Of Dreams and Vows (Jinko)

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“Journal of Brother Frances Bolvar, monk,” Frances wrote, scribbling on the crinkled and stained page of his loosely bound book.

The campfire flickered, but the shadows of the night made what he had written barely legible in the darkness. He coughed, aware of the stabbing pain in his lungs, as he set his quill back to the page and tried to reposition himself. The old log he was laying against was wet, and he felt it even through the wool of his robe.

“It has been two days since I washed ashore in this strange land. By my reckoning it is November the eighth, in the two hundredth year since The Arrival…”

He stopped for a moment to consider the voyage, and his coming to this spot between five titanic trees. The voyage had been rough, the sailors coarse and the soldiers bored. Then when they came to the cove, a storm befell them, and with it the sea monsters attacked.

As he languished in this foreign jungle, he had decided that he should start writing down his experiences, partly to take his mind off his misery and also to to stop his constant thoughts of the uneasy darkness beyond the flickering light of his small camp.

The fire was a blessing from the Lord, and without it he was sure that this place would have consumed him. The wood in the jungle had been far too wet to use to start a fire, but he had managed to grab some driftwood from the beach, and brought it up to this spot to act as kindling. With trembling hands he had used his flint to start a small flame, then added small branches to it and nurtured it with careful blowing. In time he had gotten a goodly flame going. The wood hissed as it burned.

He coughed again, and returned to his writing. “I am growing weaker. My fever worsens. Though the air is nothing but hot and wet, I feel chills. My body aches…” he wrote.

He stopped to cough, expelling a thick red substance onto the jungle floor. He huddled nearer the campfire as the alien hoots and chirps raged all around him. The jungle was like none he had ever been in. The wildlife here was queer and wild, exotic. He had seen tall, immense animals, like dragons but land bound, with long necks that allowed them to pull leaves from the tall trees.

“Need has compelled me to move inward, away from the shore, away from where those hideous tentacles grasped at me,” he wrote, feeling a sense of foreboding. The grasping tentacles, the way they had grabbed those other men and pulled them into the salty cold waters, had filled him with revulsion. He had known he could not stay on the beach.

“The storms struck, but there were things beneath the churning waters, following our ships. They struck as the waves rose and fell, and the rains fell down on us. Water was everywhere. Masts snapped and sails fell. The boats were torn to shreds. Cannons fell into the water and sank like stones. But men…men were grasped, and pulled with eyes full of terror down below. A tentacle grasped for me, and I swore I saw a woman’s face staring at me. A mamono perhaps, but an aquatic one? Such is unknown to us. But I kicked free. I clung to some flotsam, and everything went black ”

He took a sip of water. That had been easy enough to come by, as the jungle was lush with water and a stream had been not too far from shore with running fresh water. Food had proven difficult, until he found the tree with the strange green and red fruit that he now camped beneath. The fruit had proven tasty and juicy, but he was growing tired of them, and it took very many to satisfy his hunger. Eating had become a chore and lately he found he did not have the energy to climb and get more fruit. It had become increasingly difficult.

He winced, clutching at his stomach as a cramp hit. He was unsure if it was the water or the damned fruit which had done this to him, or if it was the very mist he breathed. He lay down upon his cloak, taking stock of his equipment stretched our before him.

He had his book, a quill, and inkwell, which he had managed to keep with him during the tumult. He also had raided the beach for a few supplies: a flint and tinder, a knife, and a sharpened stick that he had carved and told himself was a spear. It lay unused beside him. This was an unfortunate time to be a scribe and a monk.

A soldier would have probably built a structure, slain a wild pig, and cooked and eaten well. He would probably not be sick. But he was not a soldier. He had always been a slight man, brittle and sickly. He had come at the behest of his order to chronicle the new land, this adventure. He had looked forward to venturing beyond the monastery walls and to the lands he had heard about, and to see the exotic beasts and monstergirls he had read stories of in the thick and dusty tomes of the monastery. He left, eager for a true experience, a true adventure. Instead he would chronicle his own death.

He considered sleep, but the pain of the waking world and thought of the dreams made him reconsider. He grasped up his book again, and the quill and ink. He dipped his quill into the inkwell and began to scribble again.

“I see black shadow-things in my dreams,” he wrote.

He stared at the words on the page, watching the hissing flames of the campfire flicker on the yellow paper and dark ink. He wondered if writing the words had been a mistake, as if he had given a terrible thing that had only existed in his mind a kind of life. He took a deep breath and committed to putting them to the page.

“The shadow-things are long and tall, almost like lines of ink harvested from a creature of the deep. They stretch down from the sky and cast shadows on the ground where they touch it, bending like sunbeams of dark. They flicker and skip as they move, and their arms writhe and lurch forward like tree branches with the sounds like an avalanche. I fear them. I fear sleep, for they will come. Always stalking. I run but cannot move, they always advance.”

He stared at the words, and felt deeply tired. He feared to sleep again, but being awake hurt so badly. It was trading one hell for another, going from nightmarish real world to nightmarish dream world.

He was beginning to nod off -and not pleased about that- when he heard something in the woods, a kind of trilling sound. He fearfully lifted up his sharpened stick-spear, aware of how heavy it seemed in his arms.

“W-who is there?” Frances called into the dark with a scratchy voice. His mind raced. Had one of the terrible beings of his nightmares come to life?

He stood, and wincing, he looked about. He could not tell from where the trilling was from. Then all at once a large figure landed, and closer to him than he would have liked.

The tiger-woman landed quietly before him, from one of the trees. He recognized her as a Jinko as described in East Idia, but this one seemed a bit taller than stocky. Her striped tail flicked. She was swift, lithe, and muscular, and she moved with both precision and obvious power. Her form was well defined, with full hips and breasts, and a stomach that was hard muscle that glistened with sweat. She towered over him, making him look like a small boy before a grown woman.

She had a straw-thatched shield and a spear tipped with a rough triangle of volcanic glass. Though crude, it was doubtless quite sharp, but she put these down with a grin.

He backed up, and vainly tried to point his spear at her, to keep her back. Her grin faded, and she stared at him with hard eyes. She moved as a blur with a roar that almost terrified him into dropping his spear. She effortlessly seized it from his hands and grasped him, lifting him from the ground with a growl. “Chontali okichtli!” She said, her eyes flashing.

In his state, this was too much for Frances, and he began to cough from the exertion. The stabbing pain filled his lungs, and he wretched. He saw her clenched teeth soften, and her face twist into what might have been horror. She set him down on the ground swiftly, laying him with gentle care upon his cloak. Her giant paw touched his face, feeling at his brow, and she stared into his eyes.

“Ti kokoxki…” the Jinko said, alarmed. “…I uil kui teuanik nopetauh…” she added softly, putting her paw on his cheek.

He was hoisted onto her powerful shoulders, resting against them. He groaned as she picked him up, and he felt his head swim. She carried him gently and with ease, and bounded through the woods lightly away from his campfire, which she doused with her foot. The exertion of being captured exhausted him. He found the jostling strangely lulling, and he drifted into a feverish sleep. And then nightmares came.

In his dream, he was on rolling hills of sickly green grass, tall grass which swayed in a wind he could not feel. The sky was black and starless, though the plain was lit like noon. The air was hot, and filled with the harsh stinging cries of some unseen, horrible crickets and frogs. As these Noisy Watchers cried out in a mixture of laugh and growl, the Shadow Things appeared along the distant treeline. Each time he blinked, they came closer.

“…foreign devil…” one Shadow Thing snarled in a voice of whispers. “You are ours. We will hunt you on these plains forever…We will put our fingers in your eyes…we will make you scream…”

“…all men must suffer…” another said, approaching him from the side. “…all men must die…”

“…filth…the jungle hates you…” a third said.

He tried to run as they loomed closer, but he could not move. He was planted like a tree, and his legs would not rise. He saw long, tendril-like fingers reaching out from thin black arms at his face. He saw white grins on the black forms, opening wide as pink tongues emerged and dripped mucus.

It was a dream, be told himself. Just a dream.

“…this is a dream…” one said, hearing his thoughts as his hand loomed closer.

“…but we are not…”

He opened his mouth to cry out, to scream, but no sound came forth. He was frozen, only able to watch the looming sentinels of death approach him. The tendrils reached out. He couldn’t breathe, or see anything but the blackness of the outstretched claw. The tendrils were entering into his eyes, and the pain was searing.

Suddenly he was screaming, but he was awake, and the Jinko’s face was over his. He was in a thatched roof hut lit by flickering torches.

“Amo…” the Jinko said, quietly, soothingly. She rubbed his face in her paws. “Amo…Amokuali kochistin…”

He groaned in terror, his heart still racing, but his head throbbing and stomach churning in pain. “Oh…oh God…” he said. Tears were in his eyes. The agony was immense.

