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 58: A New Way Forward

---

A/N:

These past few chapters have been extremely slice of life compared to those which have come before and shall come after. I really wanted to depict a time of happiness for Emeral. She’s been through quite a bit and experienced a lot both on Earth and back home, and trust me when I say that she’s going to endure a whole lot more before we’re done.

However... sometimes when writing these recent chapters I’ve worry that I’ve screwed up the tension of the story. It starts its rise as per usual at the beginning, rises through Arc 1, plateaus at Arc 2, and the tension becomes intermittent during Arc 3. For Arc 4 it’s actually fallen in a lot of ways due to Emeral’s time with her new family, although it actually simply translated into a time of introspection for her. I feel that in Arc 5 after its initial ‘everything is great’ chapters the tension will start to rise once more as reality asserts itself and Emeral faces new challenges.

Honestly, in retrospect? I could claim this book as done right now; chop the final third or so of Emeral’s story into another book, but... there are just too many loose ends to tie up. It would solve any tension issues by providing a full-stop where a new story could begin again from the plateaued tension but I just don’t think it would be what’s best for the book.

But, I’m happy to say that I’ve learned from writers in similar issues and won’t be reasserting the tension to where it would ‘logically be’ without the plateau by having a giant spike. If I’ve done my work well then the story won’t crash into that painted tunnel.

For now? She’s happy, she has friends, and she has a home. We know that she’ll face more difficulties fitting in and living in her new world, but thanks to her new family she’s the best prepared she can be.

Emeral has done some terrible things she’s barely begun to atone for, but that’s for later. And no, this isn’t going to be one of those torture-porn ‘the writer abuses the hell out of his protagonist you’ve come to care for’ things. Unlike some writers, I actually know how to manage reader expectations and set a tone, though I will say that the divided and themed arcs system I’m experimenting with can screw with that tone a bit. Ultimately, the story can get dark at times but Emeral is the scariest thing here.

...I will say though that the third book of the series is going to be a tragedy, though for a different character in a very different setting.

I’ll also say that in retrospect, I used the word ‘but’ in this chapter a lot.

---

I finish picking my teeth clean of bone and gristle and move to join my family around the tree--

“Wash your filthy hands!” Carey orders.

Bah. I change directions to the kitchen and its sink and rinse them free of saliva and then make my way over.

“Do you mind if me and Sam give each other our gifts tomorrow?” Carey asks me on approach. “That way we won’t have to wrap them back up, and we can just show you them tomorrow night.”

Carey is standing by the tree and the two piles while Sam is seated in a chair. I take my place carefully across the not reinforced couch before replying.

“No care,” I say. “Here for my gifts. You have other family.”

I don’t need to be there to experience the joy of their exchanging whatever odd human things they’ll have. While my new sisters are my sisters, they are also new--it would be wrong of me to come between them and their mother, and my Sam and her Frank, much as I find it all somewhat disappointing. One day they too shall be my friends.

And besides: those presents do look nicely wrapped. You can’t give a gift twice.

“Mine first!” Carey insists. She pulls out a very large but light box and hands it to me beaming in expectation. Sam watches on in amusement as I study the package and its strange wrapping presumably meant to resemble flowers. It’s quite pretty... but sometimes we need to rip open nature’s beauty to tear out its tasty innards.

Unlike meat destined to fuel me I actually care about the integrity of its contents so I slice with care along the wrapping’s taped edges. The skin comes free with ease and beneath I find... a nondescript box. There’s a white label on it covered in a mess of letters and numbers but that’s it. Turning it over reveals its sealed flaps which just are just as easily sliced through to unveil...

A... brown fluffy creature?

I hold it out in my hands from its temporary abode and study the thing. It’s the size of a small human child, made of soft and furry brown cloth, and seems to have quite a bit of give to it. Unlike the turkey, this stuffed animal probably doesn’t have spiced bread and vegetables in it. What is this?

I give my Carey a shocked and confused look only to be blinded by a flash! She chuckles and lowers her phone, my expression morphing to a glare.

“Sorry! But that look was priceless. Giant alien, meet giant teddy bear!”

‘Teddy...’ bear?

I... suppose that it looks vaguely like one of the bears I encountered months ago. But what is it for? It’s almost like...

...a pillow!

I give it an experimental hug and find it quite nice even against my sense-dulled plates. This is indeed quite nice and I love the feel of my hands over its fur! It accepts my heat readily and will be nice to fall asleep hugging. I already had a spare full-sized pillow for my head, but now I’ll have two! It isn’t turkey dinner but this is a great gift. I’ve seen some far smaller ‘stuffed animals’ before owned by Sam and Carey--mostly Sam--but this one would be overwhelming to even an adult human... but for me?

It’s perfect.

A smile comes easily to me as my sisters look on. Once Carey gets over her weird squeeing, she pipes up once more.

“It’s lonely when we’re at work so I got you a friend,” she explains. “Also: it’s tradition that you name a stuffed animal and I can’t choose for you. You don’t have to right now, but everyone needs a name.”

I perk up. Humans don’t have the ability to tell each other apart by scent, nor can they willingly communicate by it, so everyone does need a chosen name; Carey gave me mine, and so too should I give my new little friend one. Obviously the stuffed bear isn’t a living creature, but I suppose that the name would still matter to me.

