Kinverse: Volume One

PATH OF THE EMERALD MAIDEN

A naive young monster's tale by Moros, aka KinverseWriter

Legal Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise herein mentioned. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters and events in this story are entirely fictional. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. This work of fiction contains disturbing content.

Reader discretion is advised.

Description:

A young woman from a pre-neolithic society is accidentally whisked away to another world entirely during a raid on a research lab run by alien invaders. Stranded with no friends, badly injured, and no idea where home even is, she's forced to live off the land and learn how to survive in this strange and hostile world.

There's only one slight problem, though.

She's not trapped in this world with them. They're trapped in this world with her.

Categories:

Adventure, Coming-of-Age, Isekai, Erotica.

Disclaimers:

This story contains sexual elements and disturbing themes. The contents aren't purely intended to be pornographic, but some scenes objectively are. This is about a giant monster that eats people, so reader discretion is advised. This story contains vorarephilic themes.

This story will have a very slow and intermittent pace to begin with. True stakes don't really show up until halfway through, though the build-up is always there in the background. This is ultimately not a story of grand adventure and defeating one's enemies to rise to the top, it is the tale of a lost and naive young woman growing as a person and learning new things. It is a personal one concerning her, and thus this story will be told in present-tense first-person.

Chapter 40: Learning (X)

---

A/N:

This is a monster of a chapter to finish off the arc, coming in at over 5k words. It took over three weeks to actually get done due to a combination of my being distracted, it being a bit harder of a chapter to write, and just slowly putting in a bit of work on it every few days until getting the second half done in the final few.

Lots of things happen. Things get cleaned up, old questions are answered, and Emeral takes time for herself. Depending on where and how you're reading this you will have noticed the tag(s) for this chapter; it's a sex scene one. I have a lot to say on that in the ending author's note contextualization.

But first, before the chapter: let's be honest with each other here. If you've come this far and haven't just stumbled upon this chapter it's not because you're reading this erotica for the sex scenes. The sex scenes are all pivotal moments for the plot, sure, but that's precisely it: the plot. You're reading this for Emeral, not her touching herself and learning her body. Maybe you started reading because giant alien sex, or giant alien nomming on people, yadda yadda, even if the actual scenes for eating people are more literal and non-fetishistic (in this book of the series). Regardless, you're still here because of Emeral.

That's why you're here. That's why I'm here. The sex scenes are merely a part of the greater whole playing their part. This story wouldn't be what it is without these little moments that matter.

Emeral is a person, and this is her story.

---

“I'll see what I can do, but you must have had one hell of a party down here."

I grimace as Mom surveys the damage. Sam was woken by the crunching last night and even though Emeral was gone by the time she checked it out it was clear why our basement lounge couch is now... well, flattened for lack of a better term. When I decided to let her crash at our place this isn't what I'd had in mind...

Her nose scrunches and old eyes wrinkle further as she sniffs. “Carey, you two haven't been doing weird new zoomer drugs, have you? It smells weird down here and I raised you two better than that."

I'd gotten used to Emeral's clinging breath and forgotten about it. “No no," I hurriedly respond. “We've got a mold infestation down here, a benign one."

She gives me a glare. “A mold infestation, huh?"

The amount of lying I've had to do to keep her a secret almost makes me wish to just come clean. But I don't. “You're probably smelling some of the stuff we're using on it." Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “...Which is non-toxic so don't worry, Mom."

She shrugs and returns to picking through the cushions and splintered planks. “This old thing looks like the house fell on it. I won't bother asking what the hell you kids did but I will say that fixing this isn't worth the effort." She kicks aside a wholly detached armrest. “I know I did raise you two to be thrifty but it was only a matter of time until this curbside special gave in. At least I don't see any mold in the wood but your idea is just ludicrous." She glances at Emeral's mattress back upright along the wall. “And that should have been gotten rid of by now too. Mold loves mattresses."