“Shhhhh…shhhh….” The Tigress whispered. She put a paw to her mouth and made a worried sound. Swiftly she reached behind her back, and her top went slack. She removed it and flung it on the ground. Even despite his fever, Frances’ eyes widened.

He had only ever seen breasts in paintings, or glimpses of his sisters in the normal life on a crowded farm. But in those cases it could do no justice to what he saw now. The breasts were heavenly and perfect. The Tigress put one of her paws to her perfectly round, spherical breast.

“Kua,” the Jinko said, her voice a plea. She put her nipple out to him. White milk began to pool on the pointed tip.

Despite his fever and the surreal nature of her inexplicable act, he recalled the vows of his order. As a monk, such an act was improper. He shook his head, panting. “I…I cannot-” he said.

The Jinko’s teeth clenched, revealing her fangs. She leaned in, nostrils flared and eyes shining. “Kua!” She said with a growl.

She grasped him by the back of the head, and pressed her nipple forcefully into his mouth, squirting her warm milk onto his tongue. The taste was strongly of smoke and spice, yet despite its intensity it was an intoxicating taste.

His stomach rumbled as the Tigress’ milk began pouring in. He swallowed his first mouthful, and the warm, soothing draught of Jinko liquid made its way down his throat. The relief was almost instant. He took in a breath of air as his head seemed to clear and the warmth flowed through his blood and to every part of his body.

The milk filled him, and the weight of it settled inside his stomach, driving away all the nausea and the cramps. There had to be some kind of antidote in the breast milk, he thought. It was some counter to the strange bad water or food.

“Mochikaualis ka kuitlapantli, yeh,” she said in a tone both proud and calm, as he continued to lap greedily at the delicious, wonderful, wonderful liquid which drove the awful feelings and pain away. She closed her mouth in a smile, but emitted a kind of trilling sound as he continued to suck on his Jinko nursemaid’s full breasts. He knew enough about Jinkos to know this was called Chuffing, and the sound gave the same soothing effect to his ears that her milk gave to his stomach.

She rubbed the back of his head affectionately, and he continued to lick, suckle, and swallow the milk from her breasts until his stomach sloshed with Tiger Milk. Her nipples were so tasty, and as the milk obliterated the disease he found the feel of her breasts on his lips to arouse him. There was nothing quite as firm and soft, and the texture and taste coupled with the milk made him lose himself. His kisses and licking became less about feeding and more about worshipping.

These large, full breasts needed to be worshipped, for they were heavenly and exquisite, and gave the precious healing elixir. He began to kiss her cleavage, alternating which nipple he was licking, desperate to taste both at once.

“Yeika apitsmikik!” She said with a laugh at his animated sucking and kissing of her breasts. She fanned her face with a paw, then stroked his hair with patient yet controlling strokes. It felt wonderful, and as his belly settled and the headache in his brow subsided, he was aware that her warm lap was soothing away his chills, and her powerful arms and tight, sweaty abs were pressing against him.

The only discomfort was in his groin, where his penis had become engorged to aching pain by his attention to the tiger woman’s soft, full breasts. But this also filled him with guilt and shame, for he had sworn vows of celibacy as a monk, and this was perilously close to violating them. He was so desperate for a cure he did not dwell on his decision. Even despite this, his full belly and freshly cleared head filled him with a powerful urge to sleep.

Frances fell into a deep slumber, and there were no horrible fields or awful insects snarling. His dreams were of a warm bed and a gentle breeze by the sea, and of being pressed against the Jinko girl’s breasts. In his dream he was drinking the wonderful warm milk and having it leak down his chin and chest, and kissing Jinko breasts and listening to her pleasant chuffing.

And yet, he saw the dark Shadow Things just beyond the Jinko and by the sea. They were watching, hovering just on the horizon. But they could not touch him, could not come near him. The milk had seemingly protected him from them, and he knew that. So did they. He was safe, and his sleep was restful.

When he woke, it was in her arms, nuzzled under her chin as she gripped him to her chest like a beloved doll. Her face was smiling. As he stirred, her eyes opened, and the deep blue skies of her eyes stared at him.

A great smile came to her face, and he could see her long canines. “Ma kuali tonalli,” she said with a chuff. She smiled and brushed the hair from his eyes. “…Ketsaltik…”

“G-good morning,” he whispered. “Thank you for…for saving my life.” He tried to wriggle from her grasp, but her arms held him tight as she stared at him. She smiled, aware of the large fangs in her pretty grin.

Frances struggled, and she smiled as he did so. She understood that he wanted to get free, but she had no intention of letting him. She grinned, and pulled him in closer.

“I…I can’t…” he protested. “Please.”

She saw the plea in his eyes, and with an amused twinkle, she stroked his hair and released him.

He scrambled free, knocking over a small pot near the blankets as he moved. He took his first good look around the structure. It was a circular clay hut with a thatched roof of branches, with a hole in the center for the fireplace to let up its smoke. The fireplace itself was darkened, its embers extinguished. There was no door on the hut, and Frances reasoned this was because there was nothing which a Jinko feared in the jungle. Even among the wild mamono races, they were considered among the strongest, with senses that made them nearly impossible to surprise.

Her spear and shield hung from the wall on hooks of bone, along with a bow and arrow which looked thick as a small tree. He marveled at the strength that must be necessary to pull such a drawstring.

He panted as he moved to the opposite side of the hut, near a low table with some clay pots. His heart raced and he felt out of breath. Clearly the disease was still affecting him. By the gleam in her blue eyes and her devilish grin, Frances knew that she was watching his flustered attempt to maintain distance with amusement.

“W-What is your name?” Frances asked, hoping to change her focus.

She blinked at him, uncomprehending.

“I am Frances,” he said. He pointed at his chest. “Frances. What is your name?”

She stared at him slowly with her big, blue eyes. “Kotona,” she said in her clear voice, pointing at her wonderful, life-saving bosom. “Ni Kotona.”

He smiled. It was a beautiful name, he thought. “Kotona,” he said. He pointed at her with his finger.

Kotona smiled again, showing her large fangs, and Frances had to admit that it was quite pleasant to see her grin. He pointed at his chest. “Frances. Brother Frances…”

“Amo,” Kotona said, shaking her head and rolling her pretty blew eyes. “Amo, ‘Budder Fansess…'” she said. She leaned in with a gleam and a smile. “Ti…Ti Ketsaltik…” she said with a dreamy tone.

“What, me?” He asked.

She giggled. “Ketsaltik!” She said, her eyes gleaming. She pointed at herself excitedly. “Ni…Ni Kotonoa,” she said. She pointed at him. “…Ti?”

“Ti?” He asked. He cleared his throat. “Ni…” he almost said Brother Frances, and he knew he should, but he found himself unable to say the words. “Ni…Ketsaltlik?” He asked.

“KetsalTIK,” Kotona corrected with a quite pleasant giggle.

“Ketsaltik,” he said with a laugh. “Ni Ketsaltik.”

Kotona nodded, happily. She removed her simple top, revealing her milky breasts. His heart nearly stopped, and his penis began to stiffen, as he saw those perfect tigress orbs emerge again. “Kua,” she said, pointing at her chest.

His eyes widened. “I…I don’t know…” he said. His vows…

She blinked at him a moment. “Kua?” Kotona asked, her ears up and her face tilted.

“I am a monk,” he said, pointing at himself. “Monk. It means that I can’t-”

Kotona shook her head. “Amo ‘monnnk’, Ket-sal-tik,” she said, sounding out the words.

“I…I can’t,” he said. “I am not allowed. I took a vow..,” he searched, recalling the word he guessed was no. “Amo. Amo Kua.”

She stared at him a moment, and he feared she was sizing him up to force feed. She had shown earlier that she could easily force him to do whatever she wanted. A part of him braced for her to do it, and another part of him eagerly hoped that she would.

He had always feared that a strong mamono would see through him, see into his soul, and see the timid spirit there. He feared a strong mamono would come, pin him, ravish him, and see how much she could control him. This Jinko warrior could see through him. It was the only explanation for her little grin, the hungry look in her eyes…

But she didn’t claim that which could easily be hers to take. She simply smiled and stood. She took up the bow and arrows from the wall, and moved to the hut’s entrance, still topless. Her tail flicked impishly.

“Tikkuas kintepan,” she said. She squeezed her nipple, letting milk drip out, then left him there. She bounded on the grass before disappearing into the jungle.

Frances sat in the hut, unsure of what he should do. He thought of escape, but despite his cured state and good sleep, he was still very tired, and his joints ached. He decided to rest a while. He lay upon the furs, just breathing and enjoying the sounds of birds and passing rain. He wished he had his book and quill, for he wanted to take down some observations on the dwelling and describe the experiences with the milk and the Shadow Things. That was important.

But there was also discussing the Jinko woman herself, Kotona. The Tigress was primitive, but it appeared that everything in her hut was effective and of good quality. It all also looked to have been made by her own hand, and some of the pots showed a degree of sophisticated artistry, though fixated upon weapons and crude images of male…anatomy.

