Close Encounters of the Bus Kind

[4]

“What is it…?” Paul Morris immediately noticed Erin Reeve’s unease the moment she returned from checking on her cat. Erin casually brushed off her concern with a wave. Bubsy was fine, it was just some critter standing in the mist. Paul wanted to see it, especially when she described it as a large, black dog.

Of course, when she was at the drape, the mist-cloaked street beyond was completely free of strangeness. Paul briefly considered sneaking outside to see if she could find it, but Erin ensnared her in a nervous, protective viselike grip and led her back to the main room.

Erin also had designs for what they could do next. ”You shared your flower once, and you made me feel so good. Can you share it again and, this time, I can make you feel good?”

Paul was usually pretty clever about innuendos, but it took him a moment to realize what she meant. She felt hot and sweaty as Erin already started her advances. This time, she wouldn’t let Paul turn things around to lavish on her. Her pants came down easily. Erin advanced gradually but with teasing persistence. What Paul had down there still felt like a mystery, but she gasped and shivered as she accepted Erin’s soft intrusion.

Nothing else Paul could imagine made her feel so distant from the man she’d been when she woke up in the morning. It wasn’t a bad or scary separation, but it was intimidating to her senses and sense of self. She squirmed and squeezed as Erin’s ministrations soon became overwhelming, like the ocean dragging her under. The pace was too quick for her to comprehend, yet perfect. The subsuming terror along with the vertigo-inducing excitement was neither terrible nor scary, but they brushed up against the bedrock of Paul’s masculine ego, like a realization of castration or learning she caught the worst-case cooties and was a girl forever.

That was actually, literally true though. Unless the aliens decided to come back and reverse it, this was just her. This frank revelation, deeply obvious, struck her like a hammer vibrating glass. She was a woman, a girl. No longer a man, no longer the Paul she used to be. What did that make her now, beyond the obvious? The current of her feelings tumbled over any effort to slow down and reflect. She was feeling things she never could’ve even dreamed of. And she was feeling them because of the person who captured her heart at its earliest blush.

She managed to let go of her fear, at least for Erin’s sake. Part of her brain pretended that she still had all the old things and that her crush was giving the best finger action to a phantom. Whatever it needed, to accept its new reality. The rest of Paul rode the currents to the magnificent pinnacle and crest that existed beyond words. It wasn’t monumentally different than what she managed on her own and a handful of times with nervous college partners.

At the same time, it was like discovering an entirely different language. What was tightly concentrated and rigidly focused instead translated up through her thighs, into unfamiliar crevices, and echoed rapturously like the ringing of the bell. But it didn’t culminate in a single, rushing finish, rather it cascaded over the precipice and into new territory. It was like finding an uncapped wellspring that flowed into her instead of erupting out. All those sensations carved through her like a tenacious, liquid animal.

She could appreciate the analogy of a rock disturbing a pond’s surface and the slow-motion undulations that brought her back to equilibrium. Simultaneously, that still didn’t seem like enough to crystallize what she felt. It was like a delirious dream, and she wanted to return to it and remember all the fine details.

Erin kissed her gently as she cleaned up and helped her switch into a pair of flannel pants. The smell of the moment and the smell of herself contained both exotic elements and gross bits. They each wanted a shower, but Erin eagerly encouraged her to take the first one. Paul’s firm, dainty thighs quivered with the weight of everything and the exhaustion of a nearly transcendent experience. She set her clothes aside on the towel rack as she faced the walk-in shower with trepidation but also lingering butterflies of excitement.

The shower wasn’t especially fancy. It had silvery brown stone adorning three walls with a cloudy glass door on the end. She grimaced from the loud “THUNK” when opening the metallic latch. Inside, she appreciated a multilevel pole attached to the floor which provided far more shelf space than the meager recesses in the stone.

She only touched what products she recognized and did so sparingly, so as not to waste her host’s stuff. Paul was surprised to find that Erin didn’t have anything set aside for scrubbing. Fortunately, one of the nearby closets in the bathroom contained several hand towels to choose from.

It was a little rough on her unfamiliar skin, but she worked the soap gently. She would’ve preferred one of her familiar loofahs but hadn’t thought to pack that in her go bag. Washing and sudsing up her boobs offered some entertainment value, although she resisted the urge to really play with things while polite company was just a few walls away. Not that it would be scandalous, considering that company had just brought her to a frantic orgasm.

Did this mean Erin was her girlfriend? Or that she was Erin‘s girlfriend? She supposed terminology didn’t really matter. She quietly reflected on their situation and wondered what their families would think before her thoughts fully returned to her body.

The smoothness and spongy feeling of her skin made everything she tried feel more intense. Just standing there with her legs apart, as water ran down her shape, made that shape feel achingly exposed.

Eventually, she decided it was time to finish up, even though she was just getting familiar with the texture of herself. She delighted in the fact that a modest towel from the closet was able to comfortably cover her body. Experimenting with something she’d seen in movies, she carefully endeavored to wrap the towel so that it fits snugly and securely around her bust. It kind of worked for her.

Twisting and tucking a small rat tail between her cleavage did the trick but she could barely move without feeling like everything was going to tumble to the floor. It did provide a brief, sexy moment over by the mirror. She had so much hair that not even the biggest towel she dared to grab really dried it.

The results in the mirror looked playfully tousled and matted. Just your average, everyday teen starlet. She reflected on her tan skin. Her family was thoroughly British with some Irish and German mixed around. This girl looked just a shade darker than Thessaly. She had no idea what that meant but this was done by aliens with crazy medical science. It felt fruitless to speculate.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Standing there, feeling weirdly sexy with this strange body, Paul felt an ominous rumbling in her tight, compact gut and immediately swiveled around and returned to the bathroom. The sounds that followed were like smashing several sledgehammers in succession against the porcelain. Fortunately, she was able to flush several times.