Let’s see... it reminds me of a particularly warm brother everyone used to like sleeping against when we were children, so it’s a he. He’s neither unkempt like Shaggy or slow like Laggy, but he is still a bear.

I give him another hug. He's like a bag to keep my warm in. I shall dub thee...

“Baggy,” I answer. “Baggy the Bear. Very good gift. Thank you, Carey!”

“Not done!” she exclaims before pulling out yet another present. This one has also been wrapped but something seems quite off about it. It’s a rounded rectangle that’s... bent and dented? No, wait, just like my new bear it must be soft and stuffed!

Carey gives my claws one look and frowns slightly. “...I’ll open this one for you, if that’s fine. It’s, uh, a little delicate.”

I nod and wait patiently as she cuts the tape free with scissors and hands me the gift to unwrap. Predictly, I find a full-sized pillow like the sisters have on their beds for their heads. It’s large, clean, and smells fresh, unlike the ratty old tiny one I took from...

...I grimace. From the humans I murdered.

I’m definitely glad to have a new one. The bear is for hugging, the pillow is for... heading.

Already Carey has given me two great gifts. Mine to them will be one of emotion and ideas rather than possessions. For that family I wronged, it’s truly a shame I can’t gift a father and make things right. Tonight is supposed to be a happy occasion for us, but I just... I can’t truly move past what I’ve done. My thoughts coalesce; things I’ve seen ebb, flow, and mix together, what-ifs, would-bes, and could-bes are born.

Every one of my victims surely had some family. Beyond the utilitarian nipping at the edge of the vast herd, there would be others connected to them. People who will miss them. People who could give and be given gifts and take joy in their lives, because humanity is more than a herd, and more than even us.

Humans... are friends. Humans are family, and I have made humans sad. Humans who could be my friends, humans who could be my family, even if some would obviously want to hurt me just for existing. Back home, rare creatures were a delicacy to dine on, let alone hunt.

...It’s what caused the war in the first place. My old self would have considered it a mercy to return days later and... finish the job.

I hug my bear tight and feel a few tears flow. I can’t ever make things right. You can’t give a gift twice, or give any once it’s too late. I can only be better.

“Emeral? Are you okay?” Sam asks.

I open my eyes and release my death-hugged bear. He’s slightly flat now but his stuffed nature leaves him fine.

“...Yes,” I reply. “Very good gift. Happy. But did think bad memories.”

I spot Carey move to try and comfort me like the good family she is, but Sam beats her to it. The younger, diminutive woman smiles reassuringly and gives me a hug. Hugs are good.

“If you ever want to talk about it, we’re here for you. You’ve helped me a lot, so let us help you.”

I nod and she pulls away. “Not now. Christmas is for happy.”

Carey sighs. “Just don’t bottle bad feelings up like Sam. The whole reason she’s gotten better was because things lined up right to pull my head out of my ass, and you’ve been a good friend to her.”

Personally, I don’t think I’ve really done much, but... Sam and Carey both keep insisting that I’ve done something to help the young woman. ‘Social anxiety,’ they’d told me and tried to explain. Too much isolation as a child, too used to being alone, too scared to do. I can only suppose that simply being around her as someone new and extremely different has made her more open to new situations? It’s a human problem that I can only barely begin to understand, coming from such a communal origin.

With Carey’s gifts given, next are Sam’s. She disappears downstairs to her room and returns carrying an overflowing ball of white and yellow fabric. Wadded up as it is, there is no way for me to tell what exactly it’s supposed to be, but I can spot plastic rings and hooks occasionally embedded within it.

“Alright, Emeral, we’ll need space for this one. Come stand over here,” she beckons. I rise and step over to the open foyer hall and judge the mass. She rounds me and plops it down on the back of the couch to begin unfolding whatever it is.

Carey watches on with a mixed expression. “That’s going to be difficult to manage. Are you sure you got the measurements right?”

“Yes,” Sam grunts. “And I can easily adjust it anyway, or even expand it if she keeps growing.”

The older and formerly overbearing sister looks desperately like she wants to help, but grits herself instead. Sam eventually finally figures out whatever this thing is and holds out the strangest bed sheet I’ve ever seen.

The ball has been laid out across the couch and its back to reveal swathes of white and yellow cloth with a texture that reminds me of the curtain which blocks water from getting sprayed out of the bath tub, or perhaps ones for covering up windows. The hooks and rings reinforce the appearance, with the rings being large enough for a curtain rod, and the hooks able to drape over said rod. Is this for some giant bath she’s built me?!

“First things first,” she starts, pulling out a few noticeably different white pieces. “These are panties. You’re going to start wearing them and I’ll teach you how to use the washer and dryer.”

I eye the crude gift. They’re very similar to a human woman’s ‘panties,’ but they are of course significantly larger and are shaped quite a bit differently in order to accommodate my different body shape and possession of a thick tail. Rather than ride up against my loins like a human’s would, they’re actually more like skirts. I bodily shrug, smile, and present a hand to receive the gift.

Sam hands it to me... and I just glare at it as she blushes. “Carey... can you...?”

She turns around. Carey honks a quick chuckle and strides over, grabbing it from my hand on approach.

