The Chosen ~ Pt.8

Posted by Doctor Szalinski on February 07, 2004 at 18:15:30:


The Chosen


Doctor Szalinski


"He made me listen!"

The words rang through Clara's head, bouncing back and forth in her skull, like the echoes in that Kentucky cavern. "My own mother!"

Unlike those echoes, however, these words did not fade with their passing. They kept on, undiminished. Randomly, relentlessly, mocking her. "...While I digested..!"

Tia was still on her knees, her body trembling slightly from her sobbing. Chi was kneeling by her, stroking her hair, cooing gentle words of encouragement. Desperately trying to comfort the stricken girl. Arin said nothing. She was standing at the edge of her compartment, her hands tightly gripping the bars that separated it from Tia's, slowly knocking her head against them. Inwardly cursing herself, blaming herself for not warning Tia and her mother, Clara was certain. "I should have known!"

"She was my MOTHER!"

Clara said nothing. Did nothing. She couldn't even think of anything to say. Everything that came to her shocked mind sounded trite. even stupid. What does one say to the person that they had just caused to recall such a traumatic event? What could one say?

"...Digested..!" "...Made me listen..!" "...My own MOTHER!"

Certain that there was nothing she could do that wouldn't just make things worse, Clara hung her head and quietly retreated to her pillow. Laying on her back with her hands on her chest, she stared blankly at the galvanized ceiling, as if somehow it's crystalline surface might give forth some as yet unknown revelation. But none came. It remained as cold and uncaring as ever to the horrors endured by those it incarcerated.

"How could I have been so crass?" Clara chided herself.

"How could you have known?" Came the instinctive defense. "After all, she was very cruel to you, wasn't she?"

"Still, it's not right to judge someone without at least trying to know the whole story, you know that!"

How long this mental argument continued, or when it ended, Clara had no idea, for suddenly, she
heard the click of the door and awoke with a start. She hadn't even known she had fallen asleep. The others were quiet. Tia was no longer sobbing, perhaps Chi had succeeded in comforting her. Or perhaps she had just gotten over the immediate trauma by herself.

As Clara sat up, she saw that the others had, like her, retired to their own "beds". As Bubala approached, they got up and went to the front of the cage. Not with the enthusiasm of the day before, of course, but certainly in better spirits than earlier on.

"Sorry I'm a bit late, ladies, it took a little longer than...hey, why the long faces? He asked inquisitively. "I thought you would be glad to see me?"

As one, all three girls looked at Tia. "Ahhh..." he said, "I think I get it. Did someone bring up Tia's mom?"

Clara thought she saw Tia's eyes mist up. but she didn't cry. Bubala must have seen something too, because his face twisted up and he lightly clucked his tongue.

"Hmmm." He said. "Well. I had planned to let one of you guys help season tonight's dinner, but I'll understand if you're not in the mood."

At that, all three looked up, their mouths open, like children suddenly confronted with the possibility of being denied something they thought they might like. Clara looked up at Bubala. He raised one eyebrow.

"You sure you're up to it?" he asked.

The three nodded, some of their former enthusiasm returning. Clara had to admit, even she was a little eager. What was so exciting about being asked to help season a dish that, based on her brief experience, was probably already prepared to such a degree of perfection that it needed no further enhancement?

"Let's see, then..." Bubala started, mocking deep concentration. "Who shall I pick..?" And he raised the lid of their cage.

Clara was sure he had already made his choice. Was it her? She suddenly found herself wondering if she really wanted to know about this seasoning thing! As he removed his hand from his chin and began to reach down into her portion, Clara froze, her heart in her throat. The other's looked at her jealously. But Clara would have gladly have given up the "honor" they thought she was receiving. She wanted to know just exactly what this seasoning entailed before she had anything to do with it personally!

Just then, Bubala's hand stopped descending. "No..." He said, reconsidering "I don't think you're quite ready yet."And to Clara's immeasurable relief, withdrew his hand.

