Oochie and Me

"So, today's the day," Della told me one morning as we ate our breakfast. I say breakfast because it came in a dry dog food sack on which surface printing guaranteed balanced nutrition. We made a slurry from it and ate when the lights came on to wake us from sleep, then again just before sleep time.

"My Oochie expulsion?"

"Right. Or if you prefer, Oochie birth."

I wondered if I should eat, or not. Last thing I wanted was to embarrass my Oochie by throwing up my dog food breakfast as I labored to push it out during its first Oochie birth from inside me.

"You should do okay," Della said. "My first time was pretty easy."

Easy, I thought, then looked at my belly, then fingered my pussy. All that huge bulge was going to come out between my legs?

Della took me back to my sleeping area, then strapped me down. Head, chest, hips upper legs, and lower legs. "No sense you getting loose and accidentally hurting yourself."

Way I figured it, the hurting myself was going to come from that alien inside me when it took it upon itself to force its way out of me.

"Ready"

I nodded and she stuck the needle in my ass—my hip actually.

"That will soften up your bones and help you relax. In fifteen minutes, I'll give you something to start the contractions, so in a half hour, you'll either be grunting your heart out straining, or you'll already have your adolescent Oochie to hold to your chest and let him suckle in your arms. Sound like fun?"

Again, I nodded, although I had little clue what I was in for.

An hour later, I felt like my middle had expanded double its size, and the hole in my pelvis with it. But still no Oochie, only its tentacles. The one with the eye kept looking at me, the two with suction cups wrapped themselves around my knees and tried to help by pulling, the pooper pushed against the underside of my chin or anything else it could find, and the short-thick one reached inside my ass and tried to apply helpful pressure from inside there

As my strength began to wane, Della gave me a huge shot of that contraction enhancing stuff, and with a gentle tap on my shoulder, said, "This is it. Get ready. Here it comes."

God, I hoped so. I hurt all over, I needed more strength than I had, and I feared I'd once again let my Oochie down.

This one hit and hit hard, but didn't subside like before. I gasped, choked, and gasped again, trying to get enough air. I felt my Oochie trying to help, his sucking tentacles pulling my insides toward my knees, the one up my ass ramming a fist around inside me like I'd envisioned a washing machine agitator might feel, and the poop tentacle pressing hard against my chin. Slowly, ever so slowly, I felt a change.

"Coming, Mary-Jane. Stick with it. Your Oochie is coming out. You're having a Oochie, Honey. It's beautiful." She started to cry, just as if I were squeezing out a human baby.

But still the push kept on. I knew I had to make it, I must not succumb to the faintness stalking me. I wiggled my hips, thinking that might help. But still the pain of the contraction held on. I jerked my buttocks off the table and slammed it back down.

"Oh, don't do that, Honey!" Della said. "You might hurt your Oochie's anal tentacle."

"Sorry, Della," I said in a strangled gasp. "Sorry, Mister Oochie."

A communication sensation from Oochie said not to worry, so I didn't. But I didn't go ramming my ass around anymore, either.

Then, just that quickly, it was over and I had my Oochie on my now deflated belly with its head—was that the head where the tentacles connected like those of a sea squid?—up between my breasts, a suction tentacle on each breast, the waste tentacle stuffed into my mouth, and the ass tentacle rubbing my clit so hard I came in spite of my exhausted condition.

Is this what human motherhood feels like? I guessed I'd never know.

But then Della gave me the schedule: Every other day, I'd bear my Oochie again, often enough so my bones never contracted back to little girl dimensions. And as my Oochie grew, my poor pussy would stretch to match. And my anus some too, I expected.

For the few hours my Oochie was out, the speculum gizzmo would hold me open and keep the pressure on. With my darling Oochie in my arms like a child, I was free to do whatever it wanted. Walk, run, jog, anything a nineteen year old human female might want to do.

Sometimes in place of the speculum, I sat on a bench with a Oochie-sized dildo up my pussy so far I could hardly breathe. Sometimes I sat on the same bench but with a four inch dildo up my ass so far it made bulges in my belly. Time goes so quickly when you feel as wonderful as I did. The pain had been worth it, and would be again in two days and six months of every other day after that.

How can you love an alien? How can you find the greatest pleasure a girl could ever experience, but find it so far away from everything you ever thought you wanted?

Come on, Oochie. Time to go home. Your mamma wants you back inside her. She wants to feel you squirm around as you get comfortable. She wants you to nurse on her so hard her nipples feel like you will wear them right down to spots on her boob spheres. She wants you up her ass so far the tip of your tentacle feels like it's pressing against her heart. She wants to suck your waste tentacle until it's completely empty and then swallow it until she passes out from lack of air. I love you, Oochie. What more can I do for you?

