NTR: Stealing wives in Another World
Chapter 12: Consultant

Chapter 12: Consultant

"Okay," Allen muttered, rolling up his imaginary sleeves. "Time to heal a pussy with honor... and possibly lose my dignity forever."

The villagers crowded around like they were watching a sacred ritual. One of them whispered, "Do humans always heal swollen pussies with their tongue?"

Fina snorted. "Nope. Just this one. He’s built different."

Mirka lay on a blanket, legs trembling and eyes squeezed shut. "I swear if this gets worse I’m jumping in the fire pit."

Allen hovered over her with the solemnity of a monk and the expression of a guy who knew exactly how dumb this looked—but also didn’t care anymore.

"Alright. Just... hold still. And try not to crush my head if it feels too good."

Mirka cracked one eye open. "No promises."

He leaned in.

First lick.

shliiiiiick.

Mirka’s body jerked like a possessed squirrel.

"AAAHHH—!"

Fina covered her mouth, giggling. "Yep. That’s his tongue. Weaponized."

Allen paused and raised a finger to the crowd. "Educational moment: When the pussy is swollen from evil leaves, you don’t go in aggressive. You go slow. Gentle. Soft."

He went back in.

Second lick.

"AHHhh~ i-it’s tingling—!"

Allen pulled back, nodding like a professor. "That means the healing is working. Or she’s ascending. Both are fine."

Some girls in the crowd clapped.

"Do it again! That one was majestic!"

Mirka, meanwhile, had her hands over her face. "Why does this feel good?! I just wanted to clean it!"

Allen went in a little deeper, circling his tongue gently around the puffy folds. Her hips bucked.

"Aaahh~! T-that’s the itch spot!"

Allen popped up. "Bingo. That’s the corrupted itch core. Gotta cleanse it thoroughly."

More licking. Slower, longer, deeper.

Mirka gasped, voice cracking. "A-aah~ It’s like you’re—stirring the itch out of me—!"

From the side, a grandma muttered, "He licks better than my ex-husband did in 60 years."

Fina leaned back, arms behind her head. "Told ya. Certified pussy purifier."

Mirka squirmed and moaned, her whole body trembling like jelly. "I-it’s going away... the swelling... the itch..."

Allen pulled back dramatically, glistening lips and all.

"Behold! I have cleansed the cursed cooch."

The villagers burst into applause. Two even started chanting, "Tongue Hero! Tongue Hero!"

Mirka lay there panting, face red as a sunset. "That... was the dumbest and best thing that ever happened to me."

Allen grinned. "Lesson learned: Don’t put murder leaves near your pussy. Class dismissed."

Fina crawled over and licked his cheek. "You’re gonna be so busy from now on, Professor Pussy."

Allen stared at the crowd of hopeful beastkin girls approaching him with sparkly eyes and sticky thighs. He then started the special consultation in the gut.

After a while of consulting the girls, the scent inside the hut was of steamy fur, damp leaves, and questionable morality was thick enough to choke a wyvern.

Allen rubbed his temples as yet another catgirl slid into the hut on all fours like it was some kind of Olympic sport.

"Next!" Fina called out, holding a huge leaf like a clipboard and blocking the door with a fierce glare. "Name, age, and pussy status."

The latest entrant purred, "Name’s Rika. Age, twenty-two. Status? Slightly tingly and neglected."

Allen looked up. "Did you leave your boyfriend outside too?"

She giggled. "Oh, he’s out hunting. I told him it was tribal fertility yoga. I wasn’t lying... I feel more fertile already."

Allen squinted. "This is supposed to be sex ed."

"And we’re learning! I’m learning that your tongue has healing properties," she cooed, sliding her loincloth to the side with a wink.

Behind her, the line was insane—a rainbow of fur: silver, orange, black, brown, spotted, striped. A living buffet of catgirl chaos.

"Where the hell are all your husbands?" Allen muttered.

Fina crossed her arms, grinning like a fox with dirt on everyone. "Some said their man was hunting. Some said sick. One said, ’He’s dumb and I need a real man’s tongue.’ Real educational spirit."

