomach, screamed and shouted and sucked in fresh air. When he did not move, she feared he might be dead, and hesitantly reached a pair of fingers out to grab him. Nine, who had perhaps been watching her over his shoulder, let out a pitiful scream as the fingers came down, curling tighter into a ball and shivering something fierce.
"I-it's alright, Nine. It's me, Sami."
She used to be able to calm the micros down with a few words. She was one of the trainers, and it was her job to make sure the micros were healthy. The trainers were generally friendly with the micros, as it was easier to keep them in line and learn if they were hurt or sick if they were willing to talk. Fear mongering and violence didn't work as well as one might think. The micros seemed to like Sami, more than they liked some of the other trainers. Especially Nine, who had come to her when his hand had been broken during an accident. He had come to her without her having to ask, which was something rare. Now he was curled so tight, wailing so loud and sobbing. She assumed, whether he would struggle and strain or not, he would like to get out of that mucky pile. Picking him up was a mistake though, because he started to howl so loud, anyone who might have passed by the car would surely hear. And if any of the managers noticed her handful, he would be taken away and she would be fired on the spot, maybe brought up on charges even.
She sighed, and picked up a paper cup that had been filled with coffee in the morning. She opened the top, and poured whatever fluids were left out the window, then as carefully as she could placed Nine down inside, before covering the cup with her hand. Nine calmed down in an instant. Samantha gave a sigh of relief, tilting back in the seat, and once more looking about to be sure that no one was peeking in. Satisfied, she lifted her hand slightly, and tilted her lips down.
"You know the routine, Nine... If you're quiet, and behave, I'll cut your 'time out' short, alright? Do you promise not to scream, or shout?"
"Yes madam," came the little wolf's voice.
Samantha carefully pulled her hand away, but once more, the moment the light inside the car shown inside, Nine gave a loud, wailing scream, so Samantha abruptly shut her paw over the top of the cup. She sighed, and knowing she needed to get going, instead set the cup down between her legs. Holding her hand over the top, she started her car, and calmly drove back to her apartment.
Samantha's apartment was far from anything special: a small, sparse set of rooms, on the second floor of a building that had probably been a motel in a past life. Samantha held the cup that held the tiny wolf close to her chest, keeping the top completely smothered with her paw for fear a scream might alert some passerby to what she was carrying. When she finally arrived at her door, she locked it behind her, set the bolt lock and latch, and drew the blinds of the windows. Only then did she go into the bathroom, and remove her hand from the top of the cup.
There was no scream this time. She peeked inside the cup, and saw Nine had taken up residence on one of the sides, his knees pulled close to his chest and his tail wrapped around him. He was still shivering, though the saliva and contents from her stomach seemed to have mostly dried. It still matted his fur something gross. She tilted the cup onto its side, and carefully slid him down until he plopped gently onto her center pad. "Nine," she said again. "Nine... it's very important that you tell me if anything is wrong."
The micro didn't respond. He lay in her hand, shivering and sobbing lowly; curling tighter and tighter the longer she stared. Samantha ran the water in the sink at a gentle pressure, and carefully moved Nine under it. Muck and slime washed out of his fur quickly, but she kept the water running with lukewarm heat, afraid that he might be cold if she pulled him away.
"Nine," she said again. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about that. I... I didn't know what to do. They opened the box and... none of us were told what would happen. And I saw you. You were the only one I recognized. That... I don't know, maybe that's why I grabbed for you. And I got you. But then what else was I supposed to do? I... I couldn't... If I put you back, then you'd just get grabbed by someone else. And I couldn't just put you in my pocket or just carry you away. I didn't have a choice. I had to!"
She moved Nine out from under the water. He was breathing, though refused to move even slightly from his curled up position. She reached a finger to stroke him, and touched him with her delicate claw. He shivered and howled, but she kept stroking. "Nine... please, say something. It's me... Samantha. You know me. You know I would never hurt you. I wouldn't ever... I'm sorry I did that, but I... you understand don't you? I had to."
Samantha sighed, and once more turned her hand to the side and let him plop down wetly onto the bathroom counter. She sat down on the rim of the shower, setting her head in her hands and trying to relax.
"Who is that?" Nine asked. Samantha lifted her head and looked to the micro wolf, who was standing in front of the bathroom mirror. He kept reaching a paw out, but retracted when the coldness of the polished mirror touched his pad.
"That's your reflection, Nine."
"You... you managed to get some of the micros out of the factory?"
"No... Nine that's not a micro, that's your reflection."