He had hoped that resting would build up his strength to at the very least retrace his steps to his camp. He wanted to recover his book, and perhaps write some more in it. And yet, to his horror he began to feel the sickness return. It started first in his stomach, then in his eyes, and finally at his brow. Then the pains intensified. The chills returned with them, and it was all he could do not to whimper.

When Kotona returned, he was in agony. She had a large, striped deer slung over her shoulder, and though she grinned when she entered her smile faded to alarm. She dropped the deer to the ground with a loud thud, and set her bow and quiver down gently. Then she knelt down near where he huddled, stroked his hair with her paw and put her left breast into his mouth.

“Kua!” She commanded.

Frances suckled ravenously and without shame, as the powerful Jinko began to chuff again. The milk brought with it the same joy, the same wonderful feeling. He moaned in half delirium from relief, and put his hand to her breast. Kotona really, really liked that, and gripped him in her arms, holding his head to her breast so that he could not move. Soon he felt the sickness go away.

“How long,” he said in between greedy gulps. “How long will I need to drink?”

It took a few minutes of pointing and hand gestures, but finally he got across his question (or thought he did). She idly scraped her finger into the dirt. “Semiak,” she said, before clutching his head to her breast tighter.

Frances managed to turn his face enough to see her mark in the dirt, with the Jinko warrior’s nipple still between his lips. On the ground was a figure eight shape. He blinked.

“…forever?” He asked.

“Amo ‘forrrvar…'” she said with an eyeroll. “Semmmm-E-ack.”

He sighed. “…semiak…” he whispered, looking at the full breasts which glistened before him. Licking and sucking on a gorgeous tigress-maiden’s breasts forever was not that much of a hardship, but he feared that he was violating his vows. Fortunately, he told himself, she seemed contented to merely feed him, and it seemed necessary to keep his sickness at bay.

He thought of suggesting milking into a pot, but he…didn’t. She wouldn’t understand, he told himself, and besides it would be rude, obviously.

He leaned down, shutting his eyes, and kissing her nipples reverently. He heard her chuff as he did so, and she gripped his face and kissed him on the lips, not minding that her milk was still there. Her tongue worked its way into his mouth, taking it over and making it hers. It was his first kiss, and he felt a discharge from his hardened cock.

Kotona stopped, wide-eyed. Somehow -perhaps her powerful nose- she could tell that he had let out a small spurt. She smiled, and pulled him into her arms. He thought she might disrobe him there, rape him, and take his virginity and violate his vows, but she merely chuffed as she held him. Cooing and running her paws along his body.

Eventually she moved off, and cleaned the deer carcass and butchered it. Much of it she salted and stored, but some she cooked and ate. It smelled aromatic, but she ate it all greedily, then as his own stomach began to rumble, she forced his mouth to her breast. He could taste the cooked meat of the deer in her milk, along with her now-familiar taste. He was growing to love it, and not care about other food at all. Drinking the Jinko milk right from her beautiful, full breast was a potion.

After they ate, the sun had set, and he curled up on his cloak on the opposite side of the hut. This amused her, as she had patted the furs for him to lay as though a little spoon, but he could not violate his vows. At least, not officially.

As near as Frances could tell, Kotona lived alone, but then he knew that Jinko tended to favor being spread out. He also knew by seeing smoke rising from the trees at night that others were closer than he might think, and on occasion when Kotona disappeared, he suspected it was to visit with other Jinkos like herself.

After one such visit, she came home hefting massive stone blocks on her back. The weight load was tremendous, and yet she had carried them with almost no effort. He could not help but watch her straining muscles, seeing the power in her feminine form, and feeling himself become aroused at the thought of her turning that strength upon him. She sniffed the air, caught the scent of his arousal, and with a big grin which snowed her fangs, she flexed her powerful body as his heart raced.

She set the stones down by the entrance to the hut, then looked at him impishly. Her tail swished. She pointed at them.

“Neltilia iuan tepantlakok,” she said, pointing at him, then at the blocks, and finally making a carrying motion with them.

He took her meaning, and he lifted one, or tried to. It was heavy, and he was forced to put it down swiftly. Despite his failure, this seemed to please Kotona, and she rubbed his back affectionately.

Then they went inside, and he fed, and the only hardship was his fear that she would violate him when she noticed his painful erection. She left shortly afterward, to go on a patrol of her territory, he assumed.

When she returned, she brought him all of the items that he had left behind at his campsite. Of these, the quill and book were the most important, and Frances began to write down his observations about his surroundings again. The act of writing interested Kotona, who found herself staring over his shoulder and squinting at the black ink marks, her tail still with the tip curved as if in question.

Days passed. Kotona would disappear to hunt, and he would chronicle the jungle. His strength improved, although strength was a relative term. Kotona was much stronger and quicker than he was. She was unfailingly gentle with him at all times, especially for her strength, but as his body became less frail, she started to become more forceful with him.

Breastfeeding became more involved, also, becoming a ritual. It started slowly, with her asking for a kiss on each nipple before he could feed. Then the kisses began to be on her chest, and on her neck. Soon, she would point to a spot on her body – on her bicep or her nice, flat stomach- and he would kiss, and then she would give him leave to suckle her bosom.

Frances might have thought the milk would soften him, fatten him, but the opposite was happening. His muscle had increased, his body toned. The milk was making him healthier. He didn’t eat or drink much else now, and he found that he enjoyed living on Kotona’s milk almost as much as she enjoyed him drinking it. He wasn’t sure if he was violating his vows by that, but he reasoned that as he had to do it to survive, it probably was alright.

And the hideous nightmares of Shadow Things were diminished. They were always present in the dreams – perhaps because the disease was always present within him – but they were weak, and he never feared them. What they were, he could not say, but it seemed as if there were heathen ghosts in these forests, manifesting through a disease.

At night he would sleep on the far side of the hut, on some blankets, praying to God for strength. When he would wake after a blissful, nightmare-free sleep, he would be on her side of the hut, wrapped in her arms. Like a true predator she would take him, every night lifting him without waking him and bringing him to her side. And when he awoke, always her paw was over his cock, squeezing it.

“Inin ka noaxka,” she would whisper every morning as her paw controlled his manhood. He would later learn that she was saying, ‘this is mine.’ This would make him harden, and she would giggle triumphantly.

And yet, Kotona never went beyond this ominous whisper and groping. He had feared (and even in parts hoped) that she would force herself on him, but she never did. She only strove to remind him that she could, every single moment that he was awake (and quite a few times that he wasn’t).

Frances guessed that she was not yet in her season for Heat, and this alone had saved him from being fully ravaged. Jinkos in Heat were said to be insatiable, especially to any man who had been aroused by them. He was aware that she had aroused him many times, no doubt by her design, and clearly her plan was to take him during her mating season. A season which would never end, by some accounts. This posed a problem, but he resolved that as he had no escape and limited prospects of surviving, he must simply try to weather it as best he could.

By Frances’ calculation he had been there for about two weeks. Kotona in fact had a very good sense of time, and confirmed this when he reconciled his calendar with hers. She began to teach him more and more words, which he catalogued in his writings. Some days, they would walk about the jungle and she would point and name the things in it.

Learning her language came with time. He was always bright and had a gift for it. Curiously, she rejected any attempts to learn or talk in his language, insisting on speaking in hers.

“Why do you not want to learn my language?” Frances asked her, finally, in her tongue.

“Because this is Our Land,” she said, fiercely, in her clear and beautiful voice. “We speak the language of The Sun People here.”

“So there are more of you?” He asked.

“There are numberless dens, all throughout the jungle. I am of the Warrior caste. I own lands in the jungle, lands nearest the greatest of seas. You can record that on your woodpress tablet,” she said, pointing at his book.

“We call them ‘pages’ and a ‘book’,” Frances replied.

She looked at it with a puffed out chest. “Fair enough. A ‘boook’,” she said, despising the word. And yet, she looked on with interest at the ink markings on the page.

“Would you like to learn how to read and write?” Frances asked.

She stared at him with wide eyes, shocked. “Only priestesses can read and write,” she said, licking her lips.

“Why is that?” Frances asked.

“Because only Priestesses know, and only priestesses train their daughters,” she said.

“What about men?” Frances asked.

Kotona frowned. “I suppose a priestess would train her son as well, though most men stay inside their huts. When they turn of age and begin to show the Curse, they are given to a young warrior or priestess to care for. Mostly from then on they will be fathers and hunters, generally staying near their wives for succor,” she said.

“The Curse…” Frances said. “The sickness that I have?”

She nodded, sadly. “It is called Okichmikistli,” she said. “Man Death. It comes from the jungle, from the wicked spirits here. They hate men, and want to kill them.”

“But why?”

“Why? Because light has shadow, and joy has sorrow. As the Sun God reigns above, the Spirits lurk in the rivers. When boys become men, the fevers come, and the pains. And visions of the dreadful spirits. They must take on The Diet to survive, drink from the breast of a mamono.”