“I’m supposed to be the lesbian, and yet you’re the one squeamish about seeing other girls nude!” she laughs. “Emeral here has been naked for months and you don’t see me getting all blushy!’

She gestures for me to sit back and I do, splaying out my legs and tail to give her access. Out of respect for the moment I don’t try and entice her.

Sam remains standing with her back turned. “I’m gonna be honest here,” she starts, “I’ve never been able to look at her the same way after the ‘Icky Licky’ incident. It’s what gave me the idea in the first place.”

After figuring out which end goes where, Carey threads my legs through the holes and brings the cloth to my body. She has me roll back over and ties up a strip atop my tail before patting me on the haunch and smiling at a job well done. I give her a winning smile as Sam peeks to check.

“With her decent now... I’ll help with the rest,” she concedes. “I did make it, after all, and it’s a little bit complicated.” The two get to work fighting with the giant shower curtain to get it... over me? It isn’t a curtain and there won’t be a me-sized bath, it’s a me-sized dress!

Giddy with excitement at a strange new thing, I stand and allow them to dress me. Folds of linen cloth are draped across my back, rings are hooked, and even a strap is tied at my lower belly. Carey starts taking pictures while Sam explains her gift.

“I placed the hooks and rings so that they’re in pairs and can be secured to each other. It isn’t very good but it does what’s needed and is less likely to come undone. I did my best to balance freedom of movement and warmth, so it’ll protect your body and cover your modesty but shouldn’t get in the way of your arms and legs. There’s also a strap on your... waist,” she shrugs, “that I’ll teach you how to tie later too.”

Carey looks pleased with the results as Sam continues. “It’s a weird mix between a toga and a dress. The hooks and rings keep it from hanging freely and the strap keeps it taut to your belly while allowing for it to be a bit loose. I’ve never done more than patch up clothes here and there so it’s pretty crude, but... it’s so large that you can’t really see the stitchwork and I get the feeling that you won’t particularly care.”

Carey shoves her phone in my face and begins to display the photos she’s taken. It’s still quite strange being able to see myself, but I have to admit: I do look good! The yellow and white compliment each other even if they do really make me look like I had trouble getting out of a really large bath tub, and it all comes together with my natural earthy brown to give me the appearance of a flower.

A clumsy bathroom flower, but my awakening artistic sense still insists a flower.

“It’s linen fabric so I got it pretty cheap,” she elaborates further. “...In the form of two old sets of curtains at a garage sale. The panties are brand-new cotton cloth I cut, stitched, and hemmed myself, but the curtains were cobbled together with a lot less, uh... eh, I did my best.”

I lunge forward and hug her to my new clothes far gentler than I’d hugged Baggy. “Thank you, Sam. I am a flower!”

Carey bursts out into laughter as Sam herself actually gets lost in a curtain. She pats my side in submission and wriggles free before gesturing to my new clothes.

“...Normally the linen wouldn’t be the most comfortable because it isn’t meant for clothes, but it does the job. Since you’re covered in armor and scales anyway it shouldn’t be too bad. That’s why I used new cotton cloth for the panties... they’re in a, uh... more delicate position. You really don’t want rough cloth scraping back there.”

She’s clearly nowhere near as good at sewing as she is at cooking, but the gift of clothing means just as much as dinner had. It was made with her heart’s actual power and that’s what matters most to me. Humans need clothes for comfort and protection whereas I don’t, but having a bit more to protect me from the winter chill will certainly be nice.

Plus: wearing it will make her happy and not keep giving my rear disturbed glances! The color is terrible for hunting, but I wouldn’t really be able to hunt in the winter anyway and I won’t need it outside for the coming season of spring.

“I like the colors,” I remark. “Thank you for yellow. White good with. Cozy fashion. Not naked. Great gift!”

But, I look past her and find there’s still a pile of fabric left on the couch. She follows my gaze and perks up.

“Oh, right!” she exclaims before retrieving and showing it to me. It’s a long strip of white cloth folded over and hemmed with itself, made more complex with yellow patches speckled across it. “I had a bunch of scrap material so I made this! It’s a scarf!”

She happily wraps it around and over and under and up my neck before taking another picture and presenting it for me to preen over. The ends of the scarf dangle down just right from their looping mass; it only really covers my neck’s base but it’s still quite nice. Is this how humans attract other humans? Fancy clothes and making oneself look ‘fashionable?’ It’s stranger than beating each other to near-death or beyond, but would certainly be less... hmm...

...Destructive, I decide on. I’d only ever watched from the sidelines but it was hard to tell whether the fighting or the fucking caused more damage to the grounds. Neither acts would be kind to such nice accessories either way.

“Thank you!” I smile and, already having given her enough physical affection for the day, extend a bunched fist for a bump. She returns it with her tiny little knuckles and her tiny little smile. “My turn,” I warn as I depart for the stairs.

Wearing clothing is quite a strange feeling. They almost feel constraining but the bagginess and lack of restriction on my joints keeps the dress from becoming uncomfortable. As for the panties covering my ‘lady bits,’ it’s going to take a little bit of getting used to but my hips don’t need to move around as much as my shoulders do. Ultimately, the clothing is similar to Baggy in that they trap my heat and keep my cozy, which is nice... when I don’t need to exert myself.

