Embed Notice

Whilst Feliz could easily pass as a Kenyan woman cosplaying an elf with cyan-dyed skin—she'd bled copper—Buddy was a whole different can of worms.

He groused, arms crossed. "I hate wearing clothes."

I appreciated he did. A lot.

In West Hollywood, they'd likely appreciate it, too. The last Halloween Carnival I'd attended, before COVID, I'd seen plenty of costumes—and captured willing photos of the same—that would get a person arrested.

Any other time.

Come to think about it, police patrolled the event. He needed clothes. Some people, men and women, didn't agree that no costume was no costume. Buddy didn't understand the concept of clothing, except for a spacesuit. He was Feliz's pilot. He'd obviously never been trained in first contact.

Buddy might get away with going undressed, though. That his "simulated" mammalian parts would appear so detailed as to look functional might not be considered over the top. To some.

Certainly not to me.

Feliz wasn't mammalian, but my sister had been a volleyball player. Her gold prom dress made for an elegant elf.

If Buddy got me and Feliz arrested, it would spark an interstellar incident. Especially, if the non-existent Area 51 got taken out of mothballs. We're humans. It could totally happen. That level of stupidity, I was pretty sure, wouldn't end well for humanity.

I was a big believer in human nature. For example, I understood how hormones worked. Mine were—

I took a deep breath. Buddy was—

My skin burned and I looked away.

This was so stupid. Whilst I suspected the plumbing would work and his "fluids" wouldn't prove corrosive or disgusting—

Okay, I'd kissed him, deeply, explaining it was a type of human greeting.

It had been a peak experience—

—my stupid hormones insisted I would repeat.

One day. Very soon.

Someday, a general would call me to task when first contact actually got made. /"So, you're the idiot who told the aliens that French Kissing was protocol? And you kissed/ him /to demonstrate?"/

I blushed hotly.

I blamed Saturday morning cartoon reruns, anime, and a whole genre of furry alien SF. I wouldn't play the victim card, though. I knew what I wanted, even if foolish.

Buddy...

He was mammalian enough, and I wouldn't get pregnant.

Maybe certain types of evolution just happened. Feliz, if you looked beyond her African features and included what I hid with the dress, resembled a Mosasaur, especially smiling. She adored salmon, raw; a hat handily hid her second set of supracranial nostrils.

Buddy, however...

He noticed my gaze and quirked a feline grin. That he might find an ape that wore clothing attractive in that way, I didn't know. I hadn't asked. I suspected that if I found the nerve to ask, and this time explain what was happening, not scamming my way, I would regret it.

He could go naked. He resembled a snow leopard—white-furred with black spots and hypnotic blue eyes—in a very Star Trek humanoid sense. But, real life wasn't TV. He was anatomically correct.

To my dismay.

Or enjoyment. You choose.

Which meant: Female cats got a rude awakening when they had sex.

I sucked in my lips. That wouldn't be fun. Might actually do more than hurt. I had to Google that ASAP to understand the physiology. No guarantee his... worked that way.

I had to ask.

Clothing. If I could just get him into clothing— "Fuck!"

I started giggling.

I threw aside costume pieces from our family box. Dad had worn this one: A polyester bikini onesie. Red. Yellow plastic utility belt. Yeah, embarrassing to see on your father, but he had worn it over tights. I dug out the gold cape and the black mask.

"Here, put this on."

Buddy crossed his arms again, which I found charming and human.

"Do it!" I ordered, frustrated for /many/ reasons.

He wrinkled his nose. Dangerous and cute at the same time.

I looked pleadingly at Feliz. "If he doesn't wear something, I can't take you guys to the event. You'll learn more about uncensored human interaction there than anywhere else on the planet, and I can totally safely take you there. /Dressed./"

I thanked all that was sacred that his spacesuit had been ripped in the crash. The scar on his arm added verisimilitude.

She gave him /the look/ with bright purple eyes.

He growled, ears lowering.

I had a cat woman suit; I could do justice to the black tights, especially if I didn't wear underwear. Wasn't planning to.

Unless I lost my nerve.

I looked at his bikinis, which barely fit. And bulged. Nicely, too.

Catgirl and Robin. In West Hollywood! Where almost anything went. I wouldn't wear the underwear.

/I was totally taking my camera!/

[3 hrs. Author retains copyright.]

#BoostingIsSharing
#CommentingIsCool

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writever #RSstory #microfiction #shorts #ShortStory #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory