Arrival and introduction to your new life

The journey to the wug's village is long. You follow behind your new master, your head low and your stride awkward because of the ropes that bind you and chafe between your thighs. When you stumble and fall the wug pauses and pulls insistently at the rope collar around your throat until you rise to your feet and follow once more. Along the way your mind drifts to memories of your quest and your life as a farm girl.

Each time you feel the need to break free from your ropes your fear and anger are dulled by the warmth filling your belly and radiating through your womb. The wug's seed is indeed a potent elixir and you are at its mercy.

You arrive suddenly at the wug's village, so well is it hidden in the jungle. A collection of small yurts and longer thatch-roofed huts lay along side a slow-flowing river, its banks choked with roots. A singularly long and large building sits atop a hill. It is covered in painted symbols. Strange sounds, of pleasure and pain, of liquid being pumped, drift from its walls.

There is a swampy foulness to the air in the village and the appearance of many wugs fills you with such fear that you almost overcome the aphrodisiac influence of the wug's seed. You are quickly surrounded by wugs, some dressed in elaborate headwear, others brandishing weapons. They grab at your naked body and fondle your breasts. The leaders communicate with your captor in a croaking language. It seems there is some disagreement about what to do with you. The wug with the largest headdress gestures to the big building atop the hill. Your captor refuses and, after a long argument, is allowed to continue on into the village to one of the thatch-roofed buildings.

He passes through the leather hung over the doorway and you enter a hot, dark room. As your eyes adjust you see another wug approach from the darkness and embrace your captor. This wug is nude - though the wugs hide their sex - but its froggy face is decorated with tribal paint. Your captor caresses this wug for some time and they croak back and forth. You hang your head and stand submissively beside your captor.

The wugs become quiet and this other wug, who you have gathered to be your captor's mate, approaches you. She croaks at you in their language and runs her cold hands down your back. She cups your pubis and you gasp as a clawed finger slides inside and gathers the sticky cum spilled out from your pussy. The wug seems to inspect you, grasping your buttocks, squeezing your breasts and pulling on your nipples, and even opening your mouth to inspect your teeth.

"My mate finds you a pleasing choice for our ash'a'ro," he says. "Our last was not so comely or ripe. You will be midwife to many broods."

"Th-thank you," you can hardly believe you are saying it.

"We will take you to a place where you can rest," says your captor. "The journey has tired us both and you will need to regain your strength before your duty as ash'a'ro begins."

You are pulled into a corridor walled by leathers pulled taut over framework. Something about these particular leathers disturbs you. They are soft when you brush against them and someone has decorated them with oddly human artworks.

"You admire the ash'a'ro sha'a?" says the wug, stopping as you inspect the leather. "When the last feast of the ash'a'ro comes we honor them by preserving their hide. I can see you are afraid, but do not be. We do not kill. We only honor devotion to our family."

Despite the wug's reassurance you are made terribly afraid by the grisly memorial. Nevertheless, the lingering effects of the wug's seed compel you to follow obediently behind him as he enters the adjoining hut. You are surprised by the design of the small chamber. It is clearly ceremonial, with carved wood and bone idols depicting humans and wugs locked in carnal embraces and brass torches surrounding a pit filled with murky liquid.

An altar of smooth, cool stone rests in the middle of the liquid. Chiseled into the shape of a wug, it is too short to hold an entire person, but a person could bend over it. You imagine how the carved arms of the wug would hold your own arms out and the downward slope of the stone would mean your head would be low and your ass and fertile slit would be exposed.

Beside the pool there is a small straw bed and a pair of buckets.

"Do not drink this water," warns the wug, gesturing to the pit. "I will bring you fresh water. This is birthing water and will make you weak with sickness. Then you will have rest and sleep and I will bring you sweet milk to sustain you."

"Sweet milk?" you ask.

"Yes, produced in the Tov'at'ai, the barn you might call it, where the humans such as you provide for the whole village. You will enjoy much greater comfort so long as you are good to me and my mate."

The wug brings you water and loosens, but does not remove, your bindings. You are left alone in the dim tent, staring at the pit filled with brackish water and wondering about your future life. Perhaps you should seek to escape? The news that there are other humans in the village gives you some hope. You feel the effects of the wug's seed slackening. Now, as night arrives, as your strength and willpower are regained, might be your best opportunity to escape.