Nine continued to stare, until Samantha stood up and walked back to the counter. Nine looked up to the towering giantess' reflection, starting to move back, until he had crossed the counter and hit the real Samantha's thigh. He twisted and turned, now facing her, as she looked down passively at him. She carefully lowered to one knee, so she was more or less level with him, and stared. "Nine... You remember me, right?"
"Yes, madam."
"You... you can call me Sami. You always used to call me Sami." Nine nodded passively. His little eyes were opened wide, staring at her every move, trying to stare into her eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you, Nine. I promise. I'm sorry what I did, but I had to. Please, are you hurt at all?"
Nine shook his head quickly. Little specs of water flew off his facial fur. Realizing he was still wet, he shook, and did his best to dry himself in a very doggy fashion. He looked himself over, and then turned back to the mirror, once more growing transfixed by the fellow micro who stared at him. And no matter how many times he tried to reach out and touch the micro, no matter how fast he was or how hard he struck, the micro was always faster and struck harder.
"Nine... that's your... forget it. I forgot they don't have mirrors at the factory. Can I pick you up? I want to bring you to the bedroom, if that's alright. I would rather not leave you all alone here. At least in the bedroom... can I pick you up?"
She reached a hand down to the counter. Nine followed her reflection's movements, until the large hand was beside him, and he then looked to her face. Uninterested in her or her paw, he turned back to the mirror, and once more tried to catch the other micro wolf's hand, only to be thwarted for reasons he did not understand. He was getting more and more frustrated with his unbeatable opponent, and growled and snapped several times at it. Samantha carefully pinched Nine by the nape, and tried to lift him. He reached a hand out, hoping to catch his clone, seeing that the mirror giantess was stealing his clone as well, until he was placed down into her opposite hand. The time under the water had cleaned out most of his fur. Samantha herself felt rather filthy, but she could always take a shower tomorrow or later tonight if she could get Nine to sleep. She cringed as he once more curled into a ball, now laying on that familiar grey pad, and held himself tight. But she didn't want to strand him on the counter, so she carried him to the bed. She set him down, very carefully on one of the pillows, before climbing into the bed herself. She never moved much in her sleep. She doubted she would accidentally roll over and squish him. Besides, for the time being, she just lay on her side, staring at him. Several times, she tried to stroke him with her index claw, but always thought better of it, especially after his breathing grew deeper, implying he had fallen asleep.
For that night, she did not sleep. She remained awake, at first staring at the little micro, but when that grew too tiresome, she instead sat up and started to read a book, a magazine, anything that would give the micro his quiet time. She had had the graveyard shift more than once in the breeding factory. There were always so many noises, so many sounds. Nine probably never had a really good sleep in his life. Once, over the course of the night, she went down to her car and cleaned the bile off the passenger seat. Then she crept back into her room, and lay on the bed, quietly reading and occasionally staring at the sleeping micro.
Sleep had done wonders for the little wolf, who seemed to be in a much better mood the following morning. He stirred and yawned, making Samantha's sharp ears twitch at the noise. She turned to look to him, and set her magazine down. "How are you?"
Nine looked to her. For a moment he was confused at why the bedding was so soft, why the smells here so clean, and why Samantha was laying before him and wearing clothing. Then he remembered, and his mood grew solemn. He gave a soft nod, and sat cross-legged on the pillow he had slept on before. Samantha reached past him, and took the remote for the television off the side table, before laying it down before him. She turned the TV on, showing him some of the controls, and then stood off the bed. "I'm going to be in the shower, alright? If you need anything... I'll be back in a few minutes. I promise. Don't worry or anything."
She felt disgusting, as she peeled the dirty clothing off her form. All things considered, the picnic had actually been fun: socializing with everyone when she wasn't naked (it was factory policy that the trainers only wear panties to avoid them smuggling micros out. Trainers also tended to be women, because women could better nurture the little micros). All the heat and dirt, her clothes were quite filthy, and presently clinging to her fur in a nasty. She peeled them off, and left them in a pile in the corner, before taking those first steps into the shower.
The water was warm on her fur, and, much as it had washed the muck and grim out of Nine's fur, soon she was feeling much cleaner. She rinsed salves into her fur, salves that would better clean her and leave her with a scent not unlike cherries. She felt better, stepping out and drying her fur with a blow-dryer, and was going to step out of the bathroom when she remembered she had a... guest. She wrapped a towel around her middle, and walked into the cool air of the main room.