Allen clapped his hands like a teacher trying to calm a horny kindergarten. "Alright, listen up, all of you. This is a sex ed lesson, not a damn spa day. If I hear any girl under eighteen snuck in, I’m shutting this whole thing down."

Fina nodded. "No kittens allowed, got it. We’re adults learning proper pussy care."

Rika moaned softly as Allen used a damp leaf to start a demo. "Aah~ So gentle... is that the circular motion technique you used on Fina?"

Fina beamed like a proud graduate. "Yup. He calls it the Whirlpool Wipe. Changed my life."

The girls started taking notes with sticks on bark like this was an Ivy League course. One leaned in and whispered, "Did he do the swirl-flick too? My sister said that one hits your soul."

Allen blinked. "Wait, who’s your sister?"

"Oh, she was here earlier. Orange tail, big hips. Left here looking like her knees had opinions."

The hut shook with the purrs, gasps, and borderline divine moans.

Outside, a few jealous male catfolk were pacing, confused. One of them whispered, "You think they’re really learning... or is this some kind of tongue cult?"

Another shrugged. "She said she needed ’educational licking’ and slammed the door."

Back inside, Allen sighed. "This is getting out of paw."

Fina handed him a fresh leaf. "Too late. You’re now Professor Pussylicker. Time to educate."

Allen grumbled under his breath but crouched down for the next demonstration. "Okay, Rika, I’m gonna show the proper cleaning angle for under-the-lip buildup. Try not to—"

She moaned. Loudly. "NyaaAAHH~!"

Allen froze. "I said try not to!"

The catgirl behind her gasped. "Is that part of the syllabus?!"

Fina smirked. "It is now."

——

The air inside the hut was thick.

Not with tension—oh no.

With the aroma of flower water, catgirl sweat, and a distinct scent Allen was starting to identify as "things are about to get him killed."

Fina was still at the door, crossing off names on a leaf scroll.

Allen was mid-clean, gently wiping a purring calico girl named Zena, who moaned so hard her toes curled like question marks.

"Aaaah~ right there—like you’re blessing my soul..."

Allen sighed. "It’s leaf cleaning, not divine tongue baptism."

Then—

WHAM!

The hut’s door slammed open like a villain in a stage play, and in stormed the boyfriends.

Fur raised. Fangs out. Abs flexed.

One roared, "WHO IS PUTTING HIS FACE IN MY WIFE’S PUSSY?!"

Another yelled, "ZENA! I LEFT YOU FOR TEN MINUTES TO PEE!"

A third looked so confused he just pointed and whispered, "I don’t even know what’s happening, but I hate it."

Allen blinked, still crouched between thighs. "Uh. Educational demonstration?"

Zena, still purring, raised a paw lazily. "He’s teaching us cleaning techniques. You don’t even wipe, Banno."

"Wipe?! W-WIPE?!" Banno clutched his chest like Allen had stabbed his honor with a sanitary pad.

Fina casually sipped from a fruit shell. "Y’all mad, but none of you taught your girls hygiene. Who was the one rubbing his junk in swamp water, huh?"

The biggest boyfriend, built like a tiger on steroids, growled. "I don’t care what you’re calling it—his tongue was in there!"

Allen stood slowly, leaf in one hand, wet cloth in the other. "Look. It’s not what it looks like."

A girl from the back yelled, "It’s exactly what it looks like, and I’m next!"

Fina clapped. "That’s right, Cherry! Proud of you!"

The chaos reached boiling point.

One husband lunged forward. "YOU LICKED MY WIFE’S—!"

Allen dodged, slipping in a puddle of flower water and somehow landing in a very compromising position between two girls’ thighs. He popped his head up.

"Okay. That looked bad."

Zena sat up and calmly said, "Banno, either you let Allen finish or you learn to clean this yourself."

Banno blinked. "I—I—I don’t know where to start!"

