My Girlfriend's An Alien

CHAPTER 1

Rosseh

Earth is an odd place. These Blue Planeters are not at all how I’d pictured them in my mind. I’d researched, yes, and watched the Earth entertainment vids. Discovering the big blue planet was a large part of my childhood curriculum. I’d circled this water filled crusty rock for so long, watching from afar but never venturing closer, waiting, biding my time, it was ridiculous. And, yet, nothing could have prepared me for the uniqueness that is an Earth being.

Humans were… weird. I was sure the feeling was mutual from some of the conversations I’d had that went funny quick. I could hardly expect these strange beings with their many languages, slang, and slang within slang, as it felt, and the unique customs and traditions, they were so vast and each so distractingly unique, some Earthers felt themselves like an outsider amongst their own. Disdain and or direct shunning was fully expected.

Farther Tu had tried to warn me about this very thing on my first humans prepping. I’d been practicing walking amongst human beings since I was old enough to crawl across the mothership’s floor. I supposed nothing really could have prepared me for life on Earth but for jumping right in.

I’d initially decided to come to Earth to witness their languages firsthand. After much urging from Daub-non, Daub or Daubby as I called the devolved Farqkiin and my main parental figure, who understood my need to find a place, I’d decided this was a solid enough foundation to being my quest. And if I managed a way to assist The Fathers in their endeavors, that would be just fine, as well.

Language, nuances, the intricacies of hand gestures, body language, facial expressions, the similarities to the Farqkiin and even my own dual natured biology were proof Universal. And others, not quite, not even close. So fascinating.

I was smitten with the oddness that is Earth’s inhabitants. The social, political, economic- well, their everything, it was strange how much it varied from place to place. And yet some things more or less seemed to be the norm, a mild equalizer, or so I felt, to me. Farther Wan, F-Wan as I called him, claims death is the only great equalizer, but Farqks have long life spans and he can calmly state this with that serene look on his face from the safety of the mothership and a long lived already span.

Lepyrs, while longer lived than a human, do not have the luxury of existing indefinitely. I wasn’t even entirely sure just how old The Fathers—as I referred to The Farthers of Farqkiin who’d taken me in as a kitling and saw me to maturity—were. They were the closest to any real knowing of family I had, stiff as I felt they could be at times.

Perhaps I was a weirdo, as the term implied. Ory was not a cuddly Lepyr, nor Skuht, to my mind, though I doubted they’d find me equally as biddable or huggable. Why would they want to hug me in the first place? Why would I wish to show affection to them? The humans’ cootie rules applied here. No circle-circle-dot-dotting of an imaginary cooties shot could save me from the idea either. And yet, I craved the idea of a hug. I wished to snuggle. Was this a Pardruvian defect within me? Had my cutthroat father wished to... cuddle as often as I wished to be held and feel loved?

I overheard Farther Tu loudly transmitting to Farther Foor he wondered if my mission was sexual conquest related, perhaps of an emotional-needs-wishing-to-be-better met driving, Enjaul driven, a quest for mild nature nurturing guidance, or otherwise, as I refused their offers to join me on my pilgrimage to Earth. He’d almost sounded worried. I’d found it funny and heartwarming all at once. My Fathers cared in their own way, but were loath to show it. Farthers of Farqkiin didn’t lower themselves to such things. They were above emotional complications. Feelings were messy and unnecessary. I’d wished they’d shown me some small measure of open affection as a child. Even Daub struggled with this in his devolution.

I’d wished it so much, when I’d finally found two Lepyr males I could be around, I’d basically been so wound up I’d been a defensive, emotional bundle of nerves. It hadn’t gone well and the defensive chord struck between us all has become our norm. If we couldn’t say it with dry sarcasm, it wasn’t to be said. I supposed I held a grudging affection for the crew of the Deventinor. They were as lonely as I, or maybe I was simply projecting. It wasn’t easy, these lives we’d been born to. The isolation of space could crush a lesser being.

The Fathers probably feared I’d return pregnant and worried they’d have to see another beastly little being to maturity. Hah. I gave them hell enough to last several of their lifetimes as a kit. A tiny smirk tilted my lips and I adopted the humans’ eyerolling. What a perfect way to convey annoyance and or disgust! But to think I wouldn’t love and hug and cuddle and raise my own offspring with all the affection they required? I should have marched over and given The Fathers a piece of my mind at the blasphemous idea. Pieces of one’s mind—another delightful Earth phrase.

Earth movies have proved especially useful in adopting Earth customs, though I struggled with the ages of phrasings and age limitations. I am looking to be a human in her thirties years. While I enjoyed the older Earth movies, their word choosings were outdated. Pity. I rather loved many of them. So lively, simple, pointed.

In an attempt to update my wordings, I gave in to their inter-webs and looked up appropriately aged ones that might Earth age me, starting with the year 2000 in a familiar to Earthlings sense. That’s hot, would never be a part of my vernacular, though watching those two young women on the dated television show I’d found in relation stumble through endeavors gave me hope I may just fit in with some of Earth.