I shuffle my feet in embarrassment, ignoring her latter remark. “Well... repairing it would work best for us. And money is a bit tight at the moment."

She snorts. “So let me get this straight. Instead of buying a new couch or at least finding a new freebie, you want me to haul this heap of junk out, replace the busted planks, and put metal reinforcements in it."

“Yep."

“Kid..." she chuckles. “You're lucky your grandfather taught me carpentry... and that I know a guy from my welding days with some good scrap metal. Give me a week."

---

Mom's truck trundles down the gravel drive and disappears around the corner, Emeral's mess in its back. Sighing to myself I head back inside.

I make my way to my own bedroom, flick on the lights, and throw open the curtains. The beast on my bed hisses and curls tighter like a big brown vampire armadillo, the bed creaking ominously.

“You better not break my bed too, damn it." It creaks further as I climb on and tug at her head, trying to coax her to finally get up. She was one hell of a wakeup half an hour after she broke the couch and ended up forcing me to sleep in the living room instead if I didn't want to end up locked in her arms to this hour. Predictably she simply pulls herself tighter so I give up and rub at her jowl. She lets out a rumbling grunt but otherwise remains immobile.

“Sam!" I shout, Emeral twitching and growling in response. “Get the encouragement."

I lie back against my friend as the sounds and smell of cooking meat drift from the kitchen. She fidgets and squirms slightly but otherwise stays as she is. Sam finally finishes and on a breakfast tray brings a plate of hamburgers à la Goose. Sniffs and snorts sound out behind me and her head finally rises, though her eyes are sealed as she navigates by scent alone. Sam brings it close and Emeral's jaws open but they close on empty air as the tray is pulled back.

She growls again in response but refuses to budge.

I slap her shoulder. “Get up, and you get the burgers. Stay and sleep, and we get an early lunch. Your choice."

A single eye opens a fraction and searches around, locking first on the tray, then Sam, then me. Its partner behind opens and her head turns, the other two blinking open. Her neck twists out further and Sam backs away, prompting another petulant rumble.

“Need," she demands, her tongue flicking out to try and gain just a bit more distance; but Sam is too far now, she'll have to get up if she wants it.

“Get up," I order to the lazy alien. “You're being a brat, Emeral. You can't sleep on my bed all day."

“Can," she retorts and “Need," she justifies.

The bed creaks as I get up, rounding to the other side where I begin to press my weight against her considerable bulk. My focus on cardio and leg exercise over core and arms shows as she barely shifts.

“Up!" I demand.

“No!" she complains. “Need food. Need rest. Hurt in."

I stop for a moment to process. Is she sick again? It's definitely possible. “Where hurt?" I ask.

She brings an arm and hand out from her ball and pokes her scalp and her belly. A headache and tummy ache.

“Okay. So here's how to fix that. You need food and need rest, right?" I ask.

She nods. “Light gone too."

“Then you can rest in the nice and dark basement and eat some human food that helps when we're not feeling good. How about it?"

All four eyes blink shut for long moments. They open, and she quietly shifts and gets up.

“Thank you. Now let's go."

Sam leads the way with the tray and I insert myself between Emeral and her lure. As she gets to the doorway her sides scrape it as she squeezes through. I stop and watch in confusion, recalling just last week her having no trouble getting through. Sam has stopped too and Emeral glares at me obstructing her path. I turn ahead and motion for Sam, confused due to my stopping, to continue.

She has a repeat incident with the basement doorway and then the lounge's. I bring her mattress down from the wall with a whumph and creak of springs. Sam leads the alien over to it while I close the windows' blinds. Emeral settles in on her mattress and slurps up a burger, stopping to savor its taste and texture before gulping it down.

“So Sam..." I begin. “I think you might have been right. Go get your measurement notes."

---

With the light on while they do it, the two sisters repeat their odd actions from days prior. Sam takes notes and Carey climbs all over me with the measuring strip, calling out numbers.

Sam looks up from her piece of paper. “Yep, I was right. A whole six inches wider, many more longer, all with respect to her proportions. She's bigger."

