Page 27 of The Hornet’s Hucow Pet

I eat the rest of my swan, and when my hands are empty, Zyren fills them again with slices of red citrus.

Bright juice slides down my arm, and I hold it out straight, trying to stop it from running further as I glance around for a plate or somewhere to set the fruit still in my hands.

Zyren’s fingers catch my wrist, and his warm tongue slides up my arm, erasing the juice and sending my heart fluttering.

As I stare, stunned, Zyren cooly resumes his slicing.

A blush rises to my cheeks, and I eat the rest of my fruit.

Then, Zyren offers me a handful of seeds. They’re rich and delicious, and each one I eat only seems to make me hungrier.

I reach for a stack of fruit slices on the cutting board, but Zyren lightly cuffs my hand and clicks his tongue.

I gather my hand back to my chest.

“Those are for me,” Zyren says, putting one of the slices in his mouth.

“But I’m still hungry.” The whiny words slip out of my mouth, but there’s no reprimand in Zyren’s patient, steady expression.

“I know, little lamb. And you’ll be hungry until your breasts are full of milk again. You need to rest. Stay hungry for me just a while longer.”

“I’m sure I—” A panging ache runs through my breasts, and they’re already larger than they were at the hot spring, as if the fat from the seeds is going straight there. I rub my chest, adjusting to the strange sensation. Another painful pang makes me whimper. “Oh…”

Zyren lightly grips my chin between his thumb and first finger. “Don’t worry, little lamb. I’ll take care of you.”

“Will it hurt as much this time?”

“Not if you follow my directions.”

“Yes, doctor,” I breathe.

His thumb caresses my lip, and a shadow of a smile crosses his face. “That’s my good little lamb.”

Zyren prepares a nest of blankets for me, and before I can ask how I’m going to entertain myself, my sleepy body is already dozing. He puts on music, and while some of the melody progressions are strange to my ear, it’s still soothing.

Every time I stir, I’m offered something different—more fruit, another glass of water, a handful of seeds.

Zyren sits nearby, legs tucked tidily under him, reading from a leather-bound book with glasses perched on his nose.

Fuck, he’s hot.

Heat coils at my core, but I’m too sleepy to do anything about it.

My breasts ache. I roll over, trying to get comfortable, but the pain turns sharp and I whimper quietly.

Then suddenly Zyren’s warm hands are on me, kneading every tender spot

Relief spreads from his touch.

I’m not saying access to a 24/7 masseuse would have cured me, but it certainly wouldn’t have hurt. Maybe the ICSS didn’t try everything, after all.

A seed lands on my tongue, and I obediently eat it.

I completely lose track of time as Zyren slowly feeds me, massaging away the ache all the while. I have no idea how he has the patience for it, but I can only hope he finds the milk to be worth it, because this is heaven.

Eventually, the ache outpaces even Zyren’s soothing touch.

“They’re so full,” I moan, squirming as I try to get comfortable.