Tloche leaned against the closed door of her room with relief. Finally, alone. She walked to her wardrobe and pulled out a small turquoise hand towel she was particularly fond of because of its softness. She carefully folded it and put it atop her desk. Then she tenderly extricated Paah-tshoh from the impromptu hammock created by the cloth of her top in the gap between her breasts, and deposited him carefully on the towel, and returned to the door, beside which she had put the small pot with hot water she prepared in the kitchen, lifting it and putting it beside the towel, and also retrieved from her closet a few of the remaining napkins she used to remove makeup. After that, she turned to him.
He’s so tiny! His chest was, to her relief, expanding and contracting with slow breathing motions. He seemed to have been lulled to sleep, exhausted. He was still coated with her juices, now dried and starting to look slightly crusty. She wrinkled her nose. A surprisingly strong mixture of emotions flooded her as she looked at the miniature man. It all came back to her: The exhilaration she felt when she looked at him in her hands for the first time, recognizing him as not an animal but an impossibly tiny human being… how he felt warm and alive as she carried him to her apartment, how her breath caught when he spoke to her in his foreign tongue, how his eyes widened when looking at her chest… his naked body, and especially his lovely penis exposed before her hungry eyes… how she deliberately exposed her nakedness to the tiny man, his little cock rising to the occasion as he stood on her bed looking up, and of course, his struggles inside her womanhood…
She was getting wet again just remembering all that and seeing his body bare before her, again. But the shame she now felt at her unusual tactic to keep him hidden dampened her eagerness. Also, she could not ignore her more recent conversation with her friend. She had to admit Trano made some very good points. She would need to ensure Paah-tshoh would learn Casibare-kem soon, so she could ask him about those things… and more. For now, she would keep him protected, and in her care. She could not believe he was an alien with a nefarious agenda, but it did not hurt to be careful.
Just to be sure, and to avoid any chance of him doing any shenanigans (like summoning an armed drop ship, an airstrike on the boarding house, or a host of killer robots, Gods, if a tiny man can exist why not those?), she had disposed of his clothes and he would remain naked as a jailbird, and hidden. There remained one week until vacations were over, and the next term began. There was time to get better acquainted with the tiny alien (if that is what he was). She would have to think, soon, where and how to keep him so if the army people really came, he was not in danger, and neither was she or her friends…
And afterwards…what? She did not want to dwell on that yet…
Tloche carefully picked the tiny figure with her left hand, sliding her fingers under him instead of pinching him and positioned him on her left palm. She wet one napkin and started to wipe her fluids from his body. He was positively caked in them, she noted with embarrassment, and it was not easy to clean him: his hair in particular required a lot of water and careful wiping.
He’s so fragile! She thought as she handled his head with her fingers while wiping it… I have to be very careful… it would be really easy for me to injure his neck or spine with just a casual squeeze or slapdash turn of my fingers… it’s a wonder he’s not worse off after the… number I did on him… What was I thinking? He could have died! What would I do if I had pulled his lifeless body from inside me? I would have snuffed a person’s life… and then what? Flush him down the toilet? Bury him in the park? What a horrible, casual way to go! Worse than a dog’s death… discarded just as indifferently as one throws away a used, soiled sanitary pad…
She noted his eyes fluttered half-open, but he did not try to resist her. Her breath caught as he said, almost inaudibly in his tiny voice:
“Cantlutloche…” and then he closed his eyes, breathing heavily. She remained there… her hand in her mouth… too overcome to move… why am I being so silly? Shaking her head, she continued working on him. She cleaned his legs and crotch trying to keep the detachment a proper health professional should, spreading his legs and cleaning his soft genitals without lingering there too much. She had to turn him, so he was prone on the towel to clean his back and backside, a smile dimpling her cheeks as she cleaned his tight buttocks. Nice ass… As soon as he was clean, she then examined his left arm. It did not seem to be dislocated after all.
She noted, with mortification, that it was simply that apparently her fingernail had bruised his shoulder, probably when she desperately inserted her fingertips on her vagina to spread herself. He had a nasty welt there, but it did not bleed. She would have to keep her nails trimmed short. Her fingers probed other parts of his body, running her fingertips all over. Everything seemed fine, and he did not flinch from her touch. She also examined his former wound. By now he seemed to have fallen asleep again. His bandage had come off from the moisture of her vagina. It is probably still inside me… the borders of his gash were red and swollen. I hope it does not get infected from being inside me… she did not want to chance giving him any counterinfectants or painkillers, as she could not be sure his biology was exactly… well… human, and she had no idea how to calculate safe dosage. Is he a little too warm? No way to check his temperature reliably...
She prepared another bandage like the one she prepared earlier. She ran into the same problem with his penis, again in the way. This time she was bolder, but when she tried to pinch the fleshy stub between her index and thumb, to lift it, she failed. Looking closer, she saw it was still stuck to his balls by dried vaginal juice. Thinking quickly, she moistened in her mouth her fingertips and carefully rubbed the fleshy knob until it came loose from his tiny ball sac. To her delight, his manhood responded to her touch by throbbing stiff. She reluctantly released it and applied the bandage, as now the way was clear.
After depositing Paah-tshoh back in his towel, she watched, fascinated, how the miniscule manhood slowly grew limp again, laying between his legs. Her fascination grew as she saw how her balls seemingly reacted to being exposed to the air, moving inside his scrotum. Then, his hand descends to his balls and he nonchalantly scratched them… (she barely suppressed a giggle) and then turned to his side and kept napping.
Cantlutloche remained there on her knees, watching the little man sleep atop the towel, atop her desk, for a long time, her thoughts a jumble of wonder, regrets, hopeless fantasies and hesitation, even fear, especially for the future… his and mine... how long can I keep this up wrapped without… bringing disaster on his and my head, and maybe my friends Jablo and Trano?… four lives now depend on me NOT dropping the ball. Then, she pulled on a drawer of her desk, retrieved some oddments from there to make room and afterwards, carefully lowered the towel there, with the little man atop it. She closed the drawer, locked it and hurried out of her room. She needed to go to the kitchen to prepare something to eat for her and Paah-tshoh, and she desperately wanted a shower. For the first time in three years, she locked the door to her room when she left.