Carey hisses. “I was worried about that. She's not just fatter, she is larger."

Her sister frowns. “How are we going to keep feeding her at this rate? We're going to have to put our feet down and feed her only what a human would eat. She can get the rest herself in the forest."

Easily doable, provided I don't lose my dinner thanks to disgusting human poisons. It means less cooked meat, though... but there's a solution to that.

“I bring meat, you cook?" I ask.

The two sisters share a glance at each other and Sam looks thoughtful before speaking. “It would raise our gas bill, but that's nowhere as bad as it's been regarding food costs... and you would need to butcher any elk you kill out in the forest... but it could work. And you might even be able to feed us with the venison."

I have no issue eating raw meat, but my eyes have been opened to something greater. Having gone dormant and sedentary my food needs are lower, and so long as I take it slow and ambush elk I shouldn't need much energy. It's the perfect plan.

I smile and nod to the two. “Yes. I kill. You cook. We eat."

Carey huffs. “I'm pretty sure this normally counts as poaching but this isn't a very normal situation. She needs food somehow and not needing to buy meat for ourselves would free up money in the budget for fruits to keep her healthy." She crooks her chin in her hand. “I'll have to figure out some way for Emeral to store and move the meat, but yeah, it could work."

---

The next day Carey puzzles over a cooler filled with ice. From my crop I bring up large saliva-slimed chunks of chewed up meat. She covers her own mouth and walks off gagging. How odd. With her refusal clear I retrieve them along with a mouthful of ice to chew on.

---

I carefully walk back home from the forest with the cooler in my arms, this time filled with meat straight from my second kill of the day. Humans are so picky! It felt odd to slice away pieces with my claws rather than just bite, tear, and swallow to my crop. Knowing the humans, there's probably some reason why they don't like my saliva on the meat for cooking... though it could just be Carey's established pickiness.

---

Sam takes the pieces one by one and slices them smaller with a large knife on a piece of wood. She wraps them in paper and sets them aside, where Carey bundles them into the basement freezer. The paper reminds me of the food Carey once gave me when I was sick last time. As I've learned from her unwrapping other steaks clearly the paper is meant to protect the meat--it isn't actually part of the meal...

---

I sit in front of the television sounding out letters as Sam makes her and Carey's lunch: patties of 'cow' meat--the animals the steaks I like come from--between two 'buns' of 'bread;' they're called 'hamburgers' apparently and they're definitely interesting. For my lunch in repeat of yesterday I got a large bowl of yellowed water filled with bits of soft, soggy meat and 'noodles,' which are strips of... something.

'Chicken noodle soup,' they called it; the meal was certainly interesting in a different way. I'd have rather had more burgers to be honest, even if the buns were a little weird what with being neither meat nor plant. The patties were quite delicious and served as an adequate tribute to make me move.

---

I pull the odd door's knob back and aside. The closet door folds away along metal rails and a wave of smells hit me.

All of it smells distinctly of Carey, with the clothes in a tall bin carrying other scents--especially sweat. I had no idea that Carey owns so many coverings and in such varied shapes, sizes, and colors! I've seen her using the 'washing' machine to clean hers every seven nights and she's definitely not worn all of these that I've seen.

The shirts and pants seem to have two different variations: their limb-sleeves short or long. There are socks for her feet, a few pairs of gloves for her hands, and her undergarments. The coverings I understand but the purposes of the fittingly named 'underwear' and not-so-fittingly named 'bras' still eludes me.

Her larger clothes are hung up whilst her smaller ones are in open-topped containers; bins. Defaulting to the ancient technique to figure out what something is for, I snag a bra and hold it up to my nose.

Sniff. Sniff.

It just... smells like Carey. Having been thoroughly bathed by that machine the only scent to be found other than her is that of the strange pods which Carey wouldn't let me anywhere near.

Whatever then. I toss it over my back and continue raiding her closet for the stash of food that called me here.