Allen held up a leaf like a priest holding sacred scripture. "That’s the problem. And that’s why we’re here. Today’s lesson is intro to not making your partner itch for three days straight."

One by one, the catgirls started surrounding Allen protectively, fluff tails swaying like a sexy Spartan phalanx.

"You want our tongues clean? Then learn the technique."

"You want less moaning from us? Maybe try listening."

"You want to be mad? Be mad at your own bad hygiene, not the guy helping."

Even Fina stood tall. "Allen’s not just licking—he’s liberating!"

Allen blinked. "...Okay, that was weirdly epic."

The biggest boyfriend looked around, growled... then dropped to one knee.

"Teach me the Way of the Wipe."

The other men stared.

Fina nodded. "First convert achieved."

Allen wiped sweat off his forehead. "Alright. But no tongue work for beginners. We start with basic leaf-water coordination."

He glanced back at the girls and whispered, "Still doing private sessions later, though."

Zena winked. "Oh, we know."

The village square was transformed overnight.

No, not into a battlefield—though it might as well have been.

Allen stood at the front of a crudely drawn diagram on the ground, using a stick to point at a leaf with a suspicious red rash on it. A group of cat-eared men sat cross-legged like children forced to attend summer school.

"First rule of pussy care," Allen declared, "do NOT use mystery leaves."

One guy raised his paw. "What if it looks soft?"

"You looked soft too," Allen shot back, "and your girlfriend still ditched you for a hygiene consult."

The class snickered. Fina, lounging nearby with other girls, purred in amusement. "Oooh, scratch!"

Cherry nudged Zena. "He really teaches with pain and power. No wonder you came twice during leaf demo."

Zena moaned from memory. "Three times."

Banno, sitting in the front row with the defeated aura of a kicked puppy, muttered, "He’s got a demon tongue."

Allen cleared his throat. "Today’s lesson is: *The Wet Wipe Wiggle.* Gentle motion. Firm but not aggressive. You’re not buffing a sword, okay?"

He turned to a basket beside him, pulling out a wooden doll with a very obvious, exaggerated, and... furry lower half.

"This is Practice Puss." Allen patted it with the solemnity of a sacred relic. "You’ll each practice wiping properly. You mess up? You start over. And no tongue—yet. That’s level two."

A muscled ginger catman named Tiko stepped up first. He bent toward the doll like it owed him money and started scrubbing like a lunatic.

Allen smacked him with a stick. "You’re not starting a fire with her labia!"

Fina leaned toward Zena. "He went in like he’s washing a pot."

Zena cackled. "With no soap, no rhythm, and no hope."

Next came Banno. He wiped carefully, shakily.

Allen paused. "Okay. Not bad. A little more finesse and less... funeral."

From the back, one of the wives called out, "That’s the most effort he’s ever put into a pussy!"

Banno snapped, "I DIDN’T KNOW IT NEEDED THIS MUCH CARE!"

Another guy tried using a leaf with jagged edges.

Allen facepalmed. "Sir. That is a cactus. Leave."

The real blow to their egos came during the Evaluation Round.

One by one, the catgirls were brought in.

They sat with legs crossed, arms folded, and judgment in their eyes.

Cherry sat on a crate, watching her boyfriend’s attempt. "He’s... okay, I guess."

"Compared to Allen?" Zena raised an eyebrow. "Honey, Allen cleaned me so well I saw ancestors I’d never met."

Fina chimed in with a cheeky grin. "Allen did this swirl thing with his tongue and I blacked out for three seconds."

One guy snapped. "ARE WE COMPETING WITH A PROFESSIONAL?!"

Allen shrugged, "Not a pro. Just a man raised with wet wipes and guilt."

By the end of the day, there were bruised egos, slightly cleaner techniques, and a village-wide realization that... maybe hygiene *is* hot.

The men trudged off, muttering promises to "do better."

Allen turned to Fina. "Should I be worried they’ll form an alliance to beat me up?"

Fina smirked. "Probably. But at least your tongue will go down in legend."

He blinked. "...I’m okay with that."

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