Emerald Maiden Chapter 33: Housemate
The content level and some tags are reflective of the work as a whole. Some chapters may not feature extreme content while others will. Reader discretion is advised.
Path of the Emerald Maiden is a coming-of-age adventure story with mild horror elements and, due to its nature, contains violent (and occasionally gory) scenes. This erotica seeks to tell a story first and excite in the other way second. You could read the entire thing and enjoy it without even being into the content depicted.
All of the violence depicted within the book is for story purposes only and exists independent of sex scenes, though they may be next to them. You can expect scenes of giant alien-on-person sex, said giant alien harming people, and acts of depravity such as torturous murder. The story is ultimately about the protagonist’s struggle to accept her new life and her journey in the doing, along with the changes that occur within her.
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Kinverse: Volume One
PATH OF THE EMERALD MAIDEN
A naive young monster’s tale by Moros, aka KinverseWriter
Legal Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise herein mentioned. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters and events in this story are entirely fictional. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. This work of fiction contains disturbing content.
Reader discretion is advised.
Description:
A young woman from a pre-neolithic society is accidentally whisked away to another world entirely during a raid on a research lab run by alien invaders. Stranded with no friends, badly injured, and no idea where home even is, she’s forced to live off the land and learn how to survive in this strange and hostile world.
There’s only one slight problem, though.
She’s not trapped in this world with them. They’re trapped in this world with her.
Categories:
Adventure, Coming-of-Age, Isekai, Erotica.
Disclaimers:
This story contains sexual elements and disturbing themes. The contents aren’t purely intended to be pornographic, but some scenes objectively are. This is about a giant monster that eats people, so reader discretion is advised. This story contains vorarephilic themes.
This story will have a very slow and intermittent pace to begin with. True stakes don’t really show up until halfway through, though the build-up is always there in the background. This is ultimately not a story of grand adventure and defeating one’s enemies to rise to the top, it is the tale of a lost and naive young woman growing as a person and learning new things. It is a personal one concerning her, and thus this story will be told in present-tense first-person.
Chapter 33: Housemate
Cracking open a book from Sam’s shelf, I settle in at a spare dining chair facing my sister and Emeral. With the same gentleness belied by her size, she cuddles the changed woman as she reads on her own phone, a soft smile plastered on her face.
All in all, she’s accepted things surprisingly well--especially given her own similar rough-but-well-meaning treatment.
Sighing, I return my focus to the story book as thoughts of Emeral’s nature nibble at the back of my mind. What is she? Where did she come from? Why is she here? What does she want? And most importantly, how do we factor into it all? Is she someone lost and desperate for help, with a penchant for making mistakes in the doing? Or is she what my nightmares want her to be: a ticking timebomb?
Peeking back over the page I just reread twice I try to reconcile the scene before me with what I saw in the forest. How could something--someone--be the same violent being who tore someone apart while also being so disconcertingly gentle?
Again I find myself losing words followed by entire sentences so I give up and set the book down, not even bothering to use the bookmark I brought with me. Shutting my eyes I sit back and think.
What was I doing bringing her back here if I was worried about our safety? Why did I not ditch her in the forest while she was in no state to chase me? Why did I come back at all from Campbell River?
The answer is one I’ve already concluded before: whether I like it or not, she is now my responsibility. Respectively for each: she showed clear ability and willingness to harm humans, though specifically in self defense; we were outside of an urban center and she was hungry, ill, and injured; and she damaged my truck and abducted me in her desperation.
So what would she have done if I left her alone in a worse-off state?
She’s not some dumb animal. She had the sense to not only ‘do her business’ outside of our house, she did it away from people out in the forest. Over just a few days she’s picked up dozens of English words and phrases. She recognized the purpose of a pillow and backpack, objects perhaps pilfered after being forgotten in a camp site last month--but she didn’t know how fast food wrappers work.
All of this spells out ‘I was living under a rock, now please feed me.’ As if she was up and dropped here, naked as the day she was born.
Disregarding the hows, could she be from some less-advanced people? Or perhaps she just didn’t realize the wrapper wasn’t part of the food?
The thought conjures to mind the alien astride a ludicrously large horse, wearing wholly unnecessary plate armor with a lance couched and shield ready: Knight Emeral, lady of Grrblehland!
I giggle and snort, and Sam gives me the odd look her particular situation should be getting before going back to her phone. I feel muscle memory to pull out my own and go back to what I was doing, but recognize the impulse and stop. Phone addicts, the lot of us.
