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Tales Of Morveria: Pethouse #01 - The Hunter’s Prey

A Thieving Mouse Bites Off More Than She Can Chew.

By Mantrid Brizon

Creeping through the forest in the early hours of the morning, the lone Vostii of the mouse-kin stays low to the ground as she makes her way toward the delectable scent. Her stomach growls, causing her to pause. She looks down at her flat belly and shushes it, resting a clawed hand on it as if to comfort it. She moves closer and closer, the slow wind blowing in her direction. It flutters her long, dark brown hair and tickles the exposed portions of her slate gray fur. She sniffs the air with her pink nose, her nostrils flaring, but the wind carries no scent.

She slowly stands to her feet, which are pink, hairless and have four large toes with sharp claws crowning each toe. Her fleshy tail sways as she leans around a tree. At all of fifteen-hands tall and barely one-hundred pounds, she’s a very dainty creature. Her slim figure is decidedly feminine, with sleek curves, a slender waist, broad hips and large, milky breasts. Her rather impressive bust has always felt like the heaviest part of her body. She wears only simple flax clothes, made by a long-dead member of her ruined tribe; they barely cover her, leaving most of her arms, legs and midriff exposed to the cool air.

She looks over her shoulders, her large, rounded ears listening for the subtlest of sounds. After a cautious moment, she hears nothing and decides to press on. Her stomach growls again, having not had food in nearly three days. Ever since the destruction of her tribe, she’s been alone, and nothing is more dangerous for a young, fertile female of breeding age than to be alone. Only luck has kept her alive this long, as she was never the most skilled; if she could hunt and forage like the others, she wouldn’t be resorting to scavenging.

Approaching the alluring aroma, she tilts her head back and sniffs the air. It’s so close, now! Using all of her senses, she hears a taut rope as it sways. Looking up and into the trees, she finds a large sack hanging from the branches. There it is! The hunter’s kill! Following the rope, she finds it tied to a branch in the tree. With only a broken stone knife at her disposal, the tip chipped from improper use, she hastily tries to cut the rope. The fragile blade has dulled over time, and she frantically saws at the rope to break it. All she needs is one chunk of meat!

“Stop!” A bellowing voice growls in Ancient Hitrosii, the Vostii’s native tongue.

Bushes shake and heavy footfalls approach. Before she can even turn her head, a violent tackle throws the Vostii of the mouse-kin to the ground, her old, dull knife flying out of her hand and disappearing into the foliage! She lands with a thud on her side, only to be rolled onto her belly by the stranger, who’s clawed hands grab the back of her head and neck. She can see a thumb as the person sits on her lower back. Their hand is covered in short fur and their opaque white claw looks quite sharp.

“Chelovek! Chelovek!” The person shouts.

Hearing them more clearly, it sounds like a female, though her voice is warm contralto. Is she calling more of her kin? Will they hurt or kill her for her thievery?! She was certain the food was unattended, but as she recalls she was downwind; her hunger has clearly clouded her judgement. Fearful of what’s to come, the Vostii of the mouse-kin struggles to escape, trying in vain to push her attacker off of her back and wriggle free. She only succeeds in angering the person on her back, who shoves her face into the dirt, one side of snout pressing into the soft soil and choking a nostril.

“Master! Hurry!” The person exclaims.

Master?! The mouse girl’s body begins to tremble at a terrifying realization.

“What?! What[’s] wrong?!” A male’s voice exclaims, also speaking her native tongue.

Her heart races. The footfalls are much heavier, thumping loudly as the unseen male approaches.

“I capture[d a] thief!” The female chirps.

“I see!” The male chuckles.

With her head turned and pushed into the dirt, the Vostii of the mouse-kin cannot see the man nor his female companion. As she tries to wriggle free, the person on her back grabs a wrist, pulls her arm behind her back and yanks it upward. The poor mouse yelps and freezes, instantly under the control of the stranger.

“Careful, Tsuka.” The male remarks.

“Sorry, Master.” Tsuka replies, easing her grip. “What [do] you want me [to] do with her?”

“Lift her up.” He instructs.

Tsuka pulls back but then grabs the poor, defenseless mouse by her armpits. She yanks her to her feet with ease, slipping her arms around the mouse’s and placing her hands on the back of her neck in a surprisingly effective hold which spreads her arms apart. With her heart racing, the Vostii of the mouse-kin keeps her eyes closed and begins to plead.

“Please! My name [is] ‘Misha!’ I [am] alone! I [am] hungry! Please, [do] no[t] harm me!”

She whimpers and nearly cries as she hears the male, “Chelovek,” stepping closer. He rests a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump, then uses his other hand to wipe the dirt from her face. Misha trembles with fear, too scared to open her eyes. She dares not look upon the male, lest she anger him.

“Look...” He suddenly commands.

If she disobeys, he may hurt her, but if she looks him in the eyes, it could be seen as a challenge. What is she to do?! After a moment of hesitation, Misha does as she’s told and very slowly and sheepishly opens her eyes and turns her head. Her sapphire spheres widen at the sight of the male. Her fears are confirmed; he’s Yasheriit! The race who call themselves “human” are well-known and feared. Though physically inferior to the beast races, their intelligence is vastly superior, and for this they have conquered much of Morveria. Her tribe had avoided contact with the humans for generations.

