Cautionary Tales (19 page)

Then, remaining embedded, he hugged her close and kissed her scarf. In that moment, he loved her a little. He had done it, and she hadn't killed him. “Thanks!”

“Mmmm.”

His diminishing penis dropped out. “Here's a detail,” he said. “I put some fluid into you. It won't make you pregnant, but it has to be cleaned up. Not allowed to drip on the floor.”

She withdrew from his embrace, dropped to fours, then lay all the way down. She curled her torso around, removed the scarf, and put her mouth to her cleft. She had no tongue; she simply sucked it in. Then her tentacles wiped up the remaining spill and fed it into the mouth orifice.

“But we were about to learn to walk,” he said as she concluded. “To see if you can do it well enough to pass, if I support you.”

She climbed back to her hind feet. He put his arm around her narrow waist and held her close against him. “Now I will step forward. Can you match me?”

“Mmmm.”

He took the step, and she matched him. She had good coordination; she just wasn't used to walking this way on her own. He took another, and she matched him again.

Then he tried letting her do it alone. She was unable to maintain her balance.

“Try it along the bars,” he said.

She went to the bars, rose, and walked, holding on. She was doing it. But when she let go, she lost it. Human beings had taken tens or hundreds of thousands of years to learn to balance well enough; it was hardly surprising that she could not manage it in minutes. She could change her form, not her nature.

“Okay, you can do it with help, of whatever kind,” he said. “But you won't have things to hold on to everywhere, and you will look clumsy regardless. Maybe I can get a wheelchair, and say you're ill or recovering from a leg injury.”

“Mmmm?”

“Wheel chair,” he repeated carefully. “A chair with big wheels, and you turn them by hand and go where you want. I'll bring one in tomorrow. Meanwhile, the big one: we need to get you with a human face. Your tentacles can model hair, maybe. But those three eyes and lack of a nose are a problem.”

They worked on it, and found a compromise: her third eye descended to where a human nose would be, its iris imitating nostrils. Her other two eyes reshaped to resemble a human pair. Her round hole of a mouth--

“Maybe makeup will cover it,” he said. “I'll bring that too.”

But then she developed red lips like those of the calendar girl, and the circular mouth compressed into a horizontal slit. It was becoming human. Her tentacles lay back flat on her head and turned brown, looking increasingly like a wavy hairdo.

It was time for him to go. The post personnel would be suspicious if he overstayed his time. Civilian workers were normally just as eager to get off work as military personnel were. Too bad, because he was starting to get the urge again. His penis was twitching. He started to go for his pants.

She intercepted him. “Mmmm?” She drew herself up and expanded her breasts.

He had to smile. “You read my mind. But this time let's use another position. A man needs variety to get it on a third time so soon.”

He had her bend over and hold on to the bars. Then he came at her from behind, grasping her hips and wedging his rising member into her plush bottom. It was not completely hard, but there was nowhere for it to go but inside. He felt her full buttocks pressing against his groin, adding to his urgency. Once he was fairly inside her, he moved his hands to catch hold of her hanging breasts. They were just as wonderful this way; she had them down pat. He massaged them, stroking the nipples, and felt his member hardening within her. He was getting there.

“Now do your thing,” he said.

She commenced her internal rhythm. It milked his member with its divine peristalsis, and soon the pleasure was forming within him. It gathered and surged through his penis, jetting into her while he held her breasts. This one was slower and less intense, yet fully as delightful, perhaps because he had time to savor it.

“You are some woman, Medusa!” he panted. Then he leaned forward, still holding her breasts, and kissed the back of her neck. Her vagina squeezed him responsively, and her breasts seemed to push against his hands as if seeking more. Even the aftermath was sheer pleasure.

In due course he had to withdraw again, reluctantly. She straightened up and faced him. Her face was another stage more human.

“Mmmm?”

“You want me to kiss you?” The prospect was considerably more inviting than it had been. Her face was hardly pretty, but it did seem pretty much human, with the features correctly positioned and shaped.