A book will do for now.
“This is the bathroom. You get water here, you do sick there, and I wash you with this.”
Pointing to the sink, toilet, and bathtub respectively I begin our tour of my home. Said sink isn’t the best for water but it’ll suit her needs; the toilet is too small for more than indigestion, and the tub could maybe be used for a leg, head, or tail at a time.
She won’t have understood what half of that meant but it doesn’t matter. She’s half-filled the room and is eagerly filling the rest with her curious gaze, sniffing, poking, and prodding at many of Sam’s things. I twist the faucet’s knob and run my hand through the water, cupping some. The toilet is simple to showcase, the seat simply being flipped open and the water dumped in before pressing the flush handle. The tub is much the same as the sink, just larger with two knobs and the showerhead up above.
With a towel on standby I grab at her foreleg, looking to her face for permission. She yields as I tug and assists as I pull it to the basin, beneath the sprinkling water. Using a wash cloth I scrub the rough plates thoroughly, dislodging some grime and what caked mud hadn’t fallen off already. She flexes out her claw-tipped fingers and I very delicately work each digit over. There’s still some detritus all over the limb but I would need some sort of scrubbing brush to do a better job; perhaps an old toothbrush, but for now it’ll do for demonstration’s sake.
Turning off the water and shifting the ‘arm’ back, I begin towelling it off before setting it back down, my apparent new housemate observing passively as I handle her. She stares at the faucet, to the shower, and back down to the water control knobs, bringing her unwashed limb over to the controls--a limb which I’m just going to start thinking of as an arm from now on for simplicity’s sake.
Just as I’d done before she turns on the water but jerks back, having only turned on the cold water. I correct her mistake and allow her to continue her own investigations.
At first cautiously then eagerly she plays with the falling water. Hunched over as she is I help her with the scrubbing, repeating my cleaning. After towelling off again with the water left running she shifts in place uneasily and glances between me and her legs, and I gather what she wants.
Laying myself flat against the wall as she does her best to not knock anything over, she shuffles around before stepping one leg back out into the tub, the other lifted toward me with her tail curled beneath her. The process repeats twice more and I marvel at her strange four-clawed raptor-like feet each time--which are especially in need of getting grime out.
Her final limb remains one of confusion to me: unlike practically the rest of her bar her chest, this limb’s armoring is completely smooth up to a point near her knee. The cloth and towel glides over it, not once getting caught. Everywhere else reminds me of a bumpy popcorn ceiling and yet just this one and her belly are better than ‘fine,’ they’re flawless.
Maybe in the future we could work together to sand everywhere else smooth like the mysterious limb, but today is not that day.
Clean and clear water, delivered right to the nest!
Everything makes sense now. While this nesting-place is situated on a river, knowing what I know of Carey’s kind they may not like going down there all the time. This is an ingenious solution to one of life’s simplest problems: where to find water and how to get it. With this ‘bathroom’ you could have as many individuals crammed into as small an area as you’d like, so long as you can bring enough water. Not to mention the fact that it can be warm or cold!
The water runs no matter how much I drink and drink deep I do; my Carey long forgotten. No more drinking my water bottles and certainly no risking a trip to the river, I need only stay here.
Right here, where water is aplenty, shelter is guaranteed, and my Carey struggles impotently between me and the wall.
This place is a paradise...
...and now I just need food.
“This is our kitchen... and this is our dining room... and this is our living room... and this is the hallway again...” Sam watches on with a smirk as I lead Emeral around, the alien lumbering and sniffing throughout our home. She’s only knocked something over twice, and neither object even broke!
Entering my bedroom with her in tow, she takes one look at my bed and adopts that all-too-common ‘confused’ expression: eyes wide, mouth shut, and nostrils flaring. She instantly spots the pillows and approaches, laying one ‘hand’ on my made sheets. The bed itself is a queen--more than I’d need but it came with the house. Emeral presses down on the mattress, feels the cloth of my comforter, and runs her hand all over. For a moment I worry for her claws but no ripping occurs, the digits carefully held away.
Before I can intervene she’s hopped atop and laid across, making the larger-than-needed bed suddenly seem far too small. The wood and springs creak ominously beneath her weight as she rolls but thankfully hold.
No matter how much I try to dislodge her, she remains splayed out on her side, head and tail curled in.
