The Human Pet: A Sci-Fi Romance

Part 4

Kayla

My owner's name is Tarak, or that's what one of the other scourges called him before Tarak slammed him into a wall.

I'm exhausted, probably from all the loudness (the scourges are huge and stomp down corridors), and my master, Tarak, is the loudest of them all. There is the constant humiliation of walking around on a leash like a dog. Sometimes some of the strange scourges try to touch me and... That scares me.

So, when my master leads me into a room that looks like someone's apartment with a chair, a desk, and a bed, I hope this is his living quarters because I need a break from the many scourges I've encountered.

Although now I have a new fear. Will Tarak hurt me?

Tarak takes the leash off my collar, but he immediately sits down at the desk, ignoring me.

I exhale slowly, not even realizing that I had been holding my breath.

He claps his hands together. Colorful pixels flicker on the walls around him and then a voice comes from the wall. I think it is some sort of computer and I'm amazed. Why couldn't we have built a computer system into a wall? It seems more efficient. He seems occupied with one section of a wall, speaking as glyphs fly across the screen. Reports he's filling out, maybe?

What information might I find on the computer of a starship like this? Suddenly, I have a new desire. I want to explore this computer system.

Take a deep breath, Kayla. I do and make myself focus on the now. Okay, maybe I can't play with this computer right now, but maybe if I watch and study... Well, one never knows when an opportunity might present itself. So, I stay silent, curled in the corner with a blanket Tarak has placed on the floor for me. I watch everything.

After what feels like a few hours Tarak clips the leash to my collar again.

"Kata," he says. Then he tugs on the leash, and a slight pressure builds on my neck. Is he trying to teach me the command 'come'?

I would rather stay in the room while he goes and does whatever it is that aliens like Tarak do. This also offends me that he expects me to follow him like a dog, so I pretend to look about as if no one has spoken.

"Kata," he says, pulling on the leash yet again.

I gaze at a spot on the wall as if whatever is on it is so interesting. I'm tempted to make noises at the spot on the wall like dogs or cats sometimes do but I don't want to be too over the top because then he will know I am pretending not to understand, so blank gaze it is.

He crouches down, his eyes fixed on me. I find that a bit uncomfortable, so I start to back away from him, but his movement is sudden. He grabs a lock of my hair and pulls.

"Ow!" It's like I'm a doll or a puppet because he yanks my hair and I'm forced to move my head wherever he wants, which right now is to look into his face.

"Kata," he says, pulling on the leash. This time it's only a gentle tug, but there is still a light pressure on my neck.

I blink rapidly to get the tears out of my eyes because my scalp stings and this is humiliating.

He lets go of my hair and for a few minutes, says nothing.

Don't cry, don't cry.

He lowers his hand, but this time he's gentle and rubs the top of my head.

Then he lets go of the leash and stands a few feet away from me, near the metal door. "Kata."

I'm tired, and I don't want to have my chain yanked or my hair pulled, so I go to the door where he stands.

A deep rumbling sound comes from him, and he sinks his hand into my hair.

He is praising me and oh, I want this. I lean against his hand, encouraging him to run his big fingers through my hair. Another rumbling sound comes from him, and he gazes at me with his darkened eyes. Then he kisses the top of my head and withdraws his hand. I paw at his hand, bumping against it because I don't want him to stop.

What has come over me? Why do I suddenly need his praise and approval, like I'm some sort of dog?

No, I need this. More praise and love and-

What am I doing? I'm not a pet, bought with a gentle touch. Might this be a sign that I am developing Stockholm syndrome?

So, when Tarak forms his hand into a fist and the metal door opens, I pull away from him and run down the hallway. My faithful scourge isn't far behind, holding onto the leash and running behind me.

*****************Author's notes*************************

I'm just curious. Do we think Kayla is developing Stockholm syndrome or is something else going on?

Also, if you are still reading along, updates will be Saturday and Sunday.