If one were capable of recognizing the naked man wandering the streets as Henry Nashton, and were to speak honestly: No one who knew him would be surprised he cheated on his fiancee. They would describe Henry as the platonic ideal of the Alpha Male Dude Bro who was raised with too much money, not enough consequence, and who believed that women were all literally interchangeable skins on a toy for his sole pleasure. He was the type of person that, if the Wishing Stone was a thinking being and of the personality known to djinn’s, would love to grant his wishes in the small subtle ways that would turn him into exactly what he derided.
And unfortunately for Henry, the wish he was currently cursed by loved (in a way only an unthinking machine can) to take down people in karmically fitting ways.
As Henry approached the DeNero house, their dog Princess began to sniff at the front door, which opened towards her. “Grrr.” The labrabeagle growled at the entity that had entered her home, but wouldn’t attack. Animal’s are well known of be sensitive to paranormal things in a way humans never are. But still Princess would not attack, whether from left over acknowledgement of the punishment and recognition of a fellow victim, or because the magic demanded no harm would come to them is best left up to debate in the same way fungus is.
Jo had just brought a box into the basement filled with costumes, none of which actually labeled for her, sent over by the studio. They wanted her to see what roles she might be willing to do, so sent samples. “Of course they didn’t send everything. Just pieces and stock photos from Halloween costumes with minor photoshop.” She sighed and laid them out on the basement den couch:
- A silver swimsuit and green headband with springs and balls, even a small vile of deep ocean green face paint. An alien picture.
- A sheer, black nightie drussed up with an apron. A classic submissive maid.
- A silk bellydancer hip scarf and transparent face shawl. The slave girl fantasy.
Jo looked over the options and mulled them over when her cell rang. “Ray? What’s wrong? They called to ask you if I brought the costumes home? Why didn’t they call me?” She wandered up the stairs and never noticed the naked man passing her by. Henry slipped on the silver swimsuit and put the headband in his hair, then emptied the vial of pain over his face.
His skin altered as he puts on the nightie, which was tied down by the hip skirt. As she put the shawl, H’nrne-Ukka jumped in surprise as she saw that her skin was its normal green and felt her antennae were in the open. “-nd you can tell them Ray that our…house guest, does not need another job right now. And they should call me when they want to ask me something!” She hung up and looked at H’nrne as she sucked in her antennae and altered her skin tone to match Jo’s. “You let it slip again?”
H’nrne prostrated herself on the floor. “Desired-Forgiveness, Arwen Joy-Milf! Thought-lack upon ukka! Empty-Alone ukka was, Arwen!”
Jo pinched the bridge of her nose. Why did she, a pornstar, have to be the one to prove aliens were real. From what she had been able to piece together, H’nrne was some sort of slave caste and had imprinted on Jo as her mistress. Really, goddess from the little context the DeNero’s had been able to pull, like teeth, out of the alien. They had figured that ‘Arwen’ was some sort of gender neutral term for deity. Or was the name of the deity and she believed Jo was them.
Honestly it was only because Jennifer and Ray watched Star Trek that they got that at all. H’nrne seemed to be a species that either lacked context when speaking. Or had another way to express it. She lost track when something about ‘Tell a gruh’ or whatever her husband and daughter were talking about.
“I’m not upset Henri.” Jo said as she pulled her guest off the floor. “I just need you to be careful. Other humans wouldn’t be as nice as me.”
Henri pulled Jo to her face and made out with her, pulling Jo’s hands to her breasts. Jo let this fairly regular ritual go on, and of course enjoyed it, before pushing the alien away. Henri was an ‘ukka’, they must pleasure all they see unless they are claimed. Henri seems to consider herself claimed by Jo as she didn’t treat Ray or Jennifer that way unless Jo ordered it.
Plus there was that… name thing. Ray had somehow convinced her that Joy Beaver was who she was. Or that she had multiple names. She didn’t seem to understand the concept of fiction. Plus she somehow conflated Milf with ‘special mother’ if Jennifer’s guesses were right.
Needless to say, the DeNero’s had made sure Henri acted mute and had amnesia if there was any chance of someone not in the know would be around. She acted as maid, cook, sex slave, and nanny for the family. Because of course Jo and Ray used her, Henri expected it and she was… so hot.
“Arwen Joy-milf leak-birth.” Henri licked around the stains on Jo’s shirt.
“Mmm. Enough of that Henri.” The slave backed away demurely. “Let’s go see if Jackie might be hungry. Otherwise…” Jo leered at the alien. “I’ll need some relief.” She hefted the sides of her boobs and went upstairs, followed by Henri. “And please make sure your clothes are appropriate.”
Henri bowed her head and her clothes altered to a casual, human outfit appropriate for someone in their mid-to-late twenties.
+++
Meanwhile, many people were also looking for lives…