The reply sensation said. "Oochies don't know love, but this one wishes it did."

I wished it did, too.

I helped it back inside me, all the time wondering if when coming out, it had made itself bigger than when I put it back in. Oh, well. I may never know, but I do know I'm going to love it every time I push it out and feel it lying on me, suckling from me, and using it's other two tentacles in such pleasant ways.

**5***

"Well, Mary-Jane, tomorrow is the big day!"

I'd heard other 'Oochie homes' mention this when mine took me out for social times with other Oochies, but really, I had little understanding what would go on.

So I asked Della.

"It's like the Super Bowl of Oochie games—or maybe the Olympics, if you look at it that way."

Well, that didn't help much. Why had my Oochie demanded so much exercise lately, like nearly driving me to collapse with exhaustion?

I shook my head.

"It's a big game day: Foot races, a ball game like singles tennis, another ball game like one-on-one soccer, weight lifting, one-on-one volleyball, even hurdle runs and broad jumps. Your Oochie drives you, your body performs the motions demanded."

"What do I do?"

"Simple. You just manage your body so you don't run out of air and energy when your Oochie needs it most."

"What if I can't?"

"You want to disappoint your Oochie?"

Of course my answer was a firm no, but what if I failed?

Oochie sensed I'd thought this, and sent me back a sense that said, "You won't. I won't let you. But be warned: You tend to get a bit lazy sometimes, and when you do that, I'll drive you until you collapse."

I understood that. And I knew from the past several months how near collapse my Oochie could demand.

With that, it started me on my exercise for today. "Better to exercise early today, then rest up for the games tomorrow," it said. I hoped it was right!

Della and her Oochie watched, and I learned Oochies, at least adolescent ones, don't know everything about sports. She and her Oochie coached me on how to carry myself so when I ran, my breasts didn't bounce around so much and get sore. Having my Oochie keep them sucked dry helped a lot.

Having my anus empty helped, too. Having my Oochie's short-big one in my ass helped by keeping my anus plugged up tight so I didn't have to worry about letting slip and embarrassing myself and my Oochie. Ooh, I'd hate that, and besides, it felt good having my ass shoved so full of Oochie I wondered what it would feel like to have an elephant's dick shoved in there.

Of course, for the past several months my Oochie'd had me practicing running, turning, jumping on my toe boots with their twelve inch extensions, so just doing more of that helped me prepare. But, oh, god, I was sore and tired by the end of my exercise. I wondered if I'd be able to walk at all when the time came tomorrow. But my Oochie sent me a wonderfully gentle sense, complimenting me on my performance and likelihood of helping it win a few of the contests. I fell asleep with a smile on my face, and an Oochie short-big one vigorously massaging my clit. Can't beat that!

There must have been a thousand Oochie homes in the contestant's line-up to get into the games. The other thirty-six thousand swarmed around the earthen banked circumference of the play field. The non-contestants varied from so young I wondered if the Oochies had under-shot on their age selection, to gray-haired women who probably would be retired shortly. But then again, maybe Oochies were a little sentimental after all, and might keep an aging home around, even after she no longer provided as comfortable a living space as earlier.

I had to ask about the animals, though. I saw several dozen horses all fancied up in parade harness pulling a beer-cart looking sort of wagon, a dozen more donkeys or mules pulling another wagon, and even a pair of Holstein cows with their udders nearly dragging the ground.

When I asked Della, all she'd say was, "A few years back the Oochies experienced a shortage of human females, so they tried other animals."

"Ugh! How could they?"

"It didn't really work out well, as you can see, but a few hang on. There's more Oochie space inside them so more comfort, as you can probably expect. Some big shot Oochies keep them for prestige. You can hold a four-Oochie meeting in a good sized horse, maybe five or six."

I just shuddered.

My Oochie gave me a sense to follow the contestant crowd into the play space arena. Well, the time had come. I held Della's hand just for assurance.

"You and your Oochie will do just fine.," she said. "This is sooo much fun, I look forward to it all year, every year."

I was a lot less sure. Mostly my apprehension centered about the trade-out contests, for which Della's Oochie and mine would trade homes for the competition. God, could I read her Oochie's senses fast enough and accurately enough so I didn't embarrass it?

My Oochie won a dozen or so of the straight-on contests, which made me feel really good. My qualms about the trade-out games proved I needed more practice with Della's Oochie, but at least I didn't make a fool of myself and Della's ooche.