---

My tail impatiently flicks around though I retain the mindfulness to not hit anything or anyone. Down the table, with a hand holding up her chin Carey looks down at her phone. In a moment of curiosity I bring my own arm up and rest my own jaw on it. Thanks to my longer neck the result isn't the best but I maintain the position. Carey looks up, sees my gaze on her, and cracks up laughing. Sam scoffs from the kitchen and finally walks in with dinner.

In front of Carey and her own place she sets down a plate each of light brown spice-speckled meat sided by white bits and green not-berries--'rice' and 'peas,' the latter another weird human word that confusingly has multiple wildly different meanings. I've tried both vegetables before and been left wanting, so when she delivers my own plate I'm pleased to note only meat with a side of peeled oranges in a bowl.

For whatever reason Carey waited for me to be fed before so much as touching her knife and fork; more weird human things. I take my elbow off the table and stab two claws into a chunk of this new meat. A third from my other hand comes in and slices it in half as I have been shown how to do, parting the surprisingly weak roasted flesh. Careful not to touch the meat with anything but my claws I impale one half with the rest of my hand's claws and bring it to my mouth.

Under the spicing the texture if not the taste is instantly vaguely familiar which answers many questions, some I'd forgotten I even had. This is bird meat! Like from the goose I once ate on the shore of the lake, though properly defeathered and cooked!

I toss and turn the hunk of meat in my mouth in delight, humming in contentment. I catch Sam and Carey smiling as they eat, clearly pleased by my reaction. I love cow but the meat of a bird is a rare treat that I just can't pass up. I never did return to the lake and have thus never found another bird of such size, so this... is great.

The spice tingles my tongue as it always does. I don't know what exactly it is but the humans are right to make use of it: it absolutely adds something to the meal and a corner of my mind wanders and wonders whether spicing would make humans worth the poor meat. I get lost in a tangent daydreaming about spiced man before shaking it off and returning to my cooling bits of bird meat. It is so much better cooked than the goose was, as has the rest of the meats I've eaten.

“So Emeral, you like it?" Carey beams. “Better than my cheat day supply I'd hope."

I nod vigorously, the meat squishing and melting against my palate. Far better than the weird crunchy triangles, even if they were spicy. “Good meat. Tasty. What from?"

She picks up her phone and starts tapping. “It's from a chicken," she explains and shows off the screen to me bearing an image of a brown-feathered avian with a small beak and bare feet, topped with a red frill.

“Khicken," I mimic. “Khicken. Shicken. Chicken."

She smiles. “You've definitely been doing better with your speech lessons."

I swell up in pride. My hunts for knowledge and power have certainly borne fruit. Before I forget it any longer I return to my chicken.

The venison of an elk has less fat than that of the unseen cow. This has barely any. The wolves were stringy and leaner, good for muscle and thus power rather than nutrition. The various tiny creatures which roam the undergrowth and trees of this land are barely anything at all and I can't imagine having to live off of them as the smaller predators do--emphasis on smaller. I've avoided the various birds due to their not being worth it of course, but aside from one other meat this chicken has to be my favorite--better even than cow.

Chicken, cow, and venison may taste good but they all lack that power. Were it not for my desire to remain unseen and unnoticed I would go and hunt for more after this... but I shall not. It is a time of learning for me, a time of rest and growth of the mind over the body. I have certainly taken much to fuel my teaching and I will likely need far more if I am ever to truly understand the humans and their things.

My mind bursts with concepts and ideas, and with the taste of chicken on my tongue and another almost forgotten question brought to mind, I have the perfect idea for ending this productive day.

When I finish my chicken I swiftly empty my bowl of oranges into my jaws and leave for the basement.

---

My earlier treks to find elk were so very tiring, the second trip especially. I think I'm getting used to this horrible air but it's certainly not helped. My dormancy may have reduced how much food I need but the side effects of not needing that food is not having that food for energy.