Not only did it feel like she cleared out the epic omelet that she’d consumed as a man, but clearly she had also exorcized the presence of several other meals dating back months. There wasn’t much of her original body left but the little green men had managed to pack in all the leftovers. By the time she finally judged that ordeal finished, it was like being emptied like a tube of toothpaste, wrung inside out, twisted several times, and then left feeling downright two-dimensional. At least she was still human.

The girl in the mirror definitely looked how she felt. The starlet backstage. She did what she could with her hair while getting it to dry. Once dressed, she hustled out so Erin could take her shower.

She discovered Erin ambling in the hallway with her phone gripped in one hand while the other pressed to her forehead, as though struggling to recall something.

“All done”, Paul pronounced. Erin jerked her head, as though startled by Paul’s presence. Urgently, Erin hustled over to the linen closet at the juncture of the hallway and told her, “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. Do you need a bigger towel? There are probably only those little ones in there.” Erin extracted a monumental, fluffy pink towel that spread out like a sheet large enough to completely obscure her with an extra fold of fabric spilled over on the carpet. That was way more than Paul needed for her damp hair, but she gladly accepted the impromptu robe. Erin half shut her eyes and shook her head, as though realizing how ridiculous it looked.

It didn’t take much attention for Paul to realize that something was on Erin‘s mind. She adjusted her phone in her hand and peered longingly at the wafting steam from Paul’s shower before explaining, “My…mother called me.”

Paul’s eyes widened. The only mentions she knew of Erin‘s mother were vague negative gripes she remembered from school and how this evening she had brought up similar issues. More negative things about her father but certainly not glowing remarks about her mom. Cautiously, Paul probed, “Everything okay?”

To this, Erin released a small chuckle. “The woman I just talked to was not my mother. She may have had my mother’s voice and know the things my mom does but she was kind, concerned, and asked me how my volleyball meet went. She was receptive to the stress in my voice, and wanted to make sure I was all right. She’s coming over.”

All that sounded good to Paul, until she started to really think about it and inquired, “Is that weird?”

“You have no idea. My mom lives in Florida… The one on the other side of the country from here. And she calls like five times a year to see if I’m breathing and still haven’t bothered to give her a grandchild. Something’s wrong. I am losing it. We are not where we’re supposed to be. Like in the wrong world or another place. I don’t know.”

That sounded like a bit of a stretch to Paul, but she trusted the sincerity of the confusion and terror in her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she elaborated, “Do you remember that weird footstep noise in the parking lot earlier?”

Paul recalled the wrecked wobbly trashcan they stopped right next to that sort of sounded weird. Otherwise, she had to admit that she didn’t really remember anything strange. Erin hung her head and voiced, “I’m going crazy. I’m seeing big black dogs out there and people in the mist and hearing versions of my mom that can’t possibly exist.”

Single-mindedly, Paul embraced Erin. She easily overwhelmed her, so Paul made up for that by wrapping her in the spare towel. “You’re not crazy. We got abducted by aliens who turned us into teenage girls. Of course, there are creepy things in the mist and weird dogs, and impossible people. And I promise, with all my heart, I will stand with you through whatever comes our way.” Despite her small, light voice and reduced presence, Paul did her best to affect as much confidence and energy as she could give those words.

Erin snuggled close to her. “God. I wish I wasn’t such a coward.”

“Same here”, Paul gave her a light kiss on the hand. As they smiled wistfully at one another, the moment was interrupted by buzzing around the corner at the front door.

Paul leaned to look as Erin nervously drew her hands away from the towel. The knocking was steady and persistent but not violent.

“Your….mom?” Paul kept his attention on Erin. She squeezed a breath into herself and then eased it out. Even though she nodded lightly, Erin didn’t appear confident. She made her way to the stairs with Paul lingering close by. Bubsy meowed from the other room but didn’t provide any further support.

Erin’s felt like it was being tickled by dozen invisible spiderwebs. She fussed in place on the lower landing and strained to listen through the door. Cautiously, she posed the question, “Mom…?”

“Yes, sweetie. Just stopping by. Open up or I can try my key.”

Paul had listened to countless hours of unsettling podcasts featuring breathlessly narrated spooky tales both supposedly truthful and unabashedly fictional with one earbud and his phone set in the charger while driving. She was anticipating no voice on the other side or a deep frail imitation, like a Skinwalker smelling of wafting, rotten flesh. What she heard sounded possibly like a person, but she had no idea what Erin was expecting. Glancing over, she saw that Erin appeared unnerved but not terrified. Hopefully a positive sign.

Reaching out, Erin gingerly undid the main latches and the deadbolt. Checking her side, she realized, with her eyes widening, that she didn’t have her concealed gun with her. And Paul had put aside the mace. They each took a step back as the front door opened.

In walked a woman who didn’t appear too much older than Erin before this evening. She had a rusty-brown shade to her hair that reminded Paul of how Erin looked back in high school. But her locks were a lot thicker and spread out whereas Erin tended to keep her hair tied back and bunched up. She wore a dark blue and black striped top and weathered blue jeans. Shifting a large purse onto her shoulders, she brushed her hair back, flashing vibrant blue painted fingernails, and smiled at Erin.

“Sorry, I’m late sweetie. Have you and your friend been having a good evening since you got back from the meet?”