“It is in the rivers?” Frances asked. “From drinking the water?

Kotona shrugged. “Some Priestesses believe it comes from the waters of the river, and the rains, and the mists of the jungle which we breathe, but who can say? You are in the jungle now,” she said. “You will always need The Diet.’

“Semiak,” he said.

“Semiak,” she replied.

He looked at her full, swollen breasts, and his mouth watered. “…Semiak…” he repeated.

She smiled, and undid her top. “Come here, Ketsaltik,” she said gently. “Fill your belly…Kua…”

He went to her breast, and suckled. Her milk filled him and filled his belly, and he felt the warmth of her presence within. To drink a Jinko’s milk was to feel her strength, her confidence, within you. It was to be reminded of her power and of her greatness.

Kotona began to learn his words, and what they meant, and how to write in his language – though insisting that it was only for reading and writing.

“I shall help you write of our lands,” Kotona said. “For in this you shall learn of them.”

She started by taking him to the beach where he had first washed ashore. Kotona would not venture too far down the beach, for when they arrived, they saw it was quite well occupied. Creatures which were half aquatic beast and half beautiful woman lounged upon the sands or frolicked in the waves. Men were among them, men who were not at liberty. Men who were naked. He recognized the tentacles and fins as what he has seen the night he was attacked.

“Those are the monsters which wrecked the ship,” Frances said.

“Yes. These are the Sea Maidens,” Kotona said, pointing at the tentacled women on the beach. They lounged with their men tightly wrapped in their embrace, although the men seemed contented. “Their young women are out seeking men at this time. Typically they prefer men born beneath the waves, but a boat of foreign men would look like a tasty snack to them. They will leave and go deep beneath the waves soon, then the waters will be safe.”

“Have you contact with them?” Frances asked.

“Some,” Kotona said. “We have exchanged boys in the past. But it is hard, because they are terrible.”

“Terrible?” Frances asked.

“Yes. Terrible,” Kotona said with wide eyes. “They are jealous and greedy, taking any man they can.”

“Not at all like Jinkos?” Frances asked with a smile.

She smirked, and her tail swished impishly. “Not at all,” she said, tilting up her nose. “Trespassers must be punished.”

“Am I being punished?” He asked.

“You are being educated,” she said. “When I am through, you will be a proper man of the Sun, a man of God.”

“I already am a man of God,” Frances said. He cleared his throat. “Kotona…”

“If this is about your ‘monnnk’ thing, I am uninterested,” Kotona said. “That is for over the ocean. You are in Our Land now. Tomorrow I shall take you to see the Simbani people, the other people of note.”

They returned back to her hut, and he fed again as she ate her meats. Then they slept (apart at first, then together as she wished it).

The next day she took him to a stream where she kept an Akalli, a type of canoe. They got in it, and took it up the river, down the gently flowing waters. Algae lingered in pools along the edges, and crocodile-women poked their heads just out of the water, watching him and Kotona, but keeping their distance.

“I do not like the way they are eying me,” Frances said.

“I do not like it, either,” Kotona said, staring at them with a gaze that was frightening in its intensity. The crocodile girls just grinned at her. “But they will stay away, because your mate is with you.”

“My mate?” Frances asked.

“Yes. You have shared my milk,” the Tigress replied, gently dipping her oar into the flowing waters. “When the Season comes, we shall wed.”

Frances took a deep breath. “I have told you, I cannot wed,” he said.

She snorted – and not with happiness. “I told you no longer to mention this dumb vow,” Kotona said. “It distresses me.”

“It can distress you, but I have taken a vow of ‘celibacy’…” Frances said. He was forced to render the word in his language, as Kotona’s had no word for it, and she winced to hear it spoken.

“If you say sell-e-bah-see one more time, I am tossing you out of the canoe,” Kotona said.

“Well that wouldn’t change anything,” Frances said, peering into the water to see if any of those ravenous fish she spoke of were there. “I have sworn a vow to my God…”

“Crazy,” Kotona said with a paw wave. “No way God wants fewer Jinkos and sons for Jinkos.”

“It isn’t about that,” Frances said. “It’s about devotion, and purity-”

“You are pure. You are devoted. God does not want a pure, devoted man to die without making Jinkos,” she said, pointing up at the blinding sun above them.

“I do not worship the sun,” Frances said.

“There is only one God, the Sun,” Kotona said. “All worshippers worship Him. He is the source of Day, creator of the World. The Sun wants Jinkos to worship Him. Your vow was just, until you met a Jinko. Now God wants you to marry.”

“God is awfully fond of Jinkos,” Frances replied.

Kotona nodded. “He loves us, and gives us warmth and light. You will no longer speak of this sell-e-bah-see nonsense,” she said. “Now let us enjoy the canoe.”

She took him down the river, through a section of rapids which he quite enjoyed the traversal of, and finally to a flat land, a savannah. The grasslands had tall wooden houses inside wooden stockades. Within, Frances could see men and cow-women, holstaurs and minotaurs.

“These are the Simbani,” Kotona said. “They are a good people, who keep to the savannah. They worship the Earth, which is foolish.”

“Really, why is that?” Frances asked.

“Well because God is obviously right there!” Kotona exclaimed, pointing skyward at the blazing sun in the sky. “We have tried to explain it to them, but they laugh and say that it is funny ideas from the Jungle to worship the Sun. They say the earth is bigger, but that is dumb. The sun is big, just far away.”

“Will we see any of your countrymen in our tour?” Frances asked. “Perhaps a Jinko city?”

Kotona recoiled. “That is improper. You are still an outsider,” she said.

“Outsiders are not allowed?” Frances asked.

“Of course not!” Kotona said as if the question were ridiculous. “Passage to the Stone City is forbidden, and it would be unspeakably improper for a single man to appear in the Jungle of the Sun at any rate.”

Frances nodded. This was probably a custom which began with protections against the Shadow Things. An unattended man was likely to begin to suffer the disease.

“That is a shame. I would like to see the Stone City,” he said. “For my writings.”

Kotona was quiet. She rubbed her chin “Well…perhaps there is a way…” she began. “There is a way you can see all of Our Land. Perhaps tomorrow, I will take you. ”

They watched the villagers for a while, and Frances made notes about their comings and goings. He wanted to go and speak to them, but Kotona was against it. She was studiously avoiding contact with other mamono while she was with him, and he guessed that it was because he was still not officially her mate. Jinkos seemed VERY possessive, and fiercely territorial. Instead he was forced to rely upon her insights about them.

They made the canoe trip back upstream, stepping out and carrying the canoe beyond the rapids. As they walked, they spoke of the Jungle and the peoples, and of Kotona’s family and past.

“Mother and Father live close by, with Sisters. You shall meet them all after the Season,” Kotona said happily. “I haven been on my own for two years, in my nineteenth year of life.”

Frances laughed. “I am older than you,” he said. “I am twenty-five.”

“Well, I shall respect my elder,” Kotona said with a grin. “And give him many cuddles.”

Kotona was, in Frances’ estimation, delightful. She was chauvinistic on many things – the role of men, the place of foreigners, religion – but she was also thoughtful, and she would often ask questions about life over the seas with obvious curiosity.

The concept of churches fascinated her, and his descriptions of his life on a farm, particularly the technology used. Despite her distrust of foreign things, she was fair in her assessment. She commented that the Latin characters that he used were more efficient than the hieroglyphs her people used for writing.

She was also very interested in his brothers and sisters and his parents. She did not like to talk about the monastery, and viewed it as a type of prison or punishment. Frances had never really done so, but in light of his new condition, he was beginning to regret it.

The more they spoke, the more they laughed, and the closer he felt himself growing to her. That he was massaging and worshipping her breasts daily only made them grow closer. Every time he wondered if, after he finished licking and drinking her milk, she would simply mount him. And that was a problem.

Kotona’s beauty and kindness had charmed him, but he had sworn a vow of celibacy to the Lord. Now he regretted it immensely, but he had done it out of love for his family. He had been an extra mouth among a large and poor brood of siblings, with no prospects for work. He went to cloister to spare his family the burden.

At any rate, it was done, and an oath was an oath. He could say that technically, as he had only kissed her body and suckled on her breasts, that he had not violated his vow. He did say that, in his feverish prayers to the Lord. But he knew the longer he stayed, the more likely would come the time when that defense would not apply.

And to be honest, he was unsure if he needed a defense. Would God truly deny him this? He was, after all, stranded in this jungle and dependent on her milk. Perhaps that was a sign.

That night they slept, and he dreamed of beautiful fields and calm flowing water, and a dancing Tigress-woman who laughed and chased him playfully. Just out of sight, he saw the lines of dark, the Shadow Things, as though distant beings in the horizon. He was prepared to ignore them, as he always did, when he heard it.

“…frances…” the words came as a whisper on the wind, and he knew their source, recognized the speech.

