Monster Breeder 152. Return to the Human Plains! Part 5

152. Return to the Human Plains! Part 5

“There’s no ribbon to cut, is there?” I ask the Electric Ewe sitting across the desk from . My eyes dart between Ms. Kuku the Henlin, Winny the Goblin Janitor, Grug the Orc, Scag&Ag the two-headed Warg, and Principal Mustang the muscled Minotaur standing to her either side.

“Oh, don’t be silly, sweetie. We run this town; we decide when there’s a ribbon to cut, right, Ms. Secretary?”

“New playground in Doggin Park,” Janine the Hobgoblin Secretary provides without hesitation.

“See, there’s a new playground the Mayor can open to the public, and he’s out of our hair for a few hours. Now, Alex, care to explain what this is all about?”

“No, no, no,” I object, “I need so explanation first. What is going on? Why are you in the Mayor’s seat? Is this a shadow-governnt thing?”

Mrs. Fleece snerks nasally laughter at my last question. “Really, Alex? ‘Shadow-governnt?’ You make it sound so nefarious.”

“And it’s not?” I ask, hopefully. Julia leans into Jenny, who puts her arms around her partner as the two of them listen in helpless confusion.

*Squeaky~* *Squeaky~* *Squeaky~*

“Winny! Enough,” Mrs. Fleeces says with a glare at the OCD Goblin girl rubbing at a mysterious stain on the desk left by the Mayor and his playmate with a rag, clearly stressed to exasperation by the current situation.

“…Sorry,” Winny apologizes after she finishes up and tucks away the rag.

Book of Monsters Entry – Goblin Janitor: Dosticated Goblinoid monster. 2nd Tier, likely Promoted, below-average Rank. Often found equipped with a mop. Innate ‘staff’ proficiency in combat. Contrary to typical Goblin ssiness, this evolution obsessively cleans their surroundings. Anecdotally evolves once a previously pristine artificial environnt is despoiled in their presence. Improved endurance, stamina compared to a base Hob.

The Electric Ewe sighs. “The truth is much more banal and organic than anything conspiratorial. This state of affairs wasn’t planned or organized. It simply happened gradually over the generations. See, back when the last survivors of free humanity gathered together, ford the Association, and started dosticating monsters, a fundantal shift occurred. ‘If you can’t beat them, join them,’ rember? Humanity as a species went from warriors and engineers to Tars and Breeders. And they were very good at their new jobs. Too good. The thing is, when breeding monsters, you can’t help getting bred yourself."

My eyes widen as I listen to Mrs. Fleece, feeling every ounce of that truth as I consider all my pregnant won and all the conceptions I initially 'mothered' before passing them along to surrogates.

She continues, “Our monster ancestors started as Humanity’s defenders, the stalwart shields against Feral Incursions, but we evolved to take a larger roll. We replaced the plowhorse and then the farr as 'husbanding' livestock beca more literal. Doggins made better guards and police. Orcs and Wargs made better warriors. Goblin Janitors and Hobgoblin Secretaries… you get the idea. But Humanity didn’t breed themselves to obsolescence. On the contrary, Humanity excelled in one key skill that held everything together.”

““Sex,”” Jenny, Julia, and I say in unison, as the last part of this narrative had been hamred ho into our skulls during our Association training.

“Exactly! Full marks for each of you girls, I’m so proud!” Mrs. Fleece cheers. “So, you see, there was no plot, no sche to assu control. While the Mayorship didn’t start as a ceremonial position, the previous stewards of the role have been delegating more and more of their responsibilities to their monstrous assistants for hundreds of years. My predecessor told how relieved the current Mayor was when he took office and she explained all he had to do was chase his Secretary’s tail, cut ribbons when the need arose, and kiss lots of babies.

I blanch at these revelations, “But… why didn’t my parents tell ?”

“Perhaps you should ask them yourself,” Mrs. Fleece says as she hits a button under the desk that triggers a chanical buzzer outside.

The doors open to reveal…

“Mom, Dad!”

“Is dat my little gurl!?! Alex!” My mom crushes in a massive hug. She’s an orc woman, seven feet of pure muscle towering over with green skin, tusks, huge tits, and an even bigger heart. Well, she doesn't tower over anymore, actually. She releases and frowns in bemused consternation while staring into my eyes without having to incline her head. “You got tall.”