More than that, I feel tired in the mind. Mother says that broodlings must never be allowed to gorge else their minds become tired and never wake up; that they must be given time to properly learn to think. I'm certainly in no danger of that but it's still so exhausting to think about so many things and learn so much.

But now finally, I have time for myself and my body. I smile wide as I saunter into the basement lounge, excitement welling up within me. There's always energy for playtime, after all.

I pass a regretful glance where my couch once was. I'll have to be more careful in the future with my things, especially if I were to get any bigger. I may one day need to start crawling through doorways on my side, even. My Carey has sent it off for repairs but still: my two more fragile possessions aren't so easily fixed...

I gingerly lay back on my mattress as a human would. The springs protest but hold my weight; this is just a big cushion and there is no frame to break.

I set my neck back where it comes to rest against the wall, my head ending up looking to the ceiling. This thing was made with human proportions in mind and I doubt any exist in the world that would let me sleep like one--which makes it a good thing I can curl in whereas the humans and their seemingly rigid spines can't. They're completely made for an upright stance; I wonder how well a male of my people would fare with a bed like this, then? They do like laying on their backs.

Bah. I'm delaying.

Where do I begin? The last time I'd tried this was when I was spying on the humans in their tent and was interrupted. What I want out of it is recreating those feelings in the cave later with the woman... though inevitably with less stuffing myself silly.

Placing one hand out to stabilize me I crane my now-longer neck down to observe what I'm working with here. My plates give way to scales coating flesh with a crease between my legs, and a slightly protruding sphincter behind it at the base of my tail. I reach my other hand down to touch the region. The scales down here are small and to be honest are of little defensive benefit. In exchange this grants better feeling and even a bit of give to my flesh.

I tighten my squat and the flesh seals to a thin line. My knees part and I'm open again.

Maybe that's why humans wear underwear? To protect their bits from the weather? Human penises are outside all the time so it would especially make sense for the males. It would also prevent their rougher pants from chafing--which isn't an issue for me thanks to it concealing itself.

I press down, gently dig a claw into my slit, and part it aside. I've seen my own vagina before. I've opened my own vagina before. I've even toyed with it a bit! But now that my neck has grown in I can get a closer look.

A second claw descends and pulls the rest aside. The muscles meant to keep me closed aren't too demanding and yield quite easily, but to free up my hand I squat my legs apart anyways. The slit's lips pull apart and I'm shocked to find details that I'd originally missed!

I'd thought it was just a simple hole, but there's actually a second very tiny one just above. I prod a claw in carefully but it doesn't stretch at all, only bringing a bit of painful pressure rather than any pleasure. Not the fun hole, then. Liquid waste most likely.

To each side of my vagina are two slight ridges I'd never noticed before. I brush a knuckle against one and feel tonight's first tingling sensation. I continue along the rim around to its twin, the tingles ebbing then flowing. So these two ridges seem more sensitive. Okay then.

Mindful of my sharp blades I continue my circle and press the knuckle in, closing my squat enough that the ridges press against my finger. I shiver at the feeling and note to clamp just so to use these oddities. Soon slick with lubricant my knuckle rubs forward and back along my slit and its ridges, keeping my scaled hood pressed open.

I lose myself for a moment, beginning to huff out deep breaths. I can smell my own arousal both from down there and my own scentspeech--any male within the house would instantly know what's going on and feel the call. My other fingers' knuckles find their places to each side caressing my groin's soft scales. Idly I wonder what a human's soft skin would feel like rubbing me down there...

“Hagh." A bolt of energy surges through me and I buck against my mate. I blink open my weary eyes to find nothing but smooth ceiling bringing me back to reality.

My rubbing slows and my lips purse. I may never see another of my people again. I may need to settle for a mere human male. I would never be able to truly hunt with one, nor truly consummate with one, and certainly not have children with one, but it may be all that I have so it will be considered. A suitable candidate would need to be found and while I already have one potential man in mind, it would make things complicated--like all things to do with humans. It would do only for satisfying myself and nothing more.