Frances clenched his teeth. He disliked hearing them talk, and a deep conviction arose within him that it was an affront to Creation to have them speak. He reached out his hand and plucked them from the horizon in that way one can in dreams, gathering them like a bundle of sticks in his hand.

“I will crush you!” He shouted.

“…wait…” one said, and it seemed afraid.

“…WAIT…” shouted the second.

“…do not do this…” rasped the third.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Frances said. “You bastards tried to kill me! You are horrible!”

“…remember your vows…”

“…your vows!”

“…if you breed the Tigress…”

“…it means your damnation!”

“My Damnation?” He asked, unable to contain his emotions at such a fearful word. “It is obvious what you want: you want me to stop drinking her milk, so you can kill me!”

“…no…” the first began.


He squeezed with clenched teeth, and the Shadow Things meshed together like mud, falling through his fingers lifeless.

He woke soon after, in his Jinko warrior’s gentle embrace. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he was angry, trembling in fury. Not only at the idea that these horrid shadows would try to talk to him, but also that he feared they had a point.

As Frances and Kotona went through their morning routine, Kotona announced that she would be taking them to the mountain. She packed her bow, and her spear and shield, and they set out into the early morning, when the jungle’s heat and wetness was least oppressive. Kotona caught herself some monkeys for a morning meal, then undid her top, and sat on a stump with her breasts exposed. She had Frances kneel before her, and he suckled on her breasts, filling his belly with her sweet and curing breast milk.

Kneeling on the ground before her made him feel submissive, and he found that he liked that. The way she stared down at him as he suckled, with a grin and such lust in her eyes, made him realized she liked to see him as submissive, too. This only heightened his enjoyment, and he realized the paw behind his head was keeping him there, keeping him kneeling. Where they both knew he belonged.

When finally she let him up, she tugged his face to hers and kissed him on the lips.

“I love tasting my own milk on your breath,” Kotona whispered, chuffing. “It reminds me how much of it is inside you. How much of me is inside you.”

Frances smiled, but then he thought of his vows, and the whispers of those damned Shadow Things. He continued on wordlessly, clutching at his robes. But what could he do? Run away? Die?

They reached the base of the mountain by midmorning, stopping to shield themselves from the typical rainstorms of that hour. While sheltered, Frances saw the large neck of one of the great lizards poke out amongst the foliage. It was in the distance, and Frances could only guess at its size.

“I have seen these things before, when I first arrived,” He said, pointing at the tall-necked creature. “What is that?”

“Those are kuetspallin,” Kotona said as another distant roar sounded. “Big lizards, the Old Men. They are very, very ancient. We have found bones of theirs deep in the earth.”

“They are so large and powerful,” he said, wary of the great behemoth. “Yet they seem docile.”

“So large they need not worry. They ignore us, for the most part,” Kotona said. “There were smaller ones which did not, we called tlankoch. They stood on two legs, and struck with claw and fang. They wanted to make meals of us. We drove them from Our Land, and they live in the Wild Places to the far north.”

“So I guess I can’t see one?” He asked.

Kotona shrugged. “Some occasionally wander south, but never out this far,” she said. He felt her claw go behind his back. “Come, Ketsaltik. Let us ascend the mountain. From there you shall be able to see the Stone City.”

They climbed the mountain. Frances had been fit before, after months of traveling with sailors and soldiers, but the Tigress milk had made him fitter and stronger still, and he found scaling the mountain to be easier than he had guessed it would be.

They stopped at the summit, where the air was cold and blustering. He found the cool winds refreshing after spending weeks in the hot wet air of the jungle below.

Looking out over the vistas, he saw the jungle stretch out before him, the thick trees blanketed in mists and vapor. Beyond the thick green canopy was the ocean, large and sparkling blue with a blinding gleam from the sun on the shimmering surface.

The sun itself shone down brightly on them, its intensity a nice warmth on the cold mountain. Kotona stood upon the summit’s edge, and pointed away from the ocean and at the deep jungle, towards gray objects along on the horizon.

“There is Stone City,” she said, proudly. “The greatest city in the world.”

Though distant, Frances could make out the step pyramids of gray stone, with thick green vines running up their steps. The whole city seemed to be covered in vines and trees, as if being pulled down into the growth.

“The city looks so overgrown,” Frances said. “You built it?”

Kotona’s tail flicked. “Men built it,” she said. “The First Husbands, when this became Our Land.”

“So the Jinko are not from these jungles?”

“This is Our Land,” she repeated, forcefully. “The Great Mothers followed the Sun on the shining bridge to find new mates, and it led them here from the Bad Jungle. They crushed the Death Priests of Our Land, the horrible humans who worshipped darkness. They were slain, but they used their evil magic to put a curse on the jungle waters.”

“The Shadow Things…” Frances said.

“Yes, but our magic is greater,” she said. Kotona pointed at the tallest of the step pyramids. “There is the Temple of the Sun, where sacrifices are offered to keep the Sun happy.”

Frances’ eyes widened. “S-sacrifices? Do you mean you kill people?”

“What?!” Kotona asked in horror. “Offer people to the Sun?! But He wants MORE people! Who would do that?!”

“Never mind,” Frances said, seeking to calm her down, and not tell her of the barbarism of the world. “It isn’t important. What is sacrificed, then? Animals?”

Kotona’s face softened, and she smiled. “At high noon, a Priestess and her Mate ascend the steps. She lashes him to the altar and takes him, offering up womb and seed to the Sun God,” she said. “A child born and blessed from such a union is said to be a Gift from the Sun. They are said to be always happy, always warm, and to have magic powers.”

“Magic powers?” Frances asked with a raised eyebrow.

“They can heal people who are sick, and speak to animals, and eat almost anything!” Kotona said with wide eyes.

“Wait, what was that last one?” Frances asked. “They can eat…almost anything?”

“Just about! They can eat demons, or rock beasts, or ghosts!” She exclaimed.

Frances laughed.

Kotona’s ears went flat. “What’s so funny?” She asked.

“Well, I’m sorry Kotona, but…eating demons and ghosts?”

“And rock beasts!” Kotona said with folded arms.

“Why would anyone want to eat those things?” Frances asked.

Kotona stared at him with disbelief. “What else would you do with a ghost, blow your nose on it?” She asked.


“Exactly!” She said, stabbing the air with her claw.

Frances laughed harder, and as she watched him Kotona began to laugh as well.

“Well, fine then; have your dumb jokes, silly Ketsaltik!” She exclaimed, giving him a gentle tap on the shoulder with a closed fist. It nearly spun him, but caused no discomfort.

“What does Ketsaltik mean?” Frances asked, blinking. “You’ve told me all your words save that one. What is it?”

“It means…” She frowned. “I do not know what your word is in the scribble tongue. It means pretty, but as a boy is pretty, in a masculine way.”

Frances smirked. “Oh. We say that is ‘handsome’,” He said. He found his knees weakening as he realized what she had been calling him.

“Yes. You are ‘Haandsome’. That is what your name is. Ketsaltik,” Kotona said.

His face felt hot, and Kotona grinned.

“Ohhhh Ketsaltik is blushing! Ketsaltik! Ketsaltik!” She called out towards him, twirling about him. Despite her size and strength, she moved with grace, smoothly in a natural dance, as one would guess a large catgirl could do.

Watching her grin, and her eyes sparkle, and the movement of her feminine form, he couldn’t help but think about how close to perfection she was. He had seen many women in his life, even trained ballerinas, and none of them compared to her.

She stopped twirling. She smiled playfully and pointed over his shoulder. “I do love to come up here, and see the waters,” she said.

Looking towards the ocean, he was impressed by how much of it he could see from this vantage. The sparkling waters of the ocean made him think of home, and of the monastery. He mused that he would probably see neither ever again. It was as he thought of home that he saw the object on the water. Though like a smudge or a dot in the painting like landscape, he knew from up here what it was.

“It is one of those boats,” Kotona said with a frown. “Like the one that brought you.”

“Yes,” Frances replied “A Galleon.”

Kotona cradled her spear. “With soldiers?” She asked with a growl. “Invaders?”

“I doubt it,” Frances said. “My expedition’s failure has been too costly. They are likely looking to see if there is any trace of the ship that was lost,” he took a deep breath. “Any survivors…”

“Well, a shame they have all been claimed,” she said. “And the Sea Maidens are long gone, as are you.”

He nodded, but still he stared at the black spot on the ocean, realizing to his horror that it was there, that his people had come looking. The ship was an unwelcome fixture, a serpent in the garden. It rested there, on the ocean, a symbol of his vows. Of Civilization. What had been a Fate to accept had suddenly become a Choice that he didn’t want to make. Conceivably, he could leave.

They stayed on the mountain a little longer, and Kotona spoke of the local landmarks and other beasts and trees, but he was withdrawn. They did not speak of it again, but the boat upon the ocean was on his mind.

