Alien Protector's Christmas Captive by Viki Storm

Author:Viki Storm [Storm, Viki]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-10T16:00:00+00:00

A few days go by and early one morning, there’s a knock at the door. I’m already up, working on my little Christmas project using the materials that I asked Zav to bring me. I almost poke myself with the needle in my haste to stash the stuff under the blanket, as not to ruin the surprise, but when the door opens, it’s not Zav. Someone else comes inside, someone very green.

“Hello?” she asks.

The voice is very clearly feminine, but from the shape alone, I’d never be able to tell what she was. She’s some sort of alien, green skin and rotund, joggling belly. She looks like if you gave a first-grader a green crayon and told them to draw an alien. Even her eyes look crooked.

“Uh, hi,” I say.

“You’re awake,” she says, “blessed Blackness.”

“No one’s more happy about that than me,” I say.

“And him,” she says, pointing at the sleeping baby in my arms. “Oh, and him,” she says, smiling slyly and cocking her head towards the door. “He never left your side the whole time,” she says, then, lowering her voice, “though I wish he would have, at least long enough to visit the bathing cabinets.”

I let out a laugh, and it feels good. “Hey,” I say, something just now occurring to me, “how come you speak English?”

“English?” she asks. “What’s English?”

“The language you’re speaking,” I say. “You’re speaking my native language, English. It’s a common language on Earth.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she says. She is at the sink, running water. “You had a language implant installed while you were out.”

“Installed where?” I ask, but I think I know the answer. She points to her head. “Okay, yeah, that’s what I thought. What’s your name?”

“Even with implants, no one can pronounce it correctly,” she says, “so you can call me Hemmy. It’s close enough.”

“Alright, well, thank you for helping us, Hemmy,” I say.

“I told you, your male did almost everything for the little chap. I had little to do with it.”

“Thanks anyway,” I say.

“Sure thing,” she says. “Now, put the little fellow into his crib, time for you to wash.” I wrap him up in a blanket and, winning the fifty-fifty, when I put him into the crib he doesn’t start crying immediately. What follows is an awkward sponge-bath, but I do have to admit, it feels good to be clean.

“There,” she says. “Now you can go out today.”

“Go out where?” I ask. “Like leave the hospital?”

“Just for a walk,” she says. “Zav instructed me to get you and the little fellow ready.”

The baby did not enjoy his bath, screaming and turning a weird shade of red-purple. “Tsk,” she says. “Cut that out, you didn’t scream like this for Daddy.”

“Zav bathed him before?” I ask.

“Oh, yes,” Hemmy says. “He did everything for this little chap. Bathed him, changed his diapers, changed his clothes. I tried to help, but he insisted. I tell you, there’s no doubt about it, Zav is completely devoted to his family.”

“I know,” I say, thinking how lucky I really am.

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