But, I find my thoughts returning to that increasingly present instinctual demand and learned desire: get someone to fuck with! As I learn more about humans and their ways it’s looking more and more like Sam’s Frank will be off the field despite the fact they’ve yet to consummate. I doubt Sam would be willing to subject her Frank to my affections even if they were purely carnal and lacking familial attachment. That’s okay but disappointing.

My Carey could be absolutely perfect, but... she hesitates. I wish nothing more than to both be happy and make her happy for all she’s done, and the sisters insist I’ve done much to help Sam, so why not reward each other? The younger sister is taken and definitely did not respond well to my teasing, but Carey... I will try one last time. Perhaps she will come around, or perhaps she may have other humans she may introduce to me. Either way works so long as we’re all happy.

She helped me despite her fear, she brought me into her home, and she has given me fruits. She gave me Sam, and inherits all that she has done--including how much both have taught me about their world. I am not without gratitude, and surely she would recognize this? She is picky and fickle in what she wants and almost seems to have been suffering the opposite problem of Sam.

But, that is for later. I’ve already made my gifts and they aren’t only for her. My Sam has cooked and spiced my meat, she has taught me how to better acquire the best pieces, and sometimes even reads things for me! I’ve learned much from the two and have much more to learn still. Human friendship is my way forward even if in the past I’ve made it hard. Friendship and understanding is how my people could--and I will--grow. My mundane excitement quashes any lingering horniness and I can’t wait to present my works!

Ah, here they are. I pull two pages free from a box of my art before moving to the cabinets and retrieving the gift of the night. I tuck the sheets into my scarf, leave my third gift by the door, and maneuver my way back through the annoyingly thin home.

Both of my friends give me looks of curious expectation tinged heavily with confusion. I hand each their page with no small amount of pride as I observe for their reactions.

“Um... what’s this...?” Carey questions, intently studying the color-filled and primitive ‘painting.’ Sam is silent but her eyes light up sooner.

“You drew this?” Sam asks in surprise. “Holy shit...”

Carey too gapes in shock and awe. These two gifts were my finest works, and I spent many hours planning them out in pencil, adjusting the lines, reiterating better versions, and finally settling on the best that I could ever do with crayons alone.

Carey’s is a ‘landscape’ style featuring the lowest and largest of a small series of waterfalls descending from the mountain. It depicts an area that I had passed through on my initial journey; a place known as ‘Myra Falls,’ according to a ‘park’ map. Greens, browns, blues, and greys dominate and support each other within the piece.

Sam’s is the more exotic of the two and was harder to make because my memory is fuzzier of the location and I didn’t have access to it for reference. Rather than representing the beauty of their home, it shows the beauty of mine: a landscape bearing an alien flower-filled grove surrounding a spring of clean water, all framed by tall and decidedly not thin trees. Greens, browns, and blues are aplenty within it, but purples, yellows, reds, and too many other shades are represented. No one color is dominant and neither is any feature as all parts flow to create majesty.

Their expressions of amazement are almost as great as dinner was. The monumental effort to dissect and learn from coloring books otherwise for human children has paid off. Every line had its place, every color had to be perfect, and though the shading is pretty much non-existent... it works.

Carey is the first to break from her stupor, and not from lack of attention. She gives me a wide smile and radiates pride. We both know that I couldn’t have unleashed my potential without her advice and material help.

“This is amazing!” she exclaims. “Okay, we definitely need to see what you can do with actual painting supplies! And here I was worried about your self-confidence! This is absolutely getting framed.”

I grin ever-wider and puff myself up. Sam pauses her study to voice her own thoughts.

“It’s... surprisingly good, yeah,” she mutters before catching and reasserting herself. “Get me a frame too. I was worried about Carey’s gift making mine look cheap, but... I guess you and I have both done a great job of making the perfect gifts from, uh, simple materials and tools.”

I give her an admonishing nod, very aware of my wonderful new clothes. “Yes. And would like paint, yes. But not done!”

Their new looks of confusion and interest are transformed by my creativity into a desire for more as I leave to retrieve my hidden masterpiece!

My inspiration came from an unlikely source: an explanation on what various fabrics are--such as the grown cloth, sheared wool, and processed leather--and some very old stories from Mother and her travels.

Back home rumors always abounded of unique individuals descended of strange parentage who would be born with something ‘more’ unlocked. Be they stunted in growth but great of mind, in possession of strange limbs or features, or even an unnaturally strong carapace, they would always either become great and powerful warriors or die young from being ill-suited to Kin life.

But, aside from fat-skinned counterparts in the cold north, they were always rare. While two of a similar breed consummating would often result in their features being passed on, whatever that old blood is just isn’t strong enough to carry itself forever. The so-called ‘Shedders’ of myth were one such example of a... less enduring lineage awakening.

Their plates and scales would simply fall off, leaving them with neither our armor or the northerners’ thick fat reserves. According to Mother, the instinctive reaction was to believe them ill, but... unlike my stinging and scabbing plateless breast, they weren’t really affected by it and it was quite normal. Mother met a few in her travels but their routine problem of having their armor fall off all the time meant they were terrible at fighting and thus unable to protect themselves very well.

Back home? That would be a death sentence. But here?

Food goes in, plates come off, and money comes out. A similar concept applied for this but unlike wool I had to do things a bit more like leather. But that’s fine; it’ll grow back anyway. I grab my removed and improved plate from my room and return back upstairs with my greater gift held delicately in my teeth.