Although I doubt it was official, Della's Oochie and mine gave us little trophies for our part in each of their victories. I got a ball-end ring for each corner of my mouth, one for each nostril flare and one for the middle of my nose. I dithered about the two heavier rings with hanging chains, but finally had Della pierce them through my eyebrows centered over my eyes. I thought they looked sexy, even if only other girls like me and Della saw them.

My Oochie decided it was time to split my tongue, then cross pierce it. So it gave me a heavy bar for that, as well as a pair of ball-end rings for each side of my tongue.

When we returned home, Della dug out all her past trophies and put them in. When she said she looked forward to these games all year, she hadn't been kidding. Her face looked like a piercing hardware catalog.

But the pieces she seemed most proud of were the heavy ring for her clit and the two nipple-stretchers. I now knew why her nipples were so generous.

I found myself anticipating next year's games. I really wanted one of those heavy clit rings and a pair of nipple stretchers like hers! I could barely wait to show them off for my Oochie.

**5**

The bad news arrived, the only communication I ever got from home in the eight plus years since the Oochies made me part of their deal for financing Daddy's healthcare. But now, no more Daddy.

My Oochie was full grown now, of course, and so were my tits and my belly. It sensed my situation without my ever actually trying to get a concession from it. I hopped the first light-lift, Oochie and all, and six months later, I was home.

Of course Momma was glad to seem me—she expected they'd never let me come home, that was part of the original deal—and fully understood what I was and how I got that way. Also, it was great to have a mother who understood my choices. We went to the cemetery, placed a tin of flowers on Daddy's grave, said a few prayers, followed by my version of an obituary. Then we sat and had a long talk about things I'd wondered about for a long time.

By long talk, I mean maybe an Earth hour. By then my Oochie was losing patience, being asexual and not understanding this affection between animals of different sexes, and wanted action. By action, it meant to get acquainted with the Oochie in Mamma's belly. It couldn't do that where we were in the cemetery, obviously, and it understood. So back we went to Mom's house.

We both stripped off our empire length skirts and our tops, and got ready for whatever our Oochies might decide. I took Daddy's side of the bed on my back, Momma her regular side. In a few seconds my belly began to churn, so I knew my Oochie would be coming out soon. I expected no discomfort, it and I had progressed beyond that. First, the eye came out for a look-around. Then the rest.

Momma must not have had her Oochie out for some time because she strained, grunted, and groaned a lot before it came out. But finally she succeeded, and I could tell she enjoyed the endeavor. They told us to hold each other close together, and once we did, the Oochies crawled all over us, the whole scenario being like a massage with a lot of tentacle poking in our mouths and asses. Then it started.

One tentacle from each Oochie found our clits and began sucking them so hard I thought mine would turn inside out. At first, my clit, sucked by Momma's Oochie's tentacle. Meanwhile, her Oochie's other suction tentacle took up duty vacuum-cleaning my pussy, and mine to hers. I never did figure out whose waste tentacle went down whose throat, but it mattered not, just as which anal short-big tentacle went into whose ass.

Maybe it was a case of those communications sensations making the difference. Maybe those Oochies were talking between themselves in ways that us dumb humans could never understand. But as the saying goes, they got it right. Momma climaxed first, and just couldn't seem to climb down off her mountain. I wasn't far behind. Oh, if human sex partners could do that to a woman!

Five hours later, exhaustion set in, and we lay there, the bed soaked with sweat, milk, and pussy juice. Let me repeat that: SOAKED! And not just in the center! I didn't even have strength to say oh, god at the end of my last little hump up and over the climax summit. Mom just moaned something incomprehensible and curled up in a ball so tight her Oochie had to spread her legs to get back in.

As my Oochie crawled back into my pussy, I swear that eye on his tentacle smiled at me. I made sure my best effort at a communication sensation said thanks. Thanks from me, and thanks from Momma, and thanks for helping Daddy.

It's reply was: I want you back where you belong. Please bring your mother. Her Oochie will allow that if you ask her, but it doesn't want to force her into something she may not like.

I sensed back: You guys—if you were guys—are really thoughtful. Thanks so much.

Their reply was: We know a good pussy-home when we're inside it, a good ass when we stick ourselves into it, wonderful mouths when we have our waste outlets being sucked clean, and tasty milk when we suck the greatest tits in the world. Is that what humans call love?

No. Love is sharing that with another: Me, Momma, and both you guys. I like the forever part, too. Can we make our situation permanent when we get back to wherever you live?

The warm sense that swamped my body said yes better than any human guy could ever say I love you with his dick buried to the hilt up inside you. Or so I'd heard.