I shake my musings and thoughts of the future away in favor of today's 'relaxation.' To shake things up I try bringing a second finger in but it just complicates thing. Instead with courage I slip my taloned finger out and press in.

I hiss and bark feeling every steady inch, going slowly and surely in fear of my claw. My finger's smooth carapace takes easily to the lubed flesh and slides perfectly, only a slight pressured complaint with each knuckle.

I dare not try a second. I'm sure that a human could manage three on themselves--maybe even their whole hand in me!--but there's no way that my claws would allow it. The most primal part of my mind which normally screams to hunt and kill and feast has silenced its chorus in favor of one demand I cannot fulfill: more.

Curse them and their deft, almost clawless fingers! I growl and decide that finding a human that is especially mine must be a priority for the future. I want more! One with good fingers, nice teeth, and a pleasing smell!

I slick my finger idly side to side to tamp down my frustrations...

...and then freeze in thought.

There is more.

I pull out and bring my hand to my face, my tongue coming out cautiously to taste my excretions. It's... a taste, for sure; one which I'll have to bear with before the day is done. It is time for the next part.

Lowering my muzzle closer between my legs I slip my tongue's tip to tickle my scaly labia. The region has swelled with blood and heat in a pleasant but demanding sensation. Indulging this I teasingly swirl the sensitive nerves, evoking a subconscious happy rumbling. More. I edge closer with each twirl before finally flicking over the crevice and holding. Parting my jaws and hips more I press my tongue down into the opening and let out a gasping huff from the renewed sensation.

Next comes a single long, slow lick. Spittle and juices flow down the base of my tail to my mattress below, sullying it but indisputably marking it as mine. My own scentspeech has long since permeated the room to convey just how enjoyable this has swiftly become: female, reasonably healthy, without a mate, yet still satisfied. The latter components are an odd paradox but this is a new reality for me.

Flicking my tongue's tip out and away I let out a bestial growl and slather it back. Returning to the top my next lick comes deeper, parting me further and sending those so-addictive tingles through my clitoral ridges. Back I come and further I go, greedily tasting more and more, deeper and deeper. My internal muscles clench down on my tongue, rumbling vibrations from my purrs exciting my flesh all the more.

Each deliberate or errant flick within sends a shiver, ordering the muscles to tighten and tug. Muscles fight against muscle as I both spectate and experience the tug of lust. I swish and oh do I slather, and I love every single moment of it. Were my tongue that of a lover or rather his penis I could lose myself in the sensations but I am forced to eagerly, achingly remain slow and deliberate to learn and feel.

Shlp... shlp... shlp... shlp...

Despite the would-be spasms and kicks I fight, I assert control and train. The muscles within I work to master just as I work my tongue to pleasure. Regardless of if I ever make it home, this is an experience to both remember and learn from.

A mechanical clicking tries to interrupt my reverie but it won't take me out of this, or my tongue from my snatch. “Emeral? Are you okay?" Sam calls through the opening door.

I turn up my eyes to glare at my Sam. Were she a Kin she would know not to interrupt me unless she were here to answer the call, but alas, she is just a human. Notably she is also not the sister which likes females, so she is simply here on accident. I flourish my tongue out with a flick before bringing it back up for another long and painstakingly slow draw. A beat passes and she blinks in confusion.

“I... I... uh... noises..." she stutters before turning and slamming the door. “DEFINITELY FEMALE!" she yells from the hall, footfalls pounding up the stairs.

I rumble out a deep chuckle. I'm sure she's jealous. Her would-be mate is almost certainly unable to please her as I can myself, not that I've scented them fulfilling their relationship yet.

Moving on from my licking I upgrade to something more fulfilling. The shape of my tongue is a minor hindrance as I'm forced to shove it in if I want to slip it any deeper, cupping it around as well. Experimentally I clench and unclench the muscles within, tugging and pulling to try and help it along. Both my tongue and my vaginal muscles complain and grow sore, both from compressing and being compressed, but they'll have ample time to rest after.