I find both awaiting transfixed for my lumbering return, their eyes lighting up the moment they see what it is I hold. Curious stares shift to ones of brief horror before I reach the coffee table, clear a few things off, and set it down for them to marvel at.

And marvel they do! Carey and Sam rise in shock to find...

---

...It’s her missing breastplate!

But more noticeably, it’s been decorated with a very stylized and primitive scene of a snowy and sleepy Gold River from a mountainside. The interior of the plate has been cleaned and its exterior appears to have had white paint or primer spilled over it as a backdrop of snow so that a very dedicated alien could draw all over it in various colors of giant crayon.

She didn’t get hurt at all, she turned it into an art piece!

Emeral watches us both but singles me out as I meet her eyes.

“Sam? Think of what?” she asks critically in her somewhat broken speech.

I briefly return to looking at it and working to form an opinion untainted by the whole thing of this basically having been her skin. Obviously it’s crayon on crudely spilled white so the quality really isn’t that good--and I can still see a few pencil sketch-marks if I really pay attention--but for a huge creature many, many times my size and weight with crayons?

The intent and budding skill contribute greatly to its quality. It’s even better than the pieces she made for me and Carey despite its macabre canvas and I really can’t help but share in Carey’s pride or be infected by Emeral’s eagerness. This thing screams ‘I want to do the best I can to make something amazing with what I have,’ and it truly shows.

That’s what Christmas is all about anyway, right?

“It’s... very unique,” I stumble out. “I really like it. It’s a very Emeral present, but I do like it a lot.”

Carey bears a slight frown as she looks up, eliciting a similar thinning of Emeral’s pleased appearance.

“...Is that paint?” she inquires.

Emeral gives a quick nod but I chime in before either can continue.

“This plate came off of Emeral and that’s your first question?” I scoff.

The alien’s smile returns full force despite our doubts.

“I found in my room. I took out to forest, dumped on plate, let dry, then drew!” she explains.

I give Carey a look for apparently not alien-proofing enough. Emeral has always given milk and shampoos strange looks; it’s a miracle that the smell must have turned her off and she didn’t drink it. At least she’s stopped trying to taste us.

“It must have been left-over primer,” Carey supplies. “Probably from before we first moved in.” She thinks a moment before continuing. “I’m going to need to check and see if there’s anything else down there for her to get into...”

But for some reason, Emeral twinges over Carey’s hindsight!

“No worry! Is fine! Nothing bad in cabinets!”

Well that’s suspicious...

I share a knowing look with Carey and a thin awkward smile before turning to Emeral and asking the alien-in-the-room question:

“So... how and why did you pull what looks like a part of your outer skin off to paint and give as a gift?” I ask and summarize. She looks almost miffed for a moment so I quickly continue! “I mean, yeah to give as a gift--and don’t get me wrong I do like it!--but it just seems a little... dangerous? To hurt yourself so badly over a gift?”

I can’t help but look at her month-missing eye as I speak, even with her story of it having been punishment for getting a bit too friendly with some random person.

“It must have really hurt, and it means a lot that you’d go through that to try and make us happy, but it’s worrying, you know?”

She bodily performs an imitation shrug and taps a clawed finger beneath her eyepatch. “Will grow back. Even-to-all-y.” She pats her scabbed chest and cringes. “Was plate that protects-ed heart. Sym-bo-lism of big trust and safety!”

...Her speech is breaking down a bit. She’s smiling, but while she might not realize it she has her tells and Carey notices too.

“Well,” she begins. “I’m glad to hear that your English is improved enough to explain something like that,” she changes topic. “I’m glad you trust us so much and hope that you’ll talk to me first before touching any more weird stuff in the basement, right?”

Emeral nods emphatically. “Yes! Wise from Mother, wise from Carey.” Her speech comes easier again. “But still not done! Flip over!”

After a moment of reaction Carey takes initiative--and advantage of her fitness--to lift the heavy plate and maneuver it over and around to reveal the final part of her present. There on the other side in crude scratch marks filled in and splattered with primer are the words: ‘Thank you Carey and Sam. You are my friends.’

“Awwwwww...” I can’t help but utter as my heart melts. Carey gets up and gives her a hug... but Emeral does the unthinkable and gropes Carey’s butt! She yelps in the embrace and does her best to push Emeral away--which gets allowed amid much disappointment on her alien features.

“Okay... so...” Carey tries awkwardly. “I guess we do need to address this.”

My mind goes back to the ‘Icky Licky Incident’ and I cringe. Emeral is many things, but slick is... ew ew ew actually one of them in the worst way ever!

The entire situation has been unfortunately turned awkward but Carey seems determined to right things as she straightens her spine and speaks with confidence I can only envy.

“First, I get it. I understand. But I’m sorry Em, I just don’t see you that way...”

...Emeral’s face falls and she slouches her shoulders...

“...but I get it, and, uh, I know you have needs. We all do, and I want to help you...”

...she looks up with intent and something in her eyes...

“...but! I can’t help you ‘in that way,’” Carey finishes off. “You’re... well, there’s no way we could be partners.”

Emeral pouts again briefly before looking thoughtful. Oh boy, this was not what I expected to end this night off with, but I can definitely see it being something that’ll be far funnier later...