This sight-sound rectangle is far larger than all others I’ve seen. Both the sight and the sound are proportionally larger and louder, able to be easily understood from across a ‘room:’ their name for a designated space.
A smiling woman showing a lot of teeth drawls on in their language as symbols, colors, and images flash around her. There was a slight kerfuffle with the machine between my Carey and what I now know to be my ‘Sam,’ but now the former has settled down in favor of Sam showing me whatever this is.
Something about a ‘news,’ and it being ‘simple,’ and ‘unlikely to overwhelm or mislead her.’ So in other terms: an unintelligible-yet-enlightening experience. The device turns off from a distance, Carey having had enough. Just like the radio I swipe the small rectangle from her hand--delicately, for she is delicate--and press the thing she did.
It hums back to life so I press it again. Off. Again, on. Again, off once more. And again, on! Carey reaches over but rather than try to fight me like last time she simply presses a sequence of buttons, changing the sight-sound rectangle rather than switching it on or off. Instead of symbols, colors, and the woman, the screen has changed to a simple view of Carey’s tall intruders doing tall intruder things. They speak to each other, they gesticulate, and they generally exist. I even understand some of it.
Unexpectedly interrupting these new noises comes what can only be described as a ringing--or perhaps gonging--noise. After a moment I ascertain its origin: the ‘hallway’ space rather than the sight-sound rectangle. I look to my Carey for answers, and find her face to have gone pale. She swipes the controller and turns off the machine.
Ha! Tall intruders are weird.
“Go, get down there, and be quiet! You down! Quiet! Be good! Shoo!”
Getting her out of sight would be absolutely impossible if she didn’t want to work with me, but as her tail disappears through the doorway I quickly seal the basement stairs. Taking a deep breath I turn around for the front door.
Knock knock knock!
“Sam? Carey? Are you here? It’s Frank!”
His voice is muffled by the closed door but enters easily through an open window. Sam silently glares at me and motions for the door. She moves to take my place at the entrance to the basement, leaning against the door and holding the knob still while I go to answer our front door and likely much more.
I unlock the door, turn the knob, swing it open, and before I can process it I’m suddenly hugged.
“Carey, you’re okay!” Frank excitedly greets into my ear. After a moment he realizes that he has grabbed a woman--even his friend--and backs off. His alleged actual girlfriend snorts and chuckles from behind me.
“Ah. Sorry. It’s been a rough few days...” he sheepishly trails.
No weird angsty love triangles here; we’re all grown adults. I smile and return the hug once more, happy for the continued human contact and return of a friend. I can clearly sense that he is a bit awkward on it so I reluctantly let him go before speaking.
“It’s good to see you too, Frank. I’ve had an interesting time of it but from what I hear you’ve been pretty busy. Come in.”
He anxiously takes my lead to our living room and I catch Sam’s grimace out of the corner of my eye. Belatedly I realize my mistake... and so too does she, following to not arouse suspicion. Only the basement lounge door has a lock on it--not this one. Having entered first I take the initiative and sit down in a chair so he and Sam can be on the couch--the couch which faces away from the hallway.
“So,” he states professionally. “I hate to kill the mood, but there are a few things we need to go over. First of all, a tow truck retrieved yours and it’s in the shop. The cops are keeping your phone for a while for some reason but other than that, things should be fine.”
He glances uneasily to Sam.
“...Aside from the dead guy and other issue, but... yeah.”
Her weary look morphs to one of shock as she sideyes me before speaking up.
“Frank, what are you talking about? Did something happen?” Her eyes never leave mine as she speaks. “This is the first time I’ve heard anything about a dead guy.”
To my horror the doorknob slowly turns in the background...
“Ah, well...” Frank waffles. “There were a few missing campers, and apparently the police found a body near Carey’s truck or something. That’s all I know.”
Sam notices my distant stare and subtly turns to check the door, brushing her hair aside to cover it. The hinges are well-maintained so the door doesn’t creak as it begins to swing free. We lock eyes as Frank continues bidden by our silence.
“Right. Expect an officer or two to stop by at some point to take your statement. That’d be a good time to ask about your phone.”
I fake clearing my throat to cover the door hitting the stop. “Cool, great, thanks for letting me know. And stopping by. How about we get lunch? Like, right now? Maybe at Mom’s?”
“Carey...” he says with confusion as he looks past me to a clock on our wall. “Lunch was hours ago. It’s going on five. I came over to see if you had plans because nobody answered the home phone and Sam didn’t text me back.”