A peal of laughter erupts from upstairs, the playful sound of my Carey. Shouts I pay no attention to answer it back. I go deeper, and deeper, and deeper, flicking and flecking a specific and oddly nice part until suddenly- ACK!

I recoil all the way out and flail back! What was that?! I kept shoving down and then I touched something and then pain! Grumbling to myself I cautiously grab my flashlight from my open bag with juice-soaked fingers. Flicking it on and prying myself open with my other hand, I do my best to glimpse down.

Working my muscles I attempt to unclench them back as far as I can, my thighs straining apart as well. It's dim within me but at the end of my passage is what appears to be some sort of nub with a claw prick-sized hole in it. Ah. Right. I went too deep then.

Lovers' gossip is one thing common among sisters that I was never able to partake in, but an older sister of mine would never shut up about her mate. He was an otherwise unassuming but virile man who did relatively poorly in his trials. He allegedly had 'a reach' so long he couldn't insert it all the way else it hurt. We all dismissed it as posturing and one-upping, but perhaps there is something to it.

I flick my flashlight back off and slip it aside back into my bag. More cautiously this time I force my tongue back down, nearing its length's limits until finally the tip BRUSHES against it and pain jolts once more. Not like the ridges then. Don't play with that.

I pull back out reluctantly; now for the final thing I want to try tonight. Rooting around in my bag I pull free a banana bunch. Eyeing them carefully I estimate none are too long. Detaching a nice one, I give it a good lick to coat it in saliva and bring it down to my sex. It would absolutely be large compared to a human's, but this is probably better suited for my size.

Its tip slips in reluctantly, the pressure made nicer because I can relax without needing to focus on keeping things going. Soon enough nothing but the stem remains and I begin to pump my improvised dildo in and out.

It feels amazing but it also feels... not right. If I'm going to have to make do with a human then I shouldn't spoil myself like an adolescent fed only by others. My tongue is one thing, but this is just too close to what I could expect from the paltry creatures. Tugging it out with a popping schlorp I toss the lubed toy into my mouth. It's been pulped by my muscles' squeezings and workings... hopefully any human wouldn't be too fragile down there as well.

Annoyed and horny I content to scale back any further experimentation and just fulfill my night, now mindful of my limits. Shlicking and schlacking sounds throughout the basement as I pant around my tongue. My labia tries to seal as my thighs come down on the back of my head on instinct, pulling myself closer and almost painfully tighter as anticipation rises in a wave. I'm forced to calm myself and take it slower what with how hard it is to slip my fat tongue in and out even with the ample lubrication, and while the wave comes slower it comes all the same.

A breathy gasping moan squeaks out from my throat and I clench. I lose half my mind in the moment as my senses overload, feeling only the bliss of climax, my tongue deep in myself, and the desperate springs beneath my roiling form. All the rest I can conceive to do is continue to pump in, and out, and in, and out...

Slowly the wave recedes to choppy rapids, then a flowing river, and finally to a placid stream. Panting hard, I pull myself free and idly lick along in hopes that more of the rush will come. I can feel it, but it would take so much work... so much enjoyable work, but I'm completely exhausted.

I'd felt this before... back in the cave. But that was rushed. This was something else altogether. Perhaps I was too focused on my meal to get as much enjoyment, perhaps that woman was simply not very good at what she was doing. It certainly felt amazing in the moment, but that was many weeks ago and this is now.

And now... now I curl up in on myself, giving my slit one last good night lick, and promptly fall asleep.

---

“-a-a-and at first I thought she was just bathing like a cat or something but- she- just kept licking down there and she stared right at me and she was just-"

I cackle and slap my knee at her story. Emeral taking lady time for herself is something I never thought of, but I suppose she truly is just a woman.

Sam's face turns even redder than before. “She knew what she was doing! She was doing that devious little smile she does and everything! Like when she gets an idea she knows we won't like!"

