The envelope bore the official seal of the Global Earth Bureau of Extraterrestrial Immigration, and it was addressed to Alice.
Brett couldn’t resist the temptation to open it. They’d been waiting for this envelope for over a year now, since before the wedding. Holding his breath, he tore open the flap and pulled out the letter.
It was printed in a bureaucratic courier font on bright, government-white paper. Dear Mrs. Greely, it said, Your application for permanent residency status on Planet Earth has been approved.
Brett exhaled gratefully. Without bothering to read the rest, he tucked the letter back into the envelope and, clutching it tight, dashed up the driveway to the house. In the kitchen, Alice sat at the breakfast bar, slurping her custom- formulated nutritional beverage through a twirly straw.
“Look what came in the mail.” Brett waved the envelope, seal-side in front, grinning so wide his lips burned from the strain.
Alice dropped her straw and pushed the glass away. Her green eyes fixated on the envelope. “Oh—“ her face fell.
“Aw, come on,” said Brett. “You haven’t even read it yet.”
She reached for the letter, but hesitated. “I’m scared,” she said.
“Open it. I’m sure it’s good news.”
“But what if I have to go back?”
“Hey, I could use a change of scenery,” Brett joked.
“You would hate it there.” Alice wrinkled her nose. “It’s a hostile environment, even for natives. Plus, everything’s so orange. And there’s no economic opportunity. Here, let me see it.” She took the envelope from him but didn’t look at it yet. She closed her eyes and held the envelope between prayerful hands, making a tentative clicking sound with her tongue. “Be good news, be good news, be good news,” she chanted. She opened her eyes and turned the envelope over in her hands. “You opened it?”
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
Alice’s face reddened. “Why do you think you can open a letter addressed to me?”
Even after six months of marriage, her adorable accent still gave him a little thrill. Especially when she was angry. “I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Alice unfolded the letter and scanned it. Her eyebrows crinkled. “How much of this did you read?”
“Just the first—hey, wait, what’s going on here? We should be celebrating. Why are you upset?”
Alice looked up and flashed an awkward smile. “I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It just bothers me when people open my mail.”
“I’m not people. I’m your husband. Anyway, I don’t mind when you open my bills.”
“That’s different. This is more—personal. Oh, never mind. Let’s have some champagne, shall we? To cele—”
“Hold on.” Brett furrowed his brow. “What else is in that letter, Alice?” “Nothing,” she said, her voice a too-tight fiddle string.
“Just that I get to stay on Earth. It’s wonderful, isn’t it? Just what we’ve been hoping for.” She folded the letter and stuck it hastily in her back jeans pocket, then walked over to the fridge and began rifling through its contents. “I know there’s a bottle of champagne in here. Good gracious, Brett, why don’t you ever throw away your takeout containers?”
“Alice, what’s in the letter?”
“Nothing, I told you. Oh, here it is.” She pulled a bottle of champagne out of the refrigerator and started working at the wire basketry surrounding its cork.
“Let me see it, then.”
“See what?”
“Don’t play dumb. The letter.”
“You already saw it, sweetheart. When you opened my mail without my permission, remember?” Her tone was light but accusatory. “Grab the toasting flutes, will you?”
Brett gripped the edge of the counter with both hands. “Let me see it, Alice.”
“Fine.” She thunked the still-unopened champagne bottle down on the counter. “I guess I can’t keep it a secret any longer.” She pulled the letter out of her pocket and thrust it in his face. Beneath her wispy bangs, her green eyes filled with tears. “But I’m warning you, you’re not going to like it.”
“What could possibly be so bad?” Brett un-crumpled the paper and read it. The first paragraph was full of restrained congratulations. The second paragraph contained a bunch of online resources for immigrants. The third paragraph listed the conditions upon which the permanent resident status depended. All pretty boring stuff. The fourth paragraph began: In regards to your humanoid containment suit...
His throat constricted. “Wha—what—who—oh my god—what the hell, Alice?”