He embraced her, squeezed his chest against her breasts, put his face to hers and kissed that mouth. It felt pretty much like a human mouth. She had made another giant stride in her emulation of the Calendar girl.

“Keep working on it,” he told her. “You're getting close.” Then he thought of something. “But revert to your tiger form when I'm gone, so the others don't suspect.”

She nodded.

“Something else,” he said. “When I take you out of here, that's only the first stage. Getting off the base is the greater challenge, because they check for ID. You need to be able to pass for a real woman in every physical detail.”

“Mmmm?”

He hoped he wasn't blushing. “Sometimes they do a strip search. It's an indignity people have to submit to. Things can be smuggled in or out in body cavities. They have to check, uh, inside, to be sure. You have no anus. Because your digestion is different. But a real human woman has one. Lack of it would give you away instantly.”

“Mmmm?”

Now he was sure he was blushing. “It's similar to what men have. Same position, same purpose. I, uh, guess I'll have to show you mine. Then you can emulate it, just as you do the vagina.”

He turned away from her, bent over, and spread his buttock cheeks. “There,” he said, feeling like a patient about to get a prostate check.

She inspected him, stroking his buttocks and scrotum, feeling his penis from behind, sliding fingers across his rectum in a ticklish feather touch. Then she poked a moistened finger in, exploring the interior, much as he had done with her loosening vagina. She withdrew slightly, then thrust in deeper. It felt a lot like sex. His penis was starting to solidify yet again.

“There's a sphincter,” he said. He tightened his own around her finger. “To hold in the—the refuse. You won't need more than that, and a few inches depth to the cavity. Normally that portion of the colon is empty anyway.”

She focused, her finger sliding in and out, exploring the tube of his colon. Her other hand circled the thickening shaft of his penis as if measuring it for size. Then she withdrew and beckoned him. She turned around and bent over.

He checked. Now she had an anus behind her vagina. He licked his finger and poked it in. Her new aperture was correctly sized and lubricated, exactly right for the penetration of a penis. Precisely his size.

She clenched on him, demonstrating her sphincter. “You've got it,” he said, satisfied.

She turned and looked at his member. The exploration had given him an erection, as she had surely been aware. She had needed that erection to get the size right.

“Yes, sometimes men do penetrate the anus,” he said. “For variety. If the woman is willing.” But of course she had known this; it was hardly coincidence that she had measured him for it. To her, a hole in a woman was for the rod of the man.

She turned again, patting her bottom. So he did it, pushing his member carefully in. There was room for it, and it was tight, exactly like a vagina. She had simply copied that, and it really didn't matter.

Then she clenched on him, and he thrust and ejaculated, slowly but intensely. She had graduated, again, making him perform.

But it was overtime to go. He put himself back together and departed, lest he or she get any more ideas and maybe get caught by some routinely passing personnel. It wasn't being caught at sex he was concerned about, because surreptitious trysts were common wherever men had access to women; it was Medusa being caught in human form.

Next day he brought a wheelchair and clothing. No one questioned this; the personnel of the post were specialists with their own jobs to accomplish, and they assumed he was working on his. As he was, though not in the manner they might have supposed.

Medusa was crouched in her prior form. But when he arrived, she commenced a rapid transformation. Her short legs lengthened, her torso developed breasts, waist, and hips, and her head became human. The process took about fifteen minutes. He watched, amazed; she had evidently zeroed in on it and now could return to it relatively swiftly.

Then she drew herself up against the bars. There was another surprise: she was wearing a halter and panties, exactly like those of the calendar girl in a supplementary picture.

No. She had no underclothing. It was skin pigment, in effect painted on. The details of her nipples and vulva showed clearly.

