And so our training continued. In addition to the expanders, Sir also made me wear a tail—a slim wand with a small bump in the middle to keep it in place that slid deep into my anus. From its end sprouted a long, silky tail of pure white fibers.
Sir informed me that the color of the fibers described the state of the pet. In this case, they meant I was innocent and had been with only one Master—and also that I was off-limits to any other male. The tail protected me, he explained—I could not be fucked or bred by anyone except Sir on pain of death. Which was, of course, fitting for the Sex Pet of the Overlord.
At first I didn’t like the tail—it felt odd to have something in my “back door.” But Sir made me practice prancing around on my hands and knees while the long, silky fibers tickled the backs of my thighs until I got used to it. Soon I could stay in “Pet Position” on my hands and knees and hold still with the tail in place, no matter what he did to me or how he teased my naked body.
And so my training progressed. Sir praised me and called me a “good girl” and a “good pet” and “my sweet darling,” when I was good. When I was naughty, I got a smack on the bottom that made me yelp and left a red handprint on my ass cheeks. I have to admit, I loved all of it. Part of me felt like I ought to be ashamed that I was submitting so easily to my alien Master, but another part felt like I had somehow come home.
Don certainly never would have thought to “train” me this way—and to be honest, I wouldn’t have let him. I hadn’t respected my fiancé very much, I admitted to myself. He wasn’t very masterful or very interesting—he wasn’t anything like Sir. And yet, I still yearned to go home to my family. So even though I felt closer and closer to my Master, I still never thought in terms of staying with him forever.
After Sex Pet training, which sometimes went on for hours, Sir and I had our last meal of the day—nutritional gel cubes of course--and then spent the evening hours on the couch, watching one of his many vids on the entertainment wall. Though I still couldn’t do the interactive ones, the vids were invaluable in teaching me about his culture and people and the many different classes and castes of Korrigon society.
But of course, we didn’t just watch movies. Sir would spread a towel for me on the couch and I would lay on my side sucking his cock while hiscandallafilled me and helped my pussy expand. It came in me often too, though Sir was careful to keep an eye on it and never let it fill me with the golden-sheened breeding cream, which he said would cause me toneedto be bred. If unattended, he said his candalla would certainly fill my pussy with the volatile stuff that would make me go nearly crazy, needing his cock inside me before I was ready to take it.
It was for this reason that I had to wear the metal expander in my pussy at night instead of being filled with his tail.
“When I’m asleep, I have much less control over mycandalla,” he explained to me when I complained about going to bed with the hard, cold metal thing inside me. “He still thinks you need to be bred and he wouldn’t hesitate to slide inside you and fuck you until he could spurt your womb full of breeding cream if I didn’t keep an eye on him.”
I grumbled about this—I was pretty sure his tail was at least lacing the lubricant it shot in me with the cream, because Ialwayswanted to be filled—just not with the hard, cold expander. But I also had no wish to get pregnant with an alien baby before I was supposed to go back home. So I did as Sir said, and wore the metal expander to sleep in.
After we went to bed, Sir would hold me in his arms and I would curl against his chest, feeling little and warm and protected in a way I never had before. No guy I’d ever been with had ever made me feel so loved—so cherished—and I adored being close to my alien Master and breathing in his warm, spicy scent as I drifted off to sleep.
It was a good routine and I would have been happy with it except for two things. First, I was heartily sick of the nutritional gel cubes. And second, Sirstillwouldn’t let me come. He teased me endlessly until I always felt just on the edge of orgasm, but I could never quite get there. Sir still told me he was saving my first orgasm for something special but at this point, I was willing to do anything to ease the sexual tension.
This went on for several weeks and then one day, as Sir had me in “Pet formation” on my hands and knees on the bed with the special golden pet jewelry on, he frowned and looked at me more closely.
“Little one,” he said. “I do believe you’re losing some of your curves.”
“If you mean am I losing weight, yes I probably am,” I said. “You’ve basically got me on the Keto diet.”
“The what?” Sir frowned.
“Lots of protein and not much else,” I clarified. Of course, I know there’s more to Keto than that, but it was the easiest way to explain it to him.
Sir raised an eyebrow at me.
“And this kind of diet causes humans to lose weight?”
“Apparently,” I said. “Though I tried it before back on Earth and it didn’t work for me.”
In fact,no diethad worked for me—or they only worked for a little while and then every pound I lost came back and brought a friend with it. But spending time with Sir had finally done what the diet industry couldn’t—I was finally losing weight.
Who knew the only diet that would actually work for me was being locked in an alien spacecraft with a strict Master who fed me nothing but bland Jell-O cubes and cum? (Okay, sorry if that’s gross, but it’s true—right?)
“Do you have a mirror I can use to look at myself?” I asked Sir.
“I do have a viewer. Come this way.” He picked me up off the bed and set me down in front of a blank wall on the far side of his bedroom. He tapped the wall three times and a section of it rotated, showing a shiny surface.
I asked Sir to turn up the lights and then had a look at myself. Sure enough, I was noticeably thinner than I had been a month ago.
“Oh my God!” I moaned happily. “It’s true—I’m actually getting skinny!”
Or as close to it as I had been since middle school, anyway.
But Sir had an extremely concerned look on his face.
“You’rehappyabout this? About losing your curves?” he demanded, gesturing to my reflection in the viewer.
“Happy? I’mecstatic!”I told him. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to lose weight? Basically since fifth grade when Jimmy Stamos call me ‘fatty-fatty-two-by-four’ on the playground and made all the rest of the kids laugh at me and gave me a body complex for the rest of my life.”