"You like this, eh?" She grinned.She got the jeans off, my underwear, too, somehow. Then, she handed me astretchy, skin-colored pair of briefs."No panty line," she said. "It's not really a girdle, but it helps theshape."She pulled the tight elastic up; when she had wrestled it most of the wayin place, she plunged her hand in and tugged to push my penis down andback, so fast, I barely felt the burn of scraping."There," she said, running her hand down my now-tilting-backward groin."No lump. No one would ever know."The new jeans she handed me were tighter, but buttoned easier, though Istill had to pull them farther up my stomach than usual. They weredressier, too, with a palm-sized star, outlined in some kind of glitter,on the butt."Nice," she murmured, running her hand, just once, up taut denim on theoutside of my thigh, to my hip and waist. "Fits nice."She unbuttoned my shirt, eased it off. Before I could move, she startedpulling a soft, pale yellow sweater over me. I closed my eyes. We are small at the moment, but we are a powerful tribe.”They arrived at the cave entrance, where Numa was cuddling the boy, still wrapped in furs. He was keening plaintively, “I want my Daddy! I want my Mummy!”“Tompa! My son!” exclaimed Tarka. “Give him to me!” he ordered the strange woman.She glanced at him in disgust. “If you ask nicely, perhaps.” John grinned at this example of his new tribe’s traditions.Tarka stepped back, at this challenge by a woman. John laid a hand on his arm.“Ask nicely, Tarka. In John’s tribe, women are important people.”He smarted at this gentle rebuke, but recognised this was a different tribe. He began again.“May I have my son, young lady?”“Certainly, sir, as you are a gentleman. I am Numa, John’s Chief wife.”“Hello, Numa. I am pleased to meet you ... I think,” he ended tentatively.She giggled, but stood up, the boy in her arms, and offered him to his father. “Tompa, here is your Daddy, come to collect you.”Tarka accepted the bundle, and the child.
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