The bomb, sounded violent, like a promise of an act of war—I don’t care how delightful whatever I was eating was. The shit, we weren’t going to go into why I wouldn’t be using that one. It was self-explanatory. To yeet or not to yeet, I had to yeet the very idea. I would never tell someone what kind of animal they shouldn’t have, they may have as many cows as they like… I saw no point in telling someone they are tripping if they are not, or to slow their roll, if that was even physically possible, unless it served as a diversion tactic? That is hot? No. No-no-no. And what if I claim it is hot and it is quite cold? Confusing!

Earth English was considered the hardest second language for Earthlings to learn. It was true, I could have just had a translating implant put in, as most did anyway, and Earth was my fiftieth after Garmofraka, but I was up to the challenge. The Fathers did not rear a tail tucking kitling who could not rise.

My human disguise was weird, pale, squishy flesh with no hair covering most of it, but I fit right in. Farther Thre thought the basis he’d chosen for my shift was the best choice for my personality and the geographical area I’d wished to be living. Why Daub-non thought the hair choosing was so funny, I’d never understand. And when I’d scowled at him and demanded to know what was so mirth giving, he’d simply said I was cute. Cute? It was humans’ eyeroll inducing but better than him admitting humans with red hair were somehow perceived as feistier than others, like hair had a say in this? Pfft. To be contrary, I’d changed that flaming red to a pretty brown and toned my skin down until there was a hint of an olive tone to it. In keeping with this, I chose a face and body with little brown spots all over it at random instead of the reddish orange ones. They did not wish me to adjust too much, claiming I might stand out too much if too many alterations occurred and they’d already planned out my Earth’s back story for my shifted persona. These males... Not wanting to offend, I’d given them their way.

In keeping with my own features in some way, I’d chosen large eyes. I found the curly hair on many fascinating, tight small curls to thick wide ones that spiraled down the back, but this model had mid length, thick wavy hair. The initial length was not so adjustable, as it was one within adjustment to my own from human to Lepyr, and straight like my own natural fur, but I could grow it out and style it, Farther Wan had assured me. I was too enamored with the rest of my choices, a rounded bottom and nails long enough to suit me, pointed chin and ears that stuck out just enough, a nose that fit the Lepyr I was hiding in this form, the effect the combination made, to part with any of it. This form became a part of me, in a very real sense. Gray tech was advanced, very advanced, become-able-to-shift-into-a-human-to-blend-in-amongst-them-better-than-the-rest advancement. It involved gene splicing and a complex procedure they’d perfected to safety for their Lepyr offspring before I was granted the gift of a shift.

A dozen tutorials on Earth hair stylings and a few too many burns with a curling iron and hair gels, sprays, and mousses, and I’d fixed my need for curls, if my hair did have an unsatisfying crunch to it. Perms. In the end, I’d given my disguise hair an Earth perm that held the shapings I desired. To save time, I’d programed the hair settings into my ship The Ken’s modifier and linked it to my com. With the touch of a button on the communicator with my ship I’d disguised as a human’s watch, I had my hair ready within moments, no more burns or hair damage, the least harmful compounds used to procure my desired hair dressing. It used up power, yes, but The Ken made up for it hovering above my place in orbit, direct sunlight absorbed into its cloaking shields easily recharging it tenfold.

A small timer on my com allowed me to keep track of how long I’d been shifted. If I tarried too long without assuming my own skin, I risked suddenly shifting. Then I risked a lecture from The Fathers as they adjusted the mind(s) of whatever hapless human(s) had stumbled across me in my disgrace.

There were many firm rules to being gifted gray tech, as it was known throughout the Verse. Not many were aware of a gray’s actual name or origins. There were many firm rules, period, as one of the mothership. One, I was not to talk about any of this or explain it to outsiders, this included the ever nosey and poking for info Skuht and his curmudgeonly commander, Captain Grumpy.

At one point, I’d wanted so badly to feel a part of the Deventinor’s grouping, to be accepted into the Lepyr fold, but I’d never expose my Fathers. To realize Skuht had only begun speaking with me of his own volition upon learning of my possession of gray tech, it was like being emotionally sucked out of an airlock. The Ken was fascinating, to be sure, a work of artistry of a ship, but to pretend to pursue friendship for information? A part of my heart had been smooshed beneath his big, goofy foot. I’d thought he’d truly wished an audience with me in an attempt at friendliness. I’d thought perhaps he’d come around to the idea I might make for a friendship companion, as he had with Ory. I’d thought… Well, I’d been a foolish young one and it had forever soured me on the male. I’d lick my own butt before offering another branch of friendship to that- Ahem.

There weren’t many of our kind, let alone within the Earth’s orbit. I’d never wanted anything more than to feel like I belonged. The Fathers and Daub tried. The mothership was loath to leave the big blue planet’s orbit, and I didn’t wish to travel far from the only real home I’d ever known. Ken, my ship, felt more like my first car, as the Earther’s thought of it. The mothership was home.

Meeting a Pardruvian was out of the question. My father had been of a royal line. I’d be assassinated for simply having been created. The mixing of lines, even more so enemy lines, I was