In which the Potato Crew keep flashing xenos.
The Potatoes were humble individuals from the start. They signed up for the experiment for one good reason: to get the moniez, the greens, the big bucks! So, they mostly had no trouble following orders to the best of their understanding, prior to the transplant and once they had their new xeno bodies.
“[Mr. [Potato Feathers], please!]” Said the Karnakian scientist. “[Put on your jumpsuit!]”
That said, habits die hard. And when you are treated as if your new “animal skin” is now your clothing (and that treatment extends for years), getting used to suit up for the sake of modesty takes time and effort.
“Why? It feels stuffy and my feathers itch!” Said Potato Feathers, arms crossed and facing the wall, yet giving the white jumpsuit the stink eyes.
“[Because you keep distracting the interns. Now, put it on!]”
“Bah!” Thought Potato Feathers, glancing at the glass wall to check the (flustered but oh-so-interested) flock of Karnakians staring at him clutching their tablets. “This was not an issue before.”
And that was true. Until the xenos arrived a few months ago and they insisted they should cover themselves after one too many incidents amongst the newest xeno residents.
“[Mr. [Potato Kibbles], stop running!]” Said a Dorarizin chasing a naked Dorarizin around the hall. Then- “[Gotcha!]” Another Dorarizin flanked the naked rogue, cornering him at last. “[Now, be a good boy and put on your suit.]” Said the first one, holding a white jumpsuit in claw.
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
“(No, no, no.)” Ninjutsued Potato Kibbles, ears back in anxienty and tail between his legs. “(Do not want!)”
“Shustputitonalready.” Said Potato Noodle from another corner, getting dressed by an earth-brown Jornissian and being the only one content to have clothes for warm. “You’llgetushedtoit.”
Feathers gave Noodle the stink eyes. “Traitor.”
Noodles gave him the mocking snake tongue, ever so amused by his Karnakian bro’s four eyes. “Comeon,guysh.Iwannaplaycassh.” Said he, holding the ball.
Feathers finally relented to put on the suit, muttering under his breath as he struggled with it. “You’ll get lots of GRC, they said. You’ll be able to buy a whole private beach world, they said.”
But, why were the xenos helping with the (secret) human project in the first place? Is what the trio wanted to know.
By all accounts, the Space Union of Sapient Species should have freaked out at their existence. I mean, wouldn’t you freak out if you met a seemingly “normal” human who turned out to be an alien all along?
Well, that’s just human perspective. Ya now?
In truth, the xenos had no qualms with what their smol neighbours had created in the Union’s image, since thousands of years of communal interaction and living had desensitized them to most of the uncanny valley.
To them, the trio of (ex-human) xenos were like stranded individuals found in the deep jungle after being raised by animals. They were clumsy, socially inept, spoke in garbled nonsense, prefered the ease of being naked (innocently flaunting their sculptural physique), but, most importantly, they were adorkable because of their smol-like behaviour and rituals.
“[Aww]” Went the army of observing researchers, once Feathers and Kibbles put on their jumpsuits and joined Noodle in their daily ritual of pass-the-ball and hot potato.