The journey home was quiet. Kotona was quiet, and for his part, Frances could only look at her and wonder what he should do. The descent down the mountain was hard, but not only because of the impact on his legs. He stared down at the loose stones and mud while they walked. When they hit the jungle floor he remained aloof.

“You want to go back, don’t you?” Kotona asked, finally, in a tiny voice.

He turned to face her, and saw that she was staring at him with sad eyes. Suddenly he felt a wholly different guilt.

“I don’t think I really can…” Frances replied.

“The milk is only necessary while you are in the jungle,” Kotona said.

“That isn’t what I meant,” he said. “A Tigress would never let her mate leave.”

The Jinko took in a deep breath. “Yes…” she said, her voice wavering. “But he could…escape. It has been known to happen.”

Her words were full of dread, and it chilled his heart, but what was worse was that he understood her meaning. It had taken away the last barrier to the choice he had to make.

It was dark when they went back to her hut, and his stomach still full, Frances felt no need to feed. Instead he stretched out to rest at his spot near the campfire. He had intended to lay for only a moment, but the exertion of the hike had tired him, and he found himself fall into a deep sleep.

The dreamscape was pleasant enough, though there was sadness in it. He was on a beach, and the Galleon was there, off the shore. Kotona was no where to be seen. He saw the Shadow Things, and they did not seem far away on the horizon, but near. And yet, the black lines did not look ominous or threatening. They seemed small, even smaller than before, and weak. They were tiny, and he could still crush them.

“…frances…” they said together.

“I will enjoy crushing you again, you bastards,” Frances growled.

“…no…” one said.

“hear us…” another of them rasped.

“I do not wish to speak to you,” Frances replied. He raised his foot to step on them.

“…wait…” one whispered.

“…you regretted not hearing us out…” the second said.

“…you can leave tonight…” one rasped.

“…our goal is the same as yours…”

“We do NOT have the same goals!” Frances shouted.

“…as you will…”

“…we do not…”

“…you value your vow, still?”

Frances sighed. “Yes,” he said, sadly.

“…then leave. Head for the shore. One of your boats is there, searching for survivors…”

Frances said nothing.

“…you already know this…”

“…we cannot harm you on the ocean, only in the jungle…”

“…you will preserve your vows…”

“But Kotona?” He asked.

“…a pleasure of the flesh…”

“…a temptation…”

“…a path to Damnation…”

“…go to the beach…”

“…signal the ship…”

“…you will escape…”

“…this is your last chance…”

He heard them all whisper the last in unison. He stared at the Galleon in the sea, and in the dream, he realized what he must do.

Frances woke, and was surprised that he was not wrapped in his Jinko’s arms. It was dark now, nighttime. She was gone, out in the night, and peeking outside he saw her silhouette staring up at the stars on the north hill. Quietly he rose, and made his way through the doorway. She would hear him, he was certain of it, but he had to try.

And yet, when he ventured forth he saw her muscles tense a moment, but she made no move. Instead she began her walk northward, to do her nightly rounds to the north. Her shoulders were slumped in a way he had not before seen. It filled him with sadness to behold it, and he understood. She loved him, truly.

Wordlessly, he made for the shoreline.

There, as the Shadow Things had said and he had earlier seen, was the Galleon on the ocean, a black smear against the starry horizon. It rested in the waters off the shore, its sails bundled. He could build a fire here, and the Sea Maidens would not molest him, for they had retreated into the deep. He would be able to return to his Order.

He gathered up driftwood on the shore – the smashed ship made that easy- and began to build a fire on the beach. He looked over his shoulder, back at the direction of his Jinko warrior’s hut. He had to move swiftly, for she would return soon, and find him missing. He did not want to be on the beach then.

The driftwood had been dried in the sun, and caught fire easily, and soon the beach was roaring with a bright flame. Even from his distance he could hear the watch on the galleon calling out the sight. He gave the ship a hard look.

Frances knew he could board that boat and return home, having never foresworn his vows. He would return with a full accounting of these jungle lands and the people in them. The book would be a sensation, and Kings, Lords, and Bishops would want for copies. He would attain as much fame as a scribe could reasonably hope to get.

And this idea was poison to him.

He had needed to stand here, to give it the full weight of contemplation, before he made his decision, but there was only one decision that his heart would allow. He took his book, his writings about this curious place, and put it down a safe distance from the bonfire, yet where men would see it in the light of the flame. With his quill and ink, he opened it and added one final note:

“My Dear Brothers, I have chronicled my findings on this land and its peoples. I had hoped to return with a story of the jungles, but instead I have become a part of them, and they of me. I am leaving the order and rescinding my vows. I have met…someone. Someone special, a Jinko of the Sun People, and I believe that God has brought me here to meet her. I was spared from the coils of the Sea Maidens that a Jungle Maiden might claim me. And she has; for I am well and truly hers. Farewell, my friends, I wish you Love and Peace from our Lord, Amen. With Deep Affection…”

He smiled to himself as he wrote the last line, and his name. He closed the book reverently, then pulled shut its clasp. He saw a lifeboat begin to lower from the Galleon, and he heard it splash in the water as men called out for oars. Quickly he retreated to the treeline. They would find his book, and take his meaning.

He made his way back to Kotona’s hut. In truth, he had made up his mind before he had left, but he felt he owed it to himself to take his full measure on the beach. He had been afraid of standing there, but it had been no contest. He was certain that God had delivered him to Kotona, that this was His plan. He could not leave the powerful, teasing, and kind Jinko who gave him succor. He knew what staying meant, and he smiled, his heart light.

When he returned to the hut, he found that she was no longer on her patrol, but was curled up on her furs in the dark. He heard a sob when he entered through the doorway, a mournful sound. It nearly broke his heart to hear it. She had let him go, let him depart, thinking he would not return. For some reason he had not considered that – she had no idea that if he left, he might return. He clutched at his chest, for the pain of it hurt him so.

“Oh…” he heard her say sadly, with a sniffle as she stared at the wall. “…Frances…”

“That is not my name,” he said, his voice shaking.

Kotona swiftly turned to face the voice in the doorway. Her eyes were shimmering and wet, even in the dark. Her mouth was wide, and her ears raised.

“…Ketsaltik?” She asked in a small voice. “You came back?”

“I never left,” Ketsaltik said. “I went to the beach to deliver my writings on this land, but my heart remained here, with you.”

Kotona swooned, and for once he moved quicker than she did. He raced to her, laying down and wrapping his arms around her. She let out a loud cry and clutched him tightly.

“You came back!” She cried out. “Oh, I thought I’d lost you…”

“No,” Ketsaltik replied. “I am yours.”

She sniffled, and wiped her eyes with her paw. Her grin returned, bright in the dark.

“Yes,” she said. “You are. You are mine now, Ketsaltik. Semiak…”

“Semiak…” he responded.

They kissed then, a deep kiss, in which Jinko tongue entered and conquered his mouth and dominated his tongue, pushing and bullying it against his teeth. She clutched him so tightly that he could barely even fidget or wriggle.

“Mine,” she announced possessively. “I shall never, ever let you go again.”

Ketsaltik smiled, and drifted into sleep.

When he awoke, it was for once without arms wrapped around him or a paw secured over his groin. He jumped up with a start, and saw the powerful Tigress by the doorway to the hut. The morning sun was shining through upon her form, the beams falling on her bare glistening chest. She was in sparkling gold and jewels, and she bore an ornate headdress above her sable hair. He was unaware of where she had kept these things, but they made her seem regal and powerful.

The other thing of note was the door, which was now covered by six of the large stone blocks. Two more were by Kotona’s feet, and he saw where they would go. A dead deer was in the corner, not stripped or cleaned, just dead in a heap. Its throat had been cut, and a line of red had colored its white breast.

“K-Kotona?” Ketsaltik asked. “What are you wearing?”

She smiled widely, and he saw her fangs in the sunlight. “You are awake!” She said. “That is good. I have been waiting since before sunrise, my sleepy man! Today is the big day.”

“Big day?” He asked.

Kotona nodded vigorously, her ears flopping and her eyes sparkling. “Yes! The Season is beginning. With the full moon tonight, my Heat will begin. I am wearing my wedding jewelry.”

Ketsaltik gasped. The Heat…he looked at the nearly walled off door. He was trapped. He knew from before that he could barely move one of these blocks. The stack of them would be impossible. He would have better luck breaking through one of the walls.

“We are to stay inside?” He asked. “For how long?”

She grinned. “I will climb out the roof to get food,” she said. “You will stay inside for the season. You will not want to move too much after we begin, I think.”

“When do we begin?” He asked, aware his voice was shaking.

“You are afraid…” she said, and he saw her grin widen. “We shall begin now, I think. Come over to me, my Man.”

Ketsaltik complied, walking over to her, knowing that if he did not, she would go and get him anyways.

