Previous chapters:
* Chapter 1 (link)
* Chapter 2 (link)
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Vice had been working a couple of hours, and had succeeded in building a secondary storage shelter and the beginning of a small fence, when he became aware he was not alone.
There was a person standing at the edge of the trees – a person he had never seen before.
She was a human woman, about five and a half feet tall. Her hair was a soft, fiery orange, and hung down halfway to her ass. She was completely nude, and her frame was thin – which drew even more attention to both her cartoonishly huge bulging breasts, and her swollen pregnant belly.
“Hello?” he said, cautiously. He tried to make his body-language non-threatening, as he might in approaching a skittish animal.. “Are you friendly? My name’s Jayson Vice. What’s yours?”
She said nothing, so he put down his tools and carefully walked closer. He felt his cock stiffening again – the woman was like a caricature of sexuality and fertility. He could see her puffy labia between her legs. He thought they looked wet.
“Are you from the Galliard?” he asked – and was surprised when she answered.
“Yes – Galliard,” she said, in a hesitant, accented voice.
“Did they send you?” he asked, approaching closer.
“Yes,” she said. “Master taught me the Old Tongue. They see you here on beach. They see your women’s tits, collars. They have some approve. They send me here to talk and teach.”
“What’s your name?” he asked again. He was about six feet away from her now.
She blushed. “To have identity is shame,” she said, “but bitches need shame, so I am” – and she made a sound that Vice couldn’t have repeated if he tried. She looked hesitant, then said, “In our language that is the same word we use for female pig.”
“Your name is Female Pig?” asked Vice.
She nodded. “Yes, that is good way to call me. I come to help you with way of Galliard.”
He was finding it difficult to ignore his cock now. The woman looked like a rape doll. He wanted to grab those bulging tits and squeeze. They didn’t even look plastic. Rospar had said the Galliard had genetically augmented themselves – maybe these huge fuckballoons were what they had done to their women. And they were lactating! As he watched, a thin rivulet of milk dribbled from her left nipple.
“They sent you to me naked,” said Vice. “Am I allowed to have sex with you?”
She screwed up her face. “Sex is an old word. There is only rape. No distinctions for what women want. Not important.” She paused. “If you rape me, I will be punished.”
He paused. “And what will happen to me?”
She shrugged. “Nothing. Rape is only woman’s fault.”
He swallowed. He wanted to rape this little fuckdoll so much – the events of the last 24 hours had swept away many of his inhibitions, and he saw little reason not to treat every woman as his personal cumrag – and it sounded like he could do so without repercussions – but he wasn’t sure. There was still so much he didn’t know.
He could keep it in his pants, for now.
“So, Female Pig, what did you come to teach us?” he asked.
She blushed, and raised a hand, and for the first time he saw she was carrying something – a small book.
“The Way of Galliard,” she said. “Written in the Old Tongue. A relic. A generous gift. The Masters wish to see you preach from it to your women each night, and have them say the chants. You will find much favour with the Masters if you do.”
He took the book from her – and noticed something else on her wrist. Black letters, in a foreign script.
“What’s that?” he asked.
She blushed, and clearly wanted to hide her arm, but instead held it out for him instead. It was no use – the script was gibberish to him.
Female Pig saw his difficulty. “It shows the date of my first vaginal raping,” said Female Pig, shyly, “and says ‘did not orgasm from having her udders caned’, which is the way in which I was most unsatisfactory to my rapist. All Galliard bitches have such a tattoo. It helps remind me of my purpose and my worthlessness.” She perked up suddenly, looking oddly proud. “But I have learned. I cum quickly now from having my udders abused!”
“Good girl,” said Vice, smiling, and Female Pig practically glowed at the sudden praise.
She corrected him, though. “Good bitch,” she said. “No such thing as girl. Girl means female that is also human. Is” – she struggled, looking for the word – “fiction. Myth.”
“Good bitch,” agreed Vice, and Female Pig smiled at him.
“Do you want to come down to the camp?” asked Vice, gesturing, but Female Pig was already shaking her gorgeous head.
“No,” she said, “I return to the Masters. They may send me back tomorrow, if they choose.” She looked pained. “I am a bad slut for disagreeing with a man, but the Masters will not let me do what you want. You can spank my cunt for contradicting you, if you want?”
Vice shook his head. It could wait. He would see where this was going, and planned to enjoy her on a future occasion. “Go back to your Masters,” he said. “And thank them for the book.”
And just like that, she was gone.
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