---

I grin mischievously and move to rise. “But just sex? Some humans do, you say.”

Her’s cheeks go red and she shakes her head vehemently. “Hah, no. No. Maybe you’ll understand one day, but sex is more than that... or at least, I want to believe that it is, and that’s part of the problem here,” she elaborates. “I think that it should mean something. Casual sex leads to drama and ruined friendships most of the time and it just wouldn’t work out. Plus... you’re nowhere close to being a human, Em. And... you’re maybe like another little sister; you did call me a sister after all.”

I huff and flick my head away. Her loss. Perhaps other humans may be less picky as my Carey.

“Yes, I like women,” she states. “And no, I'm not seeing anyone right now. But I just don’t see you that way. We’ve only known each other for a few months but you really have become like a little sister to me, and... I’ve literally had to be your ‘role model older sister.’ We’ve talked about the subject of casual sex, and I maintain that I’m not interested unless there could be something more, and, well... that would change our friendship in a way that I really don’t think would be healthy for either of us. Is that okay?”

Lacking in a human upbringing to feel any shame over the matter, I square myself and soldier on strong, the glint in my eyes replaced with one of resolve and calm confidence.

“Okay, understand. Will no more try with you. Thank you, Carey,” I say. “But help how?”

I’m going to need to find some way to handle ‘what’s to come.’ I can instinctively feel my cycle will come around in a few months, and though I definitely won’t be having children now, that won’t change the fact I’ll be fertile and cranky. I’m just glad I don’t go through it so often like humans do... though I won’t have the upside that comes with. Normally for the month I can handle my hormones making me want to jump the nearest untaken example of manly strength, but I’m a lot larger now and way more physically mature!

Worst of all, I’ve tasted orgasms now! It’s going to be so much harder and all I could have here is myself or whatever human I could recruit. I’m certainly not going to jump some random one after everything I’ve learned... if what Carey, Sam, and their television says are true, humans are simultaneously more and less sexual than my people. I’m just as likely to get shot as I am to traumatize some poor and easily broken little man with a penis too small to work best.

If only I’d handled things differently with that hunter... he’d have been perfect, capable where it matters to me. He even proved himself resilient and resourceful!

“I... don’t really know,” she begins. “Um. A few months ago I could maybe have tried setting you up with Frank, but Sam finally got talking with him, so that’s a thing.”

I pout, but understand. As disappointing as the thought is, maybe things won’t work out between the two--but Sam always looks so happy after her dates with him. I really can’t help but feel some jealousy over what she has and will get.

...Said woman, meanwhile, scoffs and shakes her head to herself as if thinking of something absurd.

Still in consideration, my Carey continues. “It’s pretty obvious you’re at the least okay with women. Is that common where you’re from?” She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter right now. While I may not personally agree with it, I know a few people who could be, uh, ‘up for it.’ But the problem there is actually introducing you and not causing problems. I have a few exes who things didn’t work out with and while I knew them well, I knew them enough to say they’d run for the hills from you.”

I sigh and settle back to my spot on the couch. Things truly were so much easier back when I thought I could just find any human and... well. Do what I wanted. But that’s not right, and wouldn’t really get me what I actually need.

Companionship. Love. A more physical family. Even love and children are probably out of the picture, so carnal fun will need to do. At least many years down the line I can have nieces and nephews to watch over for my sworn sisters.

“...It’s okay,” I tell her. “Have ideas. Will figure out.”

She smirks. “I hope you’re not as picky as I am, at least. I don’t know many guys either, but if we can get Frank in on things he might know someone freaky enough to get nasty with your crazy ass. Maybe that Richard guy Frank has a beer with every once in a while.”

I nod along. I would indeed be perfectly comfortable--and even prefer!--a man to do ‘freaky’ things to my... well, figurative ass, not the literal bum part. That would be extremely strange.

Apparently some males--or rather, men--have sex with each other. That was particularly rare back home, but I never did learn how they would actually do it. Two penises, no vagina, and definitely no children to pass strength on to. Very odd. At least they were dedicated hunters for the old and infirm.

“Eh. I did promise I’d introduce you two. I’ll start broaching things with him, feeling him out, all that. Let him know about us having a roomie, maybe show him some of your... ‘avant garde’ art... get him prepped that you’re nothing to be scared of.” She gives me a reassuring smile. “How’s that sound?”

...The idea of risking my creations with those who may not be able to appreciate them gives me pause, but my sisters trust their Frank enough to perhaps allow him to give my Sam babies without first having beaten any other suitors to death. I’ve also observed and smelled the man and he seems dependable and indeed very good at making Sam happy. At least another friend would be perfectly acceptable, though from what I’ve seen he doesn’t look to be as durable as my Carey.

“Yes,” I assent. “But later. Not... good look now.” I gesture down to where my missing plate would be beneath my clothes, and tap the orbit of my regrowing eye. I’ve found that humans are particularly sensitive to visible wounds and injuries they consider grievous. Normally I’d consider it a sign of weakness, but I’ve come to learn that it’s actually a trait of considered solidarity.

She nods and Sam looks on wistfully, perhaps hopeful for her growing family to meet and make up. Said would-be Frank-fucker speaks up.