Emeral lithely rises from below as he speaks, her feet softly padding across the carpet. Her eyes are locked on the back of Frank’s head and I feel the urge to warn him but quash it down, afraid of opening that particular line of questioning.
“I think that’s a great idea, Frank,” Sam decides. “We could leave right now and spend time with Mom.” She wraps one arm around behind Frank.
Frank smiles back at her. “I didn’t expect you to want to come, but that would be great. It could be like a second get-together just for the family after last week’s.”
Frank thankfully doesn’t see the looming creature at his back as he looks to Sam beside him--likely only because she’s right behind him. Her head lowers and her jaws part slightly before sealing, nostrils lightly flaring as she sniffs with her eyes wide. I clear my throat again and Sam waves her arm behind him, shooing our indefinite guest away. Emeral thankfully retracts and makes no repeat of hours prior with Sam.
I bolt upright and clap my hands. “Alright! That’s a great idea, let’s do that. Sam, you finish what you were doing while I talk to Frank in private real quick.” Before he can respond I grab him by the forearm and haul him up, pulling him towards the dining room.
“Woah, Carey! Is everything alright?” he asks. He’s about to look back towards Sam who is carefully herding the alien back out of sight, but I tug him along first.
“Is this something she’s not supposed to hear?” he conspiratorially whispers to me. “Or about the ‘dead guy’ thing? I don’t think we should keep secrets from her-”
“No no, don’t worry! I was just helping Sam with something when you arrived and it’s pretty time-sensitive is all!”
“Uhh, alright then. So what did you need to talk about?”
Many things, but there’s few that I can. Thinking quickly I grab one I actually did mean to talk to him about.
“I just wanted to thank you for being there for her. I can’t imagine what it was like considering what apparently happened that day.”
His face twitches through multiple emotions before landing on what I best read as ‘awkward pride.’
“Ah. Yeah. You can thank your mother for breaking the ice on that.”
Of course. Well, it worked out anyway.
...Except for one thing that just now occurred to me.
“Hey, sorry but- we actually can’t go to the Grillhouse now that I think about it. My friends are coming over, so we do actually have dinner plans tonight.”
His expression shifts from pride straight to the awkward.
“Oh. Well. Ah...” He glances back the way we came, seeing no Sam nor alien. “That’s... well, they’re your friends, right? It’s more of her decision to come or not-”
Except now she comes sweeping back in, clearly having overheard the last bit of our conversation. “Right, yeah! Sorry Frank, I can’t come either. I need to support my sister and help her get things ready.”
He frowns. “Well, in that case I could help too-”
“Frank, girls’ night,” she exasperates.
“Oh, right! Sorry! Hey, are we still on for tomorrow though?”
Sam gives him a cute little side-hug as a flash of emotion goes through me. “Yeah, of course!” She turns to me. “We’re having a nice fancy picnic for lunch.”
I feel my heart swell with pride over my little sister, all grown up as I momentarily forget that we need to get Frank out of the house. Sam doesn’t and forcefully brings him around with her grip on his shoulders.
“...Which is tomorrow, and I know you can’t wait for it either but we need to prepare.”
The knob is twisting again as the three of us pass by but Frank either doesn’t notice or doesn’t comment. With swift goodbyes we send him off and I shut the door, the two of us releasing stress and worry with our breaths. A monumental weight falls on my shoulders as I feel an arm pull me back, Sam getting the same treatment. Emeral’s face ducks in from above as she sniffs her.
The alien looks between her and the door before looking back to her, saying only one thing:
“Yours?”
A/N:
And now Frank is in the picture. In this chapter I wanted to evoke a sense of awkwardness. This is actually a trend I am deliberately aiming for with anything to do with Frank--he’s a nice enough dude but he does not fill the trope of being the guy everyone can rely on to be cool under pressure and always know what he’s doing. He makes mistakes, he isn’t instantly super experienced in social settings, and he has his own feelings on things. In the latter half of this chapter he is obviously suspicious of how his two friends are acting, but knows it would be rude to call them on it so he doesn’t because there’s no visible need to.
Despite the first actual sex scene being a lesbian one, this isn’t actually a lesbianism-focused erotica. Which is probably hard to believe because three of the four main characters are female and one is actually a lesbian, and another is clearly down for it. This does slightly spoil story direction but I will say that there won’t actually be a single female-on-female scene in the rest of the book; Chapter 12 was the only one.