Ha! Yeah, a great tell for when I'm about to have to clean up a mess or fix something.

“I told you, Sam," I chuckle. “I told you she was a girl! She's got needs too!"

Her gums flap open and closed and she throws her hands up. “Yeah, well- you sound like Mom when you laugh!"

That takes me out of it. “I do not!"

“Yes you do!"

“I do not cackle!"

END OF ARC THREE

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A/N:

The first arc was about Emeral finding herself in this new world. The second was about her learning more. This one was about her finding a place in it. The fourth... is about coming to terms with her new reality. And perhaps finding a consort, that too. She would think that the last part is the most important one.

For those who missed a minor offhandedly mentioned interaction, Emeral was rooting around in Carey's closet because she smelled food in there. She found and raided Carey's chips stash.

One thing I want to note is 'Emeral's accent.' She cannot speak english as well as is 'shown' in the story. Rather than have to suffer through a gradually improving version of what you got in the second half of the second arc, it's only ever noted when she especially struggles with a word. She also has a few specific lisps that don't get brought up on-page, but they're there. The most notable is grammar usage; she tends to speak in short, clipped sentences which omit some words because she generally just isn't used to speaking and is more used to the 'all at once' nature of scentspeech where terms and meanings are tacked onto each other rather than led into with other words. To put it her way: Emeral not-speak (some-word (not-need why)), which is three levels of tacked-on meaning.

Anyways. The concepts behind Emeral's personality and behavior was absolutely influenced by house cats, because to be honest... that's what the Kin are: giant house cats. They're lazy apex predators who take great pleasure in hunting and--without restraints--would even prefer to hunt for sport. The whole 'hogging Carey's bed and needing to be lured off with promises of food' bit was actually directly inspired by my cat; he'll ignore you unless he specifically wants attention or it's feeding time and when he thinks it is, he's off and away. Unfortunately he has an eating disorder so he tends to overeat and, unlike Emeral, is not capable of containing it all.

Emeral remarks during the masturbation scene that she felt her first ever orgasm (which was back in the cave) was 'rushed,' and thus not as pleasurable for her. This is a nod to how it was largely brushed over and was in fact rushed, serving as a bit of a note of its occurrence compared to Chapter 18b and this one. This was because it was rushed for multiple reasons: Emeral x Susan wasn't the focus of the chapter (it was the learning about sex stuff and then eating her part), because I wasn't as good of a writer twenty-eight chapters ago, and because it really was rushed somewhat intentionally. I have no regrets for how the chapter came out and wouldn't rewrite it as it tells the exact story I wanted told. Another theme of it I wanted to convey was the awkwardness of the situation, with both just kind of... going with it.

18b was Emeral from a wholly outside perspective showing that beneath the giant murder alien she's honestly pretty damn cute even if she is quite controlling. This chapter is the true Emeral sex stuff chapter where she's actually sitting down and figuring stuff out now that she knows more. Some people would scoff that out of forty chapters there's only three dedicated erotic ones, but that's... well, that's the point. This story is an erotica, not a smut fic. It's a story with porn, not porn with a story. The draw behind the book is first and foremost Emeral, not who she's fucking and how--and that's how I like it.

In my experience erotic literature is either rather short (as in, a short story) or it sucks (being just the same smut over and over again and/or with the quality expected of a horny teen).

A review, quoted:

“Emerald Maiden, was not what I was expecting when I downloaded it, but I have become SO invested Curious One's journey! keep up the great work"

-A user on SoFurry.com

When probed further for specifics, they responded with:

“Mainly I wasn't expecting the "young woman from a pre-neolithic society" to be a non humanoid apex predator, or for the other world to be earth.

“I was just looking for porn, but I'm a sucker for familiar things being describe through alien eyes"

And that? That's Emerald Maiden. That is what Emerald Maiden is. It's an untapped niche and a surprisingly deep story of a cute not-little murder alien who's really just a young woman who doesn't know better and wants to. Also, she fucks a few people.