“So now you know,” said Alice. She wiped a tear from her eye. “I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want anyone to find out. I love this planet so much, and—and I just wanted to fit in, you know? To be like all the humans. The suit lets me do that. With the suit, I can have friends, a career. A marriage.” She reached out a hand to touch Brett’s shoulder, but he pulled away.
“Our marriage is a lie.” The words came out in a croak.
“No, no, it’s not! I love you.” She clasped her hands together at her chest.
She sounded sincere, but how could he ever trust her again? All this time, he’d thought she was a member of one of the humanoid alien species. It had never even occurred to him to think otherwise. Brett wondered how the suit could be so lifelike, so human, with the dimples and the tiny pores and the birthmark on her hip. He tried to recall if she’d ever had a pimple on her skin. He couldn’t remember any. Come to think of it, she’d never been visibly sick or even injured in the two years they’d been together. And her hair was always the same length. Had she ever gotten it cut? Wait—this must be why she never farted. He’d always figured she was just being ladylike.
“But what are you?” he said.
“I’m still me. I’m still Alice. I’m always Alice.” She gave a hopeful smile, and it broke him. Shattered his anger, dispersed it. He’d built his life around Alice, hung all of his hopes and dreams on their marriage. He had to at least try to make it work.
“Okay, okay.” Brett began to pace the kitchen floor. “I think I just need to process this. Lots of marriages go through something like this, right? My grandpa said he didn’t feel like he truly knew my grandma until they’d been married twenty-five years.”
“Yes,” said Alice.
“Of course, that’s a little different. He was just talking about the time he found out that his favorite German chocolate cake came out of a box.”
“It’s not that different,” Alice protested. “His favorite cake was inside a box. Your favorite Alice is inside a box.”
“But I need to see.”
“See what?”
“What you look like. The Alice underneath the facade.”
“I can’t, Brett.”
“Why not? Is it the atmosphere? Does the suit allow you to breathe?”
“It’s not that, it’s just—you don’t know what it’s like, being on a strange planet and trying to fit in with people who don’t—who can’t—understand your ways and your culture. I guess I feel more in control when I’m inside the suit. And I’ve been wearing it so long, now. I’m almost scared to take it off.” She made a mournful sound in her throat, a cross between a croak and a wail. It was a sound that Brett had come, over the course of their relationship, to associate with regret and anxiety. “Honestly, I’m scared that you won’t love me anymore if you see me the way I really am.”
“And you thought lying to me about your species for the rest of our lives was going to make me love you more? I would’ve found out eventually.”
“I was going to tell you at some point. But how do you tell someone something like this? How do you say to your spouse, ‘honey, I’m actually a non- humanoid alien hiding inside a humanoid alien body’?”
“You could’ve said just that. And what’s with the vagueness? When you say non-humanoid, what do you really mean?”
Alice bit her lip. She didn’t answer.
Brett’s imagination produced a series of unsettling images: Alice ripping off her face to reveal a wrinkly, domed head, pea-green, with eyes like flying saucers. Alice melting into a sentient black goop, slithering across the floor and winding itself up Brett’s legs. Or maybe—would it be foolish to hope? Alice breaking out of her shell, a powerful, green-skinned sex goddess with fiery hair and three perfect tits. This thought aroused him, but his next thought doused his desire instantly.
“Oh my god. What about—holy shit. What about sex? You’re telling me I’ve been making love to a—a doll for the past two years?”
“No! I mean, not really. Well, I suppose you could look at it that way, but I —“
“Do you even feel anything when we have sex?”
“Of course I do. It’s just less physical and more—emotional.” Her eyes were plaintive.
“So, what you’re telling me is that you’ve faked every single orgasm.”
“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t enjoying myself!”
Brett groaned. His legs felt weak. He lowered himself onto a kitchen chair and hid his face in his hands. “Oh god. Oh god.”
“It’s not that bad, is it?”
“Yes, it’s that bad,” Brett said through his hands. “How can you not see it?”
“Okay, I shouldn’t have lied to you.” Her voice sounded sincere. “I’m sorry. It was stupid of me. Really, really stupid. But please don’t be too mad at me.”