Nine had been doing well. He was sat in front of the remote, straddling it and playing around with the buttons. He seemed to understand the volume control, because it was a bit louder than Samantha would have preferred (she found herself pondering about micro ears), and he had changed the channel to the national news. She was going to ask him how he was doing, but since this was the first time he seemed in a calm state of mind, she decided to just get dressed and leave well enough alone. She had to pass before the TV for a moment, and looked to Nine, but he didn't seem to care. He was fascinated by the news, and tried to shift so he would never lose sight of it when she had to pass before it. Considering his reaction to the mirror, Samantha wouldn't be surprised if he thought that was a parallel universe, where coyote reporters talked about state aggression and draft ages.
She turned her back to Nine, and played with the towel a moment. At the least, at the factory, she had always been allowed to wear panties. No one had ever seen her completely bare. Looking over her shoulder, Nine was quite fixated on the television. No reason to be self-conscious either. He was just a micro after all. She peeled the towel away, and opened the draw. Pulling out a pair of panties, she stepped into them, bending over in the process, and then pulled them up. With a rather small chest, she had never really liked wearing a bra, so just took out a tank top undershirt before turning back to Nine.
He was staring at her, one of his little black paws between his legs and rubbing himself passively. He stared at her without a sense of shame or concern, but she instinctively covered herself, even if she already had something on. "Nine... you can't stare at me like that."
Nine looked to her, confused.
"It... it's not polite. To look at someone like that. Nine... stop rubbing yourself."
Nine's paw moved back to his thigh, and he stared at her passively. She pulled on a pair of clean pants and a button shirt, looking over herself in the mirror, before lying down on the bed beside the tiny micro, who had been staring at her this entire time. His little black erection was still poking out of its sheath, crowning through the brown fur. "I'm going to try and buy you some pants..." she muttered. "Nine, I have to go do some errands. Will you be alright here alone?"
The look of fear on his little face made her cringe.
"You'll be alright here. I'll give you some food and water and let you relax on the bed."
"What if someone comes in and takes me?!" Nine asked, panicked.
"This is my house, Nine. No one will come in."
"What if one of the trainers comes back?! What if someone buys me?! I don't want to be bought! Please, I don't want to be bought..."
Samantha reached a delicate finger forward, and stroked down the little creatures back, in the same way she had to calm him at the factory. It worked, somewhat. Panting he plopped onto the bed, though shivered each time her finger left him, even if it was just to move back to his nape so she could stroke down. "Nine, you're not in the factory anymore. People won't just come in and out. This is my home. I own it... But I won't leave you, Nine. I promise. I just need you to keep calm. Can you do that for me?"
Nine looked to her weakly, and nodded his cute little head. She brushed a hand through her hair, relaxing. "Can I pick you up?" she asked. Nine stared at her passively, not making a gesture that she could or she couldn't. She assumed she could since he didn't fidget or try to run when she pinched two fingers at his nape, and lifted him gently and carefully. She lifted him slowly, and looked over her clothes, trying to think of someplace he might be safe, but out of the way and not easily noticed. Later, perhaps, she would get one of those little collars for him. Then she could keep him in the open, and just say she bought him. But she was worried about just leaving him on her shoulder at the moment. She lifted him to her breast pocket, and carefully slipped him inside. At first his little head peeked over the rim of the pocket, but Nine quickly scooted lower and curled into a little ball, clinging to his knees and wrapping himself up in his long tail.
Nine was surprisingly well behaved; to the point she could easily have forgotten she had a little wolfy in her breast pocket. He didn't whine or howl or scream, he didn't poke her or scratch at her. Even when Samantha saw Jeffrey on the street, and he gave her a friendly hug, and Samantha was afraid that the pressure against little Nine might be uncomfortable, he made not a word. She checked on him as much as she could: when she could duck in the bathroom or was on the bus, she peeked down into her pocket and saw Nine look up at her. His tail wagged and thumped and he smiled and panted, but frowned as she closed her pocket and resumed her errands. But he never whimpered.
It was early evening when she finally got home, locking the door behind her, drawing the blinds, and then peeking into her breast pocket. Nine looked up at her, and gave her that happy smile and pant. She scooped him out, and set him down on the bed beside her. "How are you doing?"
"I'm alright Sami. How are you?"
Samantha smiled slightly. "My feet are a bit sore from all the walking. I dropped my car off at the cleaners. They gave me some odd looks, and said it won't be ready till Monday. Oh well. Nice to walk sometimes."
Nine looked down. "I can rub your feet ma'am, if you would like."
Samantha sighed. "No Nine, I don't want you to rub my feet. Thank you though." She lay on her side, resting her head on her pillow, and reached a finger to stroke the little nude wolf. "How are you doing? Are you alright? You've never been outside of the factory."