I laugh as my father embraces as well. “And here I thought for sure you’d stopped growing years ago!” He’s five foot four, a bit soft around the edges, but a sweet man and straight as an arrow.

Tears fall freely as I cry into my mother’s shoulder with sudden ferocity, “I’m back.” Jenny and Julia shed tears while holding one another as my parents pat my shoulders and let work the hosickness out of my system. There’s not a dry eye in the room, though Grug, Scag, and Ag pretend to be made of stone. When my shuddering breaths subside, I ask while gesturing at the supposed ‘Town Council,’ “Why didn’t you tell about all this?”

Mom looks guilty, but dad puts a calming hand on her elbow, “Let , dear.” Then he reaches for my face, and I kneel to let him take in his tender, loving palms. “Darling, it’s not a secret anybody withheld from you. Look around town and think about the kinds of jobs humans and monsters have. Did it ever make sense a human Mayor would be anything but a… a mascot? There are facts of life that everyone realizes eventually as they grow older. You’re ready to know when you figure it out. Like the fact Sandy Claws the Nickle Saint isn’t real, or the God Beasts.”

“The God Beasts aren’t real!?!” I shout.

“Alex, sweetie, don’t be naïve,” Mrs. Fleece answers, “There are giant monsters the size of buildings, sure, we see them in the distance from ti to ti. But the legends of the God Beasts are ancient, and their powers apocalyptic. How could they possibly have existed for millennia without having destroyed the world by now? Either they’re not real, or they’re not as godly as the stories say. That’s plain logic.”

“Then why teach us about them in school?” Jenny asks, just as frustrated with the situation as , “Why this whole farce with the Association and human history if we’re no better than livestock for Breeding?”

Mrs. Fleece stands, rounds the desk, and tries to hug Jenny, but the green-eyed girl swats the Electric Ewe’s arms away. The matronly educator seems genuinely hurt by the refusal. “That’s not true, girls, and you know it. I’m sorry you learned the truth too soon, and it hurt you. But Jenny, Julia, Alex, please understand I love you and all my students like my own sons and daughters—in a sexy way, admittedly, but still—we want the best for you. We want you to be safe and happy and fulfilled. Teaching you about humanity’s history, the Association licenses, the years of training, it’s all to help you make sense of the world we live in and feel like you can make a difference.”

“Is that why you let go out on the Plains to play at being a Tar even though everyone thought it was suicide?” I say while glaring at Mrs. Fleece.

My mom puts her green-skinned hand on my shoulder and says, “Girl, lettin you go was da hardest thing I ever don.” Dad holds my hand to second that sentint.

“There are no prisoners here, Alex,” Mrs. Fleece says, “You aren’t even the first Tar to have a successful run in recent mory. There’s one every generation or so.”

Sothing clicks in my mind. “Tad monsters bring new blood into the community, while the failed Tars serve as a cautionary tale that keeps the Breeders in line. You have everything to gain.”

Mrs. Fleece shakes her head. “Alex, please let go of this victim narrative. We are dosticated monsters; our humans an the world to us. You’ve known us all your life, so tell when have we ever given you cause to suspect hidden malice? Think for a mont—we live to serve! Protecting the town, growing crops, producing eggs, milk, and wool from our own bodies to feed and clothe you, we do it all for the sake of our humans.” Her pleading gaze leaps from to Jenny, to Julia, and then back to . “And just look at you, Alex. You’re a miracle! A girl born human who bridges the divide to beco a monster—the perfect leader for our community.”

I do a doubletake. “What? You want to… but what about puppeteering the Mayor and controlling the human population?”

She huffs, and the Town Council looks indignant. “I’ll remind you my husband and son are human. You think I want my own precious flesh-and-blood offspring to suffer? No! I want him to be happy, to thrive! We are dosticated monsters; the things we’ve done were all by necessity to survive. Keeping everyone fed and safe from predation takes up all our skills and resources. We continue to teach each generation about democracy and everything we rember about the ancient human Enlightennt because our human mothers helped us understand why those ideas are good and important.

“This is the last free human town in the world. Here we kindle the final remaining spark of humanity’s past greatness until future generations are able to take up the torch once again. And, Alex, I believe you are the catalyst to reignite us. Please believe and all the other dosticated monsters when I say we want you as our leader.”