“I’m trying here, Alice.” His eyes prickled with tears. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “I’m willing to keep an open mind. But I have to see. You owe me that.”
There was a pause; a silence that stretched taut between them.
And then Alice said, “You’re right. I do owe you that.”
Brett uncovered his eyes and sat up straight, steeling himself for the worst. What sort of creature was his wife, really? More images flickered through his head, each speculation more repulsive than the last: a bulbous-headed monster, a giant sphincter with pointy-sharp teeth, an amorphous ball of green, foul- smelling gas. He shook his head and blinked to erase the nightmarish visions.
Alice took a deep breath and began to remove articles of clothing. First she unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the glowing skin of her abdomen. Synthetic skin, Brett reminded himself. Next, off came her jeans, and she tossed them to the floor. She removed her socks and added them to the pile. Her arm twisted behind her back to undo the closure of her lacy bra, and it, too fell to the floor, unveiling perfect breasts, perfectly human. And then the penultimate article: the black panties. She shimmied out of them and turned her back to Brett.
“Can you unzip me?” she said. “Under that little lump on my spine.”
“That’s what that is? How did I never notice?”
“Don’t feel bad. It’s a very clever design.”
With shaky hands, he ran his fingers down her spine at the neck, looking for the lump of tissue that hid the catch. When he felt it beneath his fingertips, he fussed with it until it blossomed open to reveal a metal tab like the top of a zipper. Grasping the tab between his thumb and forefinger, he tugged down, down, until the zipper caught at the tailbone.
Alice’s head drooped forward. Her body snicked open at the midline and stood hinged apart like two halves of a walnut. The suit’s inner core was too dark to see into, but a crackling chitter reverberated from within. Brett stepped back and waited.
“Are you ready?” Alice said, her muffled voice quavering.
“I’m ready.”
Out of the divide, a slender, angular-jointed foreleg emerged, followed by a vaguely heart-shaped head with two viscous green eyes. Shapely antennae crowned the head and a pair of shimmery, languidly curving wings flittered at him. Another foreleg appeared, and then another four legs, supporting a long, thin body, the color of willow bark, articulated in thirds like a beckoning finger. Unfurled to her full height, Alice eclipsed him by half and he wondered how she ever could have fit into that cramped humanoid form.
The bisected human shell stood immobile behind Alice as she stalked to the center of the kitchen, the row of brown, hair-like spines on her forelegs flicking up, down, up.
“Well?” she said. Her voice still had the adorable accent, the sweet overtone, but beneath that was a rapid click-click-click-ing.
“Well,” Brett began. He cleared his throat.
“You hate me now, don’t you?” Her head tilted to one side. Click-click-click. “No, babe, of course I don’t. I just—“
“Be honest.” Click-click.
“Well, it’s not exactly what I expected, but—“
“But what?”
“You’re—“
“Yes?” Click.
“So—beautiful.”
“Really?” She stalked closer to him, extended a foreleg to caress his jawline. It felt sticky.
“Really.” Brett trembled and a warm, kindling feeling spread through him. “I just want you to stay like this all the time. Why didn’t you show me sooner?”
“Oh, Brett,” Alice clicked. “I love you.” She scooped him up and carried him to the bar and, cradling him in the crooks of her forelegs, she used a midleg to sweep the champagne away. She laid him gently on the counter and offered a spiny foreleg for him to stroke. Her touches were soft, almost worshipful, and her seductive nibbles sent little surges of pleasure coursing through him.
The climax came in a building crescendo and just at the peak of intensity, Alice gripped him by the ears with her spindly forelegs and twisted. With a snap, Brett’s head tore free from his torso, and the last thing he knew was the loving gaze of her viscous green eyes and the adorable click-click-click that resounded beneath her crooning.
Thank you for reading!
Hi! My name is Leslie Starr O'Hara, but I go by Starr. I live in the mountains of North Carolina and I write fiction, satire, humor, and the odd anarchist think piece here on Steemit. Follow me if you're interested in stuff about sci-fi, writing, homeschooling, productivity, or just stuff that will make you laugh your britches off.
Buy me a coffee!