"I..." Nine paused, thinking. "I'm fine, Sami. Thank you."
"You're hungry, I'm betting."
Nine looked down, as if in shame. He rubbed his stomach slowly, groaning and biting his lip. He backed away, on instinct, as if her words might be a trap. She traced a finger down him. "This isn't a trap, Nine. I'm genuinely asking. Your kind has a faster metabolism than my kind. I don't even know how you're standing up."
She cooked some eggs for him, and brought them to the bed. With her own fork, she ate some, while little Nine simply shoveled pawfuls into his mouth. He lowered onto all fours, climbing onto the plate. Never before had he had so much food before him, and seemed terrified that another micro might come along and fight him for a portion. At first Samantha was going to allow him to eat his fill, but was afraid he might succumb to refeeding syndrome. Plucking him up by the tail, she pulled him back. Nine pawed rather cutely in the air, trying to obtain the food that was now just out of grasp. Several loud whimpers escaped him, as did a few curses. Samantha placed the plate on the side table, out of reach of the wolf, before rolling onto her back, and placing him down on her stomach.
She had seen Nine six days a week for almost three years now, yet it still seemed so odd to have him plopped on her belly like this. In the factory, the micros were held in massive pits, while the trainers all stood about it. When a specific micro needed to be addressed, he was told to move to one of the containment chambers, where he could be sealed off in a transport case, and brought to the individual trainer's work station. She spent a lot of time a week with Nine, making sure he was eating, making sure he wasn't sick. If she could have succeeded in smuggling just one micro out of that blasted factory, it would have been Nine. And now she had him. And she didn't have a damn idea what she was doing.
"Are you... thirsty Nine? Or cold maybe?"
"Tired," Nine said with a slight shrug.
"I... yeah, I didn't sleep that well last night either. I would like to."
She scooped Nine up in her hand, and placed him down once more on the pillow, before standing and stripping quickly. In her panties and undershirt, she climbed into bed, laying down once more and staring at Nine. "Would you like the TV on? Or a water bottle? Or a water dish?"
"I'm fine, Sami, thank you."
"Are you sure you don't want to watch the TV? You're staring at me?"
Nine's ears bent, and his tail went limp, but he muttered, "You're staring at me too..."
"I'm sorry," she said lowly, resting her head down. "Wow, taking you home seemed like such a better idea before I actually took you home."
"I'm sorry," Nine whimpered again, sounding like he was on the verge of tears.
"No... it's fine Nine. My mom and dad used to tell me about micros. They were micro supporters. I don't really know why. It wasn't something you asked about, just... that's how it was. That's what my dad and mom said. I think they were just hippies back when it was cool to be, and they never learned to get with the times. They pissed off a lot of people though, because they attended protests and rallies. It never really got past arguments at the local diner or hardware store, until it got past arguments. And... well, I learned one thing from them: that you can't always stand in the spotlight and shout about doing the right thing. Because, you'll get killed. My dad had his morals, his ethics, and he always did the right thing. The other guy had a gun. Guess who won."
Nine was staring at her, with that empty gaze that she didn't like. She sighed, and her ears bent, and closed her eyes. She could hear Nine's little claws scraping over the pillow, and suddenly felt his little paw on her pink nose, stroking her. She opened her eyes, and tilted her head a little lower down. "I... I'm sorry that... the other guy... had a gun...?"
Samantha couldn't help but smile, despite the situation. Nine was smart. She was sure of that. But, he just didn't understand a lot of things. Of course, how could she blame him? The trainers taught him eight ways to pleasure a woman, but why would a simple micro need to know anything other than how to be a good toy or snack?
Still, he was smart. He understood loss just fine. "I had friends... in the factory. And they were taken. Is it like that?"
"I suppose," Samantha said.
"Then... I... I'm sorry... that you were sad..."
Samantha blinked. She yawned suddenly, without control, given she hadn't slept much in almost forty-eight hours. When she had closed her mouth and her vision adjusted, she noticed Nine had been knocked over by the force of her breath. "S-Sorry..." she said. She settled in, just wanting to sleep, and folded her arms underneath her pillow. She never moved much in her sleep, and she doubted Nine would venture too close. Besides, she did want him to be comfortable, and he seemed comfortable as he could get. "Tomorrow, I think I'll call in sick at the factory. Say that micro I ate at the picnic, he's still keeping me up." She giggled softly. "Besides, I really need to get you a pair of pants... Now stop rubbing yourself and go to sleep."