“That's impressive, Medusa,” he said. “But there are effects of clothing I don't think you can duplicate. The material of a blouse stretches across the breasts, and masks them to an extent, flexing as she changes position. A skirt similarly wraps the legs, but shows them when she sits. Mere coloration won't do that. Still, you may be able to dispense with the bra and panties if you find them objectionable. The color may do for that.”

She shrugged, a mannerism she had picked up from him.

He unlocked the gate and brought the clothing in. He dressed her, first in bra and panties, then in blouse and skirt. Then he had her sit in the wheelchair. He stood back and looked at her.

“Oh, Medusa, you look exactly like a lovely woman! The way your thighs show under that skirt—”

She spread her knees. She was offering.

Erik couldn't help himself. He went to her, lifted her up, and embraced her, his penis stiffening. Then he had her remove the panties and skirt so they would not be creased or stained, and nudged into her standing as he clasped her firm buttocks with his hands. Her tight vagina massaged him and quickly evoked his climax. She had learned about sex and rapidly become very good at it.

When he was done, he brought tissues and mopped her vulva, explaining that she must not use her mouth to clean herself when in human company. She nodded.

“Actually, women do on occasion use their mouth on the man's penis, just as he uses his mouth on her vulva, as the fiction and video showed,” he said. “But there's no need for you to do that.” She had made her face look human, but inside was that grinder.

He garbed her again, and showed her the mechanism of the wheelchair. She quickly got the hang of pushing the wheels. This gave her mobility in the human manner. He also demonstrated how he could push the chair from behind, so she did not need to know where they might be going. This was important, because the layout of the base was complicated, and he would have to make their way through it without confusion.

“Another thing,” he said. “When we go out, you must be a helpless woman. No fighting. I will show you around, and you must simply smile and agree to whatever I say.”

She smiled and agreed.

At that point he realized something. He had stopped thinking of Medusa as an alien animal masquerading as a human woman, and started thinking of her as a girlfriend. Worse, he was falling in love with her. Utter folly, he knew, but she fascinated him. All his life he had been seriously intrigued by the possibility of alien sapience without ever expecting to encounter it. Now here it was.

Of course she was catering to him so she could escape. She might even hold him in contempt. His feeling was bound to be one-sided. But there it was.

He had confirmed that the post was to be closed in days. It was time for the terraforming of the planet, which meant that all human personnel would be evacuated to the orbiting colony ship while a program of preliminary extermination commenced. They had been cataloging local life forms, identifying any that were not wanted, targeting them with specific poisons. The planet would suffer a grievous extinction, with only approved plants and animals surviving the first round. Then would come the seeding of primitive Earth life forms to fill in the void. After a suitable waiting period the colonists would be landed, and they would start taking over the planet. The work of the military outpost would be done.

They had two days to get Medusa out. Her species had not been targeted, because Erik had issued no danger report on it. No one else knew of the sapience or shape changing.

“But Medusa,” he cautioned her. “When you get out you must warn your kind. They must flee to safety in distant places, avoiding the terraforming. If my kind ever learns about your kind, I mean your shape-changing and intelligence, your kind will be doomed. You must tell them that.”

“Mmmm.”

He had learned to interpret her sounds, to a degree. “They already know?”

Yes.

“Then how did you get caught?”

It turned out to be not an accident. They had needed to know more of human nature and potential, the better to avoid the threat it represented. She had allowed herself to be captured in animal form, hoping to be considered no more than a local predator. Once she knew enough, she had planned to change form and escape. But she hadn't anticipated the closely barred cage, or the threat of early termination.

“Oh, Medusa, you risked your life!” he said. “Yet I can't say I'm sorry, because it enabled me to get to know you.” He shook his head, bemused. “I realize that you are acting out of necessity, and surely care nothing for me personally. All you want is your freedom, and to help your people survive. But I—” He broke off, confused by his own emotion. “I wish it could have been otherwise. But I will help you all I can, both because I truly believe in treating alien sapients ethically, and because you have more than paid your way sexually. That was the deal you offered, and you have delivered.”