She stood before him in the fullness of her size, towering over him, staring down at him with her fanged grin. He felt small, yet he could not help but marvel at her sculptured form, or contemplate the feeling of her skin against his own. With her claws out, she ran them through his robe smoothly and slowly. His clothes fell as though ribbons, leaving him in his simple breeches. She took every fragment of cloth and tossed it out beyond the stones blocking the door.

“Now…” she said, panting, her blue eyes hungry. “Remove that awful insult to everything decent that you wear.”

He slowly undid his breeches, and she licked her lips as she watched him undress. He had never been naked before her, and the thought of being naked now, with her dressed in all her splendor, made his penis swell. She looked at his penis for the first time with wider a grin than he had ever seen. With a shaking hand he held out his breeches.

Kotona took his undergarment with care, and then, her grin deepening, she ripped it in half, and deposited the pieces outside. She picked up the stone blocks and jammed them in place, shutting out the light from outside of the doorway, and creating a solid, black wall there. Only light from the roof lit the room.

“There,” Kotona said, her voice eager in the sudden dark. “Now we shall have a nice evening.”

Ketsaltik shifted, uneasily. “So…what now?” He asked.

“The first thing I am going to do…” she said, wiggling her body with a flicking tail. “…is pounce.”

Before he could react, he was on the ground, and a bulwark of muscle, breasts and fur had taken him down and now straddled him. He cried out, and reflexively tried to escape, but her paws grabbed his wrists and pinned him.

“Now, the Huntress shall eat her Prey…” she said triumphantly. She gripped him by his legs, and brought her face near to his penis. She breathed on it, making it twitch. She stared, and giggled, with eyes full of wonder.

“I have so, so wanted to see your manhood. I’m going to get myself a nice drink. It has been most hard for me, giving and not taking…”

Kotona staring up at him with big blue eyes, she put her beautiful, big lips against his swollen head. She gave him a kiss which made his cock twitch, and he moaned to her great delight.

“I see you have been looking forward to this too, yes?” The Tigress asked.

Ketsaltik nodded, eyes wide.

“Then I shall suckle on you as you have suckled on me…” Kotona said. She took his penis into her mouth, sucking it in between her warm and wet lips with a loud slurp. She chuffed loudly, blowing hot air onto his chest and belly.

She began to slowly bob her cat-eared head, running her tongue along his shaft. He pushed his hips forward, and her eyes widened as he did so. She began sucking on him loudly, moaning with pure joy. Suddenly she stopped.

“Mmm!” She said. She removed him from her mouth with a popping sound. “You let out a little bit!”

“I did?” Ketsaltik asked.

“Yes! Ohhhh…” Kotona said. She shuddered as though she had taken a strong drink, then stared at his head with pure adoration. “Why it’s just the loveliest…”

“I think that was just pre-ejaculate,” Ketsaltik said.

Kotona’s eyes lit up. “You mean there’s MORE in there?”

She returned his penis into her mouth before he could answer, slurping and sucking with animated noises of happiness, plunging him in and licking at his head.

Ketsaltik could only moan, wail, and cry out as Kotona visited pleasure upon him. Her mouth was a doorway to sensations he thought impossible, and she used it to extents he never dreamed of. She teased when teasing would drive him mad, sucked when his manhood could not bear it, and kissed when his head desired it.

And yet even in giving him oral pleasure she was strict, and in control. He had tried to put his hands to her head, but she had grabbed them and slammed them down with a growl, staring up at him as if he had tried to take her food. Her message was clear – she was sucking on him. He was not pressing himself into her. The power was all hers. He was there to experience pleasure, but to obey. She wanted to suck him, that is why it was happening. He has no choice, and no control. His manhood was her toy.

And play with it she did. She decided to be cruel, and kind, but only at her leisure, as she licked and kissed and slurped. To some extent she was working out nineteen years of curiosity upon his cock, kissing and licking him. She did her job well, bringing him near to climax countless times, but always knowing when to back off to lengthen his pleasure and torture.

Between her kisses and the slurping, she had turned him into her abject slave, barely capable of speech, or any thought except of her blue eyes. She had dominated him, taken him completely, solely with her mouth.

When he finally came, she clutched his face in her paw and forced him to stare into her aggressive eyes. He began to climax, and as he did, he felt her tongue slurping against his head, as he built up to eruption.

“Kotona!” He screamed so loudly that his voice hurt. “KOTONNNAAAA!”

He began to pump his seed into her mouth, and he watched her eyes roll into her head as she let out a muffled moan of absolute rapturous delight.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmm!” She said, as she finally released his cock from its pleasure-torment. She opened her mouth revealing a vast, vast quantity of his spunk on her tongue, before she closed her mouth, swallowed audibly, then opened it to reveal a clean tongue.

“Oh God…” Ketsaltik whispered hoarsely as he watched her smile and clutch at her belly. “Oh…”

Kotona grinned up at him, but then shuddered. The full power of his seed made its way through her body, and she went limp, panting.

“T-that was intense…” she said, staring at him with wide eyes. “My God…you taste like honey and boy, both!”

“Eh…?” Ketsaltik managed to say. He still could not process. He was so spent, and still reeling from the strength of his orgasm.

Kotona laughed triumphantly. “At least you appear more affected than I. A male should be after all; he must be totally dependent upon his Female. I have taken your clothes, and your name, and now your seed,” she said. She laughed. “And apparently, your power of speech.”

“Do I not affect you?” Ketsaltik managed to say.

She put a paw to his face. “More than you can ever know, and I can ever, ever let on. I fear that will change in a few hours. You will see how much desire is in my thoughts of you. Already I feel the deep burning from within, and the sun is not even down,” Kotona said.

His stomach rumbled, and Kotona heard it. Her eyes lit up.

“My Man is hungry…” she said. Quick as anything, she put her breast to Kestaltik’s mouth. “Suckle,” she commanded.

He did, greedily, but as he did so, she gripped his manhood in her paw and began to stroke. He moaned as she tugged at his spent penis, until again he was hard and stiff.

Her warm milk coursed into his stomach, and he licked at her breast, and finally the agony in his pants while he fed was getting the attention that it needed. Her paw was firm and tight, forming a clamp on his manhood. She squeezed and pumped him as he licked and suckled upon her. Her hand expertly brought him to a second intense orgasm, and he feverishly kissed her breasts as he came again.

With a full belly and empty genitals, Ketsaltik found his eyes growing heavy.
He drifted into sleep in his Jinko’s gentle embrace.

When he awoke, it was to fevered breathing. Kotona was awake, and standing near the fireplace. His Jinko Mate was bathed in the moonlight, staring up through the hole in the hut with wide eyes.

She had shed her clothes and was completely naked, her body and muscles covered in droplets of sweat which glistened in the gentle moonbeams

“My God, you are beautiful,” Ketsaltik said. “So…so strong…”

She grinned, though she looked in agony. “You are awake, finally. You like my muscles?” She asked, flexing. Her bicep hardened. While lithe, she was built strong, and her muscles were full. “I must admit, you have always enjoyed when I had you kiss them. I think you should do more than that, now.”

“More?” He asked.

She ran her hands over her body, smoothing droplets into slick water. “The moon has affected me. I am drenched in sweat,” she said. “My muscles are covered in it. I must be bathed.”

“A-at the river?” Ketsaltik asked, knowing it was not so, but wanting to hear her say it.

“No,” she whispered. She hesitated. “With your tongue. All over…”

He moved swiftly to her command. He shut his eyes and planted his lips against the smooth, wet, hard muscles of her arm. He planted another, and another, reveling in the soft, feminine skin wrapped around such firm strength. He found himself planting kisses as her muscles flexed and relaxed, moving up and down her arms and following the contours with his lips.

“Lick my sweat,” she said.

His tongue unfurled on her command, and slathered over every single square inch, licking up the salty droplets from her perfect, tight body. He worked over her arms, her shoulders, her breasts (he lingered here for a long time to her delight, licking and kissing the skin.)

His tongue worked its way down her formed yet soft back. He stopped to smell her sable hair and run his fingers through it, finding it soft yet rough. She liked that, and tilted her head with a smile as his hands passed through her hair.

She kissed him on the lips. Then forced him to his knees with a push on his shoulder.

“Worship my…” Kotona said. “…my rear”

He leaned in, kissing her buttocks and licking each cheek. They were so full and tight they barely even jiggled, so strong and yet so full. He was hard as steel, and he began to work himself out of necessity as he kissed and licked at her gorgeous, full, and toned behind.

She clutched his head with her paw and pressed it into her cheeks, pressing him into her flesh. He found his mouth opening, and his teeth sank gently into the tough yet supple skin there. She squealed with happiness, petting his hair. He kissed her and she began to work herself with her other hand, until the room was strong with her smell, so strong he could taste it.

She turned, her teeth clenched.

“Lay down,” Kotona commanded.

He complied, licking his lips and tasting the sweat of her rear on them. She kneeled down, positioning herself over him so her sex was above his face and she was facing his swollen penis. She lowered herself down on his face, her thighs filling his vision.