“Great idea. I’ll try talking you up to him too. In the mean time...” she glances to Carey. “You’re the one teaching her sex ed and everything she needs to know. The last thing any of us needs is alien S.T.D.s spreading around because of her.”

This prompts a face from Carey who scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Yeah. Whatever. Gonna have to start from square one since her people are cave men.” She notices the clock and her eyes widen. “Damn, really? Okay, time seriously flies, we’re shelving all of this for later, I need to get started on chores.” She wears her best shit-eating grin and bows to me with maintained eye contact. “Thank you for your wonderful presents, Emeral... and I dearly hope you get fucked.”

She snorts and leaves to do whatever noisy Carey things need doing. Sam just sighs at her joke--one which I can actually get for once! Normally it’s a human insult, but in reality she joins me in wishing for an outlet. Or, well. An input for my outlet, to borrow more silly human terms. As for which, at the end of the day it depends on who I can get my claws into.

I smile and subconsciously chuckle as my smirking Sam turns to address me.

“Damn, now I can’t get that strange and concerning image out of my head,” she scoffs. “Carey making you Frank’s problem, and me pimping my boyfriend out to my alien.”

‘Pimping’? I don’t know that verb yet but the context around it is obvious and even more confusing. I might have completely misunderstood the relationship between the two humans, but that makes no sense given what Carey has told me.

“You would let me casual sex Frank?” I ask in disbelief.

But, all at once her relaxed look turns leery as she sits uncomfortably.

“Uh. No. That was... just a joke,” she tries to explain, finding it difficult to really meet me eyes. “I mean, I haven’t even gotten there with him yet, and... he’s my boyfriend. And it would be weird.”

I snort and give her a four-eyed roll I’d been practicing for a moment such as this. “Bad joke. But is okay. Do not need your Frank.”

The flustered woman sighs and flops over her living chair. “Sorry. You’re both familiar and... not. Which is normally great because I’m terrible at talking to people, but sucks when you miss some little human bit of expression. Like sarcasm.” She takes a moment to stew and consider something before finally trying to voice her thoughts again.

“Although... hm,” she grunts, pursing her lips in a way that I have to remind myself doesn’t mean dismissal before shrugging bodily. “Hey, why not? The idea’s stupid because I don’t own him, but maybe he’d be okay with it. I could see what he thinks and if he’s up to the task of helping you feel special... he’s certainly done a good job of that for me over the past few months, and that was in the romance department. I’d keep the dates, you’d share the-”

She breaks into a giggling fit. “...the dicks! Wait, no, that doesn’t work. It wouldn’t be plural...”

I squint and give her a glare of suspicion and even a little bit of judgement. Just like my own people--though differently--humans give quite a bit of weight to monogamy. From what I’ve gathered and from what Carey has told me, it’s to do with both the actual proper passing on of strength from rightful father to rightful mother and the security of an emotional bond--friendship beyond friendship, and the unity of two to trust and perpetuate one’s people together. I don’t have the experience to say but I would assume for a people who place far more emphasis on feelings and emotions, the trust and friendship is more important... and from what Carey has explained to me, getting in the way of that gets in the way of family.

She begins to wither and squirm under my lasting focus. I will need to pay very careful attention that she doesn’t make any silly mistakes with her Frank and upset him--perhaps these complications are why humans may have multiple partners in their lives to begin with. Sex is fun, and casual sex could mean lots of fun, but I would not have one of my friends ruin her future for that. I will have nieces and nephews if I can’t have kids of my own!

“Carey said that ‘casual sex leads to drama and ruined friendships,’” I recite. “‘Most of the time.’ Do not risk you for me,” I order her.

She takes a moment to look guilty and regretful. My shy Sam eventually lets out a long sigh and somehow cringes even harder into her chair!

“...You’re right,” she mutters. “Too many bad romance novels. I’ll... be careful, and take your advice.”

I give her a winning smile of my own reassurance, slip upright, and move to pick her up in a hug she accepts before consoling her. “Seen too many husbands and wives come home without other in war. I know im-por-tance. Makes children sad. Makes sisters sad. Frank has made you happy, yes, but not yet made you children.”

She squawks and ineffectually beats a hand against the intact side of my chest. “Emeral! We-... we’re just dating! Right now! He’s my first boyfriend and I don’t even want to think about stuff like that yet! I just think it isn’t fair that you’re probably never going home and you probably won’t find love!’ she blurts before immediately regretting it...

I tighten my hug to silence her whining, but she goes silent for other reasons as her own words catch up to her. I crook my neck around and find her actually looking a little bit panicked!

“Emeral! I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that!” she tries. “You’ve got us, and we’ll help you, and-”

I give her another hug and nudge my head against hers, ignorant to her spluttering and completely unnecessary defense.

“I know,” I tell her. “I know. Already knew. Lost much home. But got much here. New home. New friends. New family. Maybe no love, but... happy.”

I grab her by her shoulders and twirl her around with a full-toothed grin! “Christmas!” I present to her! “Family! Presents! Clothes! Even no gift love, gift happy.” I end my words with a one-armed hug and tousle of her hair.

I’m starting to get it now, what they meant about me ‘helping her.’ I can be her big sister like Carey hasn’t been great at. I can support her, I can watch on as she makes babies, and perhaps if she becomes truly secure with her Frank, and that said man is willing... perhaps I too could have my fun.

