You had to be sprayed again by your mistress. You had been having scary thoughts of being free and leaving the forest, but those thoughts are gone now. A pleasant haze has settled over your mind, and the world has grown smaller. As much as you cried when she sprayed you, you feel safe now.
You realize, blearily, that you have been nursing someone's breast for a while, maybe or maybe not your mother's. Warm, maternal hands gently caress your naked pre-teen body as you drink life, having fed upon little else since more of your mind was erased and your body youthened, and a voice sings and croons wordlessly to you, forgiving your powerlessness and nurturing your softness.
As the nipple pops out of your mouth, you give a soft, helpless mew, and your mother smiles down at you and caresses her fingers through your hair, setting you down at her feet as you blush. You are so young, your tender, young breasts are not full enough to be heavy yet with milk, so you lean meekly against your mother's thigh and accept her nurture, letting your mind fall farther and farther away.
Somehow, time passes--perhaps seconds, perhaps years--in a sensual blur of pampering and care, a schooling in docility and submission, and then you have your mother on one side and another skunk-woman on the other, leading you through warm water to a flat stone that lies at its center. They leave you there, and they walk away, their two bottoms swinging pendulously as they disappear into the fronds, vanishing into mist. You remember something about a test.
It is...a trial. For this, you were brought to the cusp of womanhood. In an instant soon to come, you will no longer be a little girl. You're scared.
You look around you. You blink woozily, not really comprehending where you are. You forget soon that you care, though, and you begin combing your tiny claws through your fluffy tale or sometimes through your fur, arranging your virginal, young body on the stone and getting lost in the sleepy rhythm.
A splash startles you, and you realize you see a creature bathing at the far end of the pool, beyond some hanging vines. It hasn't seen you, and it seems engrossed fully in bathing. Slowly, you get up on your paws and knees to watch.
You don't know what a man is, having forgotten most things. You only see a laughing giant half again your height, splashing in the water, with little lines in the shapes of a crow's feet at the periphery of its eyes. Its flesh is the color of bronze and has a sparse, dark pelt that is thicker in places but bare in others, and the fur on its head is dark and wavy.
As you watch its chest, you sit back on your knees with a gasp, folding your arms around your own and blushing hotly. It's muscular and powerful, and you see almost naked muscle dancing beneath the transluscent skin. If it were paused in any moment, it would seem to be cut from stone, but it is miraculously alive and pulsing with potency. It is a miracle that stone can move. You squeal and whimper softly.
Somehow, the man's ears catch on to the sound. "Hello?" he calls through the vines as he wades toward you.
You flush and back away to the far edge of the stone, hunching down timidly.
"You will have to pardon me for not being clothed," he continues. "I wasn't expecting any...oh, my goodness." He stops up short, looking down at your exposed and cringing form. He starts chuckling gently.
The gentleness of the chuckle disarms you a little. It's a warm, paternal sound, and it makes you think of your mother. "D-d-d-d-don't hurt me," you squeak, putting your paws over your eyes and peeping only out at his face through your fingers.
The man smiles fondly and shakes his head. "Oh, I am sorry, Miss," he says fondly. His voice is rich and creamy. It is full and sincere, foaming with compassion, and somehow, it makes you feel safe. "I won't sit down if it upsets you," he reassures you.
You slide your fingers down from your eyes, and you can see his penis hanging loosely, with water streaming down it. It is an elegant goosenecked thing and possibly the only soft part of his body. It swings captivatingly, and your heart flutters in your throat as you feel it mesmerizing you like a serpent. "You can sit," you say weakly.
He does, sitting with one leg propped up on the rock and the other dangling over. As he looks you over, he says goodnaturedly, "That's quite a fine costume you have there, Miss."
You aren't sure what to say to that, so you nod meekly. "Thank you," you say.
He gestures helplessly with his hands. "Well, I have a good reason to be out here naked," he says. "I was on my way to an outdoor bath at my B&B I was staying at, and I was interested in it because it was advertised. I went behind some bushes, and I found myself lost in this jungle."
"You mean you travel?" you say softly. The idea of traveling alone scares you, but the thought that he might travel sounds exciting. You have never left the cozy sanctity of the forest, at least for all that you know.
He nods jovially. "My job has taken me as far as Angkor Wat," he says. "I even learned some Khmer while visiting in Cambodia." He says a sentence in some foreign-sounding language.
You giggle at the sound of it. "That sounded funny," you say girlishly.
"Well, it means 'I lost my bus pass. Do you have any change?'" he claims, chortling. "That was what some drunken man was shouting at me once outside a bar in Phnom Penh. I had to ask someone what he was saying because, for all that I knew, he was a police officer, and I was being arrested! It was my favorite moment there. I can't imagine why it's so funny!" He laughs some more, the lines around his eyes dancing.
You can only giggle with him helplessly, understanding little, in your callow mind, but his own mirth.
"So how did you get here, Miss?" he asks. "Do you live around here?"
You shake your head. "I was brought here," you say. "I don't remember anything...anything..."
He frowns with concern. "It sounds like you were drugged. You poor thing."
"Maybe," you say, dropping your eyes.
"I...I think," he stammers, "I think I might remember the way back to the place I was staying. If you're feeling too drugged to walk, Miss, maybe I ought to...try to carry you. You look very dazed and certainly too dazed to be left on your own, and I am afraid of you getting hurt."
You...