“My…my thighs,” she rasped. “Kiss them.”

He greedily kissed, licked, and nibbled on her stout bulwarks, her powerful thighs. As they tensed around his face, he could feel their power. These were by far her strongest muscles, and he knew she could shatter one of those stone blocks with them. His worship was so earnest that she could not help but twirl her paw against her sex as he kissed.

Her chest rose and fell. She opened her legs, and pointed at the bald slit between them, nestled between her powerful thighs.

“Lick,” Kotona growled. “Suckle at my sex, as you have suckled on my breasts. Drink me.”

Ketsaltik nodded, eagerly, his mouth agape and eager to taste her other life fluid. She pressed backward, enveloping his mouth and lips in her sex. He kissed at the moist hole, being rewarded by wetness which tasted strongly of his Jinko.

The taste, and serving her so, made him groan and his penis ache. Her mouth made its way to relieve him, and gave him little kisses on his head as a reward. It was more of a tease, driving him to groan into her vagina in torment.

She laughed gleefully at that even as she let out chuffs of pleasure. As she teased his penis with her kisses, she grinded her sex into his mouth, pushing his nose between her cheeks as she ran her slit along his tongue. He pushed as deeply into her hole as he could, and her gasps and the quivering of her thighs told him of her delight, as did the bucking of her hips on his face.

When she finally came, it was with a roar both feminine and powerful, and she gushed all over his face in powerful squirts. Her raw power made him reach for his manhood to stroke himself, but she pushed his hand away and greedily began to slurp on his penis even as she worked through her own aftershocks of sex.

She was merciless, and kept her vagina over his face, forcing him to moan and cry out into her as she sucked him off yet again. She teased him, enjoying his cries and groans as she wiggled on him. When he finally felt himself growing close, he felt her pussy walls begin to shudder around him, and as he came into her mouth she came onto his yet again, covering him in more of her sex juice.

Exhausted from his draining, and from the exertion of his Jinko Mistress having sex with his face, he fell into another deep sleep. Even as he began his slumber, she still worked and licked him.

When he awoke, he was on his blankets. He felt of dried sweat. For a moment he searched, and could not find her. Then he heard a growl in the dark, and saw two blue eyes staring outward. The eyes of a Predator. The Heat had fully taken her.

She stared at him like he was food, and slowly she circled. Her chuffs had become guttural, and sounded like growls.

“I-I’m a bit frightened, Kotona…” he began.

She either didn’t understand, or didn’t care. With a sudden fierce cry, she pounced. He felt her push him to the ground, and he was being licked on his neck. He felt teeth make gentle contact with his flesh, and felt suction against his skin.

“You are small, like all Boys,” she growled. “Boys are strong, but not as strong as We are. Boy is for fucking. Boy is for worshipping…”

She put her paw to his face. “Boy’s mouth is not for talking,” she said through clenched teeth. “Is for fucking. Boy is instrument. I play, Boy make noise. To hear a deep voice crying out makes Jinko horny. Boy understands?”

“Jinko is going to play Boy,” she growled. “Boy does not play Jinko. Does Boy understand that?”

He nodded, his eyes wide and his penis so stiff he couldn’t help but gyrate his hips and press them against her waiting sex.

She slid down on top of him, and she let out a gasp. Her carefree grin returned for a moment, before being replaced by an aggressive stare and a grunt of frustration. She slid up slowly, bringing soft vaginal walls along his shaft, before slamming downward and forcing him deep into the strong muscles of her sex. It was so tight, so strong and muscular inside her, that he didn’t think his penis could press through. And yet it did, and the sensation along his shaft and head was like no other.

Ketsaltik cried out with a moan, and this made a very wide grin appear on Kotona’s face, but more like a baring of fangs. She rose up and slammed down again, her blue eyes staring into his. He let out another cry, and shut his eyes a moment. He felt her paw come up and shake his face.

“Do not look away,” Kotona said aggressively. “Boy must look into the eyes of Jinko who is fucking him. I am fucking you. Do not look away.”

Ketsaltik stared into her blue eyes, so full of hunger and lust. Her eyes were doing to his soul what her lower half was doing to his throbbing penis. Those blue eyes were drawing him in, surrounding him, pulling his soul from his body and into her, engulfing it in her Love and Desire as his penis was engulfed in the tight, smooth, and wet flesh of her canal.

It was she who came first, with a roaring, powerful cry and ferocious slamming of her sex against his pelvis. When her pussy contracted on his cock, it was with such strength that it pulled the semen straight from his testicles and into her waiting cavity.

He cried out loudly and in shock, as a forceful, intense, sudden orgasm was drawn from him with his seed, and he erupted huge spurts into her quivering womb. Her eyes widened, as his massive load overwhelmed her and her aggression, and the feel of his semen sloshed inside her.

Mighty as Kotona was, the effect of a man’s semen upon a mamono was like the effect of a storm upon an island. She fell on top of him, her aggression gone, her face warm and smiling.

“Mmmmm…” she said happily. She gave him a big hug, then kissed him all over his face with unabashed affection. “Thank you, Ketsaltik…”

He was no less affected, for the draining of his loins had made him just as emotional, and he responded with kisses and earnest hugs of his own.

“That was wonderful,” Ketsaltik said with deep breaths. “I thought…I thought you wouldn’t stop.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m already getting aroused again. I just have other wants right now…” she said. “I must take and hold my man close to me. Now the cuddling is sacred.”

She gripped him, and pulled his tired body over to her. She tenderly began to kiss him all over his body, stroking him, holding him. He melted in her arms, exhaling. She gripped her womb and gasped.

“It’s so, so warm!” She exclaimed. “I thought it felt good in my stomach, but my womb feels like it has a song in it! How can you ever be unhappy, with that stuff inside you?!”

Ketsaltik laughed. “It kinda feels bad to have too much of it, to be honest.”

“Then I shall make sure My Man is always empty,” she said with a giggle.

The night wore on, and as the moon rose higher, Kotona spoke less. She became rougher and rougher, though never hurtful, and the roughness only made Ketsaltik more aroused, and more easy for her to bring to climax.

She fucked him ceaselessly and without end, bringing herself to orgasm on his hard and swollen cock countless times, and always cumming when he came inside her.

When he fell asleep, he was awoken by hot Tigress breath on his face and neck, and kisses. She would lick his body all over, then fuck him at her choosing, asleep or awake. His body was covered in little surface-level bit marks, his skin raked with claw marks that didn’t break the skin. He had been a chew toy all night, his penis and mouth fucked aggressively by his mighty Warrior-Princess, Kotona. The mighty Tigress had him cuddled into her any second she was not having sex with him or eating.

It stretched on into the next day, and the next night. Kotona would prowl to the dead deer carcass, eat it raw and messily, then make her way back over to him with a growl, going from one sustenance to another. She would force him onto his back and mount him. He had tried to resist once, just to see, and with fierce strength and savagery she pinned him, and forced her bloody tongue into his mouth in a kiss of dominance which forced him to utterly surrender. When he would erupt inside her, her aggression would disappear, and she would soften into as close to kittenish as a Jinko could get, cooing and cuddling him. Then, she would feed him, and use her paw or her breasts to bring him to a climax. She would lick his seed off her clawed fingers and swallow.

Ketsaltik’s existence became this cycle for days. Sleep, sex, feed. Of his dreams, little was worth saying, except that the Shadow Things had become mere marks, raging at him from afar in a way that made his dreams all the more pleasant.

Finally, after uncountable days, he awoke, and his Jinko jailer/wife was not holding him fast. The stones blocks were pulled away, and his Jinko was outside, standing calmly as she looked out into the jungle.

Ketsaltik stood, and nearly fell. It had been days since he had done so, and his legs were extremely sore from the merciless workout his Jinko mistress had given him. He tottered towards her.

As he emerged from the hut he saw her cat ears prick up and the next thing he saw was a furry blur with a grin. She pounced upon him with a happy laugh, covering his face with kisses.

“My Ketsaltik is awake! The day can begin…” Kotona exclaimed happily.

“So…is it over?” Ketsaltik asked. “Your Heat?”

“Well…yes. For now. Now it’ll just happen at random until the next Season, maybe once or twice a week.”

Ketsaltik’s eyes bulged. “Once or twice a week?” He asked.

Kotona nodded, eagerly. They both watched as his penis stiffened, and he smiled.

“Do I get to have clothes ever again?” He asked.

Kotona let out a deep sigh. “I suppose so. We can make you a nice tunic and some boots for those soft feet of yours,” she said. She kissed him sweetly on the lips.

“Now,” she said, tugging one of her wonderful breasts free as her paw grasped his cock and squeezed. “Are you hungry?”

Ketsaltik smiled, and took her pouting nipple between his lips. “Famished,” he said as he began to suckle.

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6 thoughts on “Of Dreams and Vows (Jinko)

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