“I believe in you. Love Frank, think self-feelings more, do not offer me your boyfriend. Offer my family, and we see.”

I can feel her vibrating within my arms as her heart beats fast, and reluctantly allow her to struggle free. She turns to me red- and shame-faced and tries to speak for a moment before giving up and walking off with one last look of resignation... and acceptance. I too take my leave and return to my room with Baggy the Bear and my pillow so that I may rest and digest all that has happened on this wonderful and provoking day.

I set Baggy and my new pillow down on my mattress before delicately unwinding my scarf to set aside followed by unhooking my ‘dress.’ I grab my new pillow and move to replace my smaller old one, but... when I touch it I’m assaulted with memory.

This was not always my pillow, but it was no gift like this and the spare had been. I did more than steal it; I murdered a human like a monster from their movies would before stealing his wife--or girlfriend?--and devouring her whole and alive, unsympathetic to her broken and... unconsenting... state.

I didn’t earn this pillow through righteous battle... I instead disrupted love and earned my difficulties in earning that desire. The thing even smells only of me now thanks to Carey’s many insisted washings, but it will always be a reminder. Disgust wells up within me as my touch turns to grip and I consider throwing it across the room in petty emotion, but I let it fall from my hand instead before setting it aside.

I don’t want to use it... but I also don’t know what to do with it. I can’t un-eat them; what they once were is a part of me now and their graves are shallow things in the woods. No one, not even my new sisters, will ever truly know what happened to them. They don’t even know that I’ve done such an act, and I shudder to consider how they may reject me if they knew.

The only way is forward. I can’t run from my mistakes, but I must learn from them and be better. This day has indeed been extremely provoking as thoughts and concepts wrack me, but I am Kin and if there is anything we’re unfortunately good at, it’s taking, digesting, and growing.

But it won’t be all I’m good for. I was wrong, but I truly have taken on their human strength:

Compassion.

END OF ARC FOUR

---

A/N:

Emeral has chosen to fully embrace change and she is a significantly more mature person from who she was at the beginning of the story. As for her new ideas, she will continue to be tested repeatedly on the rest of her journey, and how she responds will further cement who she wants to be.

With that... Arc 4 is finished.

Emeral has finally found a home for herself, but as she begins to truly settle in, the waves she has left in her wake are bound to one day return. She may have found peace and something to fight for on Earth, but she has left many loose ends for those around her, and for the reader, many questions without answers. The more perceptive will have noticed a few oddities among the Harper chapters--the meaning behind those will be revealed in the next arc, Investigations.

She has found her place but now she has to work to keep it, and the price for failure may come with dangers and opportunities both.

Anyway, author insight time.

Something important to note is that while Emeral has come to regret her actions and to a degree even grieve for her atrocities, those feelings are ‘just’ an approximation from a creature that is in the process of learning empathy for those not of her kind.

On top of that, she's a monster from another planet but she's still a person and she got really lonely without particularly realizing. The idea that she pushed everyone she could be friends with away really got to her because Kin are way more communal and social than humans.

Additionally I wish to note something important. Arcs 1 through 3 all ended with a sex scene, though Arc 2 simply had a non-canon chapter inserted at its end to cover that. This arc however does not have a sex scene at its end, nor even in it. The closest that came to remotely erotic content was Emeral eating Abigail, but that’s only erotic for vorarephiles and wasn’t written to be a crappy wank-fic, it was depicted to advance the plot, not be erotic in and of itself.

There’s no non-canon chapter of a sexual nature for this one because I don’t have anything to shove in there. There wasn’t a sex scene for this arc because it wouldn’t make sense for the plot at all. Sure I could probably shoehorn in a non-canon Emeral x Carey F/F chapter taking place after Christmas, but... that just isn’t their characters, and I feel that at this point in the story it would dampen upcoming chapters in Arc 5. It would purely be porn for porn’s sake.

Chapter 18b was a concrete ‘what if’ that could have happened and been canon. Meanwhile, Emeral x Carey would be a major departure and just isn’t what the story is about and--again--would only serve to devalue Carey’s character. They’re friends, and that’s it, as far as canon is concerned. Carey’s character ultimately just doesn’t fall into ‘romantic interest’ despite Emeral trying--Carey is a big sister, and she’s the big sister Emeral has needed.

But! There will be two sex scenes in the next arc because it’s the natural progression and payoff of the story; this big message is all because these scenes and this type of content are not the point of the story insofar that it’s an erotica, it’s there to serve the story and advance the plot. Just as the scenes of Chapters 50 and 51 weren’t shitty wank-fiction, neither is the greater story surrounding it.

Managing reader expectations is extremely important for an author. It’s been a worry of mine to accidentally tease an Emeral x Carey on the meta level, so I’ve addressed it on-page and in my notes a few times.

Thank you for coming with me on this story about a lost alien finding what she never knew she needed, but it isn’t anywhere close to being finished. Emeral’s plans for Frank may not be so ruined after all--they’ve just been made significantly more complicated and delicate. Also, we’ve still not heard anything about her would-be first victim, and Inspector Harper is working to piece everything together.

The time has not yet come, but Emeral’s world WILL be getting a whole lot bigger, and after that?

Perhaps even her world will be too.