Renewed hope appeared in the other's eyes. Bubala continued. "I thing Arin would be the better choice this time. It has been a while anyway," He asked. "Hasn't it my little Indian princess?"

"A couple of weeks." She replied, her voice slightly choked with excitement. Clara felt happy for her. Of course this was mostly because it was Arin and not her that Bubala had chosen!

As Bubala reached down towards Arin, she stretched her arms upward, then disappeared within his relatively massive grasp. all that could be seen of Arin were her arms as the giant hand rose out of the cage and the lid was lowered.

Clara drew her attention towards the tray Bubala had brought in. There were the four doll house bowls, and a huge one that was actually only a normal size cereal bowl in Bubala-scale. Clara could see nothing that looked like it might contain the seasoning, though. Maybe it was hidden behind the large bowl? Clara returned her attention to Bubala and the hand that held Arin.

Clara wondered whether he would enlarge her or she would have to season the meal at her present size. She hoped he would enlarge her, maybe she could see where he kept the device...Clara suddenly stopped, remembering where that train of thought had led before.

But Bubala never did bring out the shrink/growth ray. Instead, he undid the cord of his pants and they fell away, revealing his slightly swollen cock. "What the..?" Clara wondered, as Bubala lowered his hand down. When he had brought it under his member he opened it. Clara could see Arin laying on her back, and when his hand was directly underneath his penis, she spread her arms and legs out. Then Bubala wrapped his fingers (and Arin) around himself.

Suddenly Clara realised just how Arin was going to help him "season" the food! She knew that it didn't really have much of a taste (it was mainly salty), and the amount would be relatively insignificant. Still, she couldn't help the queasy feeling in her stomach at the thought of his semen mixed in with her dinner!

As she watched, he began stroking himself. Although all she couldn't see anything of the person in his hand, her mind was able to provide the image, since she herself had recently been in the same situation. As his masturbation increased, she visualised Arin's rugged physique being squeezed between his fingers and his ever hardening cock. She remembered all to vividly the crushing pressure, the feeling that her breasts would be ground to a pulp, or that the entire front of her body was going to be ripped off at it was ground mercilessly against his throbbing hardness.

Yet even her own memories seemed less harrowing compared to what it looked like Arin was being called upon to endure! It seemed even worse when seen from the outside. Was he this rough with her? Clara mind was suddenly filled with the grizzly image of Arin's otherwise tough body being smashed within Bubala's ferocious grip like a bug underfoot! By now, he was beating himself off furiously, as if he didn't even care that there was a human being, a person inside that crushing grip. Let alone what it might do to that person.

The others didn't seem to care either. They had begun cheering her on "C'mon Arin! Give it to him" "That's the way, you go girl! Clara glared at them, but said nothing. They had said that this could even be enjoyable, yet Clara was finding this to be even harder to believe now than before! "Go with the flow." Tia's words came back to her. Was Arin "going with the flow"? Clara couldn't see how anyone could in that circumstance!

Bubala was jerking around spasmotically now, obviously very near orgasm. Suddenly, he stopped stroking with his fist held hard against his groin, the end of his hard penis sticking out above the bowl. With a groan, he tightened his grip until the knuckles went white and gobs of fluid squirted out into it. Clara closed her eyes against the crunching sound she knew she would hear.

But there was no crunch. Bubala relaxed and slowly released his grip. As he pulled his fist, Clara braced herself against what she might see. But he raised his hand before she had a good view of what was inside and, opening the top of the cage, he lowered Arin back into her compartment.

Clara's heart jumped back into her throat as Arin's limp form slid out from his fingers onto her pillow. "Please, oh please God, let her be OK!" Clara prayed. "If not, at least let her demise have been quick!" But to her relief, and utter amazement, Arin's arms came up and fell back above her head. A loud, trembling sigh of pleasure erupted from her chest. One of relief came from Clara!