“You have [a] pretty face.” Chelovek remarks, brushing the dirt from her.

“Th-thank you...” Misha whimpers, still shivering with fear.

“Where [is] your tribe?” He asks.

“Uh...” Misha hesitates.

“Answer him!” Tsuka roars into her ear.

“Dead!” She exclaims.

“Everyone?!” Chelovek raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Yes... Sickness ravage[d] my people, then [a] drought. We travel[ed], search[ed] for water but found [a] hostile tribe. They attack[ed] us, [and] kill[ed] everyone. They [did] not even claim [the] females for breeding. I have been alone for months...” Misha shamefully admits.

She isn’t lying. The strange illness first claimed the old, then the very young, and then the healthy. The men died in droves, leaving behind the strongest of the children and a horde of heartbroken females. Some were already pregnant, and hoped that their sons, along with the handful of males not taken by the disease, would be enough to salvage their tribe. Then the drought came. When they wandered, they encountered another tribe and immediately surrendered to the superior force - many females would’ve welcomed the males of the cat-kin into their huts and taken their seed into their loins for the sake of joining them - but the hostile tribe killed everyone they found, as if on a genocidal mission. Misha barely escaped with her life.

“You [do] no[t] look like you [were] very successful.” Chelovek comments, his eyes slowly scanning the beast woman.

“Yes. She [is] rather skinny.” Tsuka agrees.

With her head bowed forward because of Tsuka’s hands, Misha has to turn her blue eyes even more to look up at the man who stands about three hands taller than her. He has a healthy build; he’s obviously strong but not extremely muscular. With a light tan from many days in the sunlight, his skin has a light sheen. Wavy brown hair reaches nearly to his shoulders and he has a neatly trimmed goatee on his angular jaw and prominent chin. Big, green eyes look into hers, causing her stomach to flutter. She has only seen a few humans in her life, and they have always intrigued her; he is by far the most attractive.

“I [do] no[t] think she [is] very skinny...” Chelovek remarks, a hand cupping a breast and lifting it. “No, she [is] no[t] skinny at all.”

“P-please, [do] no[t] touch me!” Misha pleads, the fear returning.

Chelovek pauses, his face expressing mild surprise. He turns his eyes toward the best woman who clings to Misha and flashes a strange smile.

“What [do] we do with her, Master?”

Chelovek eyes Misha’s form for a moment, scanning her from head to toe. He takes another step closer, a hand reaching down to adjust his manhood within his human garments. His other hand reaches out and caresses Misha’s furry side, causing her to jolt and tremble.

“This Vostii [is] very pretty...” He comments in a surprisingly soft voice. “We had [a] good hunt, yes?” He asks Tsuka.

“Yes! [A] very good hunt!” Tsuka agrees.

“Perhaps we [will] share.”

“Master?!” Tsuka gasps.

“[Did] I say ‘share?’ I meant ‘trade.’” He swiftly corrects.

“Mmm...” Tsuka coos.

“T-trade?” Misha whimpers, looking up at the human.

“Would you like [to] earn your food?”

“... How?”

Chelovek’s lips curl into a sinister smile as he suddenly grabs onto the bottom hem of the fragile, flax top that barely cover’s Misha’s large and perky breasts. With a firm and confident motion, he lifts it up and her womanly mounds slip free from her top, bouncing as they fall and as she begins to wriggle in her growing panic.

“W-what [are] you do[ing]?!” She gasps, trying to slither away from him.

“[Do] no[t] move!” Tsuka growls.

“Ooh-yes... You may pay me for food...” Chelovek coos, fondling her large breasts, which spill out of his hands. “I [will] take your body!”

“EEE!”

Misha screams as the human suddenly grabs her lower garment and yanks it down, exposing her innocent womanhood! ...

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Tsuka lifts her top off her body, exposing her modest breasts. They are lovely little mounds of feminine flesh that would fill Chelovek’s hands, though they are nothing by comparison; Misha’s chest is so much larger. The Vostii of the dog-kin pinches her own dark pink nipples and massages her womanly mounds before reaching out and resting a hand on Chelovek’s back...

A smile spreads across his lips at the sight of Tsuka’s nudity. His companion and lover has removed her skirt and now stands with her womanhood hovering in front of his face. Tsuka’s fingers spread her taut pussy... Her white claws press into the dark pink flesh of her nether lips, and Chelovek is more than happy to lean in and kiss them, lapping at her womanhood like a thirsty animal...

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Grabbing her braided pigtails, Chelovek pulls Tsuka up until she kneels. He’s a very forceful man, and Tsuka winces as he pulls her hair. Her steep angle forces her to rest her clawed hands against his chest for support...

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Within moments, she’s sitting atop his lap, his big balls pressed firmly against her small buttocks as she takes him in his entirety. She begins rocking her hips...

Chelovek holds onto her hips, a little smile on his face as his loyal pet goes above and beyond to please him, clearly basking in her attention...

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Thanks for reading the teaser! If you’d like to see the full story (38 pages and 10,8xx words worth) then you can find it on my Patreon page (my patreon!) behind a measly $3 paywall! That was the admission fee for the parking lot at my local trade center. Lol.