The electric hum of the overhead lights had once induced headaches, but after a year, the steady drone had a hypnotic effect on the nineteen-year-old High School dropout. The bright lights illuminated everything in the convenience store; so bright that the recently expired Oreos no longer cast shadows.
Xander was beyond bored. His wasn’t sure when his boredom had achieved epic level, but he was sure it was around the tenth hour of his twelve-hour shift at the Gulp-N-Pump. The convenience store /slash/ gas station was open twenty-four hours, but Xander had yet to understand why. He could count the number of customers he had after midnight on his dick. The counter was the only thing keeping his fatigued legs from giving out. He struggled with the urge to close his eyes for a little nap. The moment he closed his eyes would be the exact second that Old Man Ferguson would walk in and fire his lazy ass.
There was plenty that he could be doing to keep busy. The milk case needed purging of out of date gallons, many of the tight aisles of snack cakes required dusting, and as much as he wanted to unplug the video game Klingons from Beyond Uranus—Ferguson wouldn’t let him. It ate every fourth quarter, but the boss didn’t care. “If someone get really pissed, refund their quarter,” he instructed Xander. Despite all the things he should be doing, he couldn’t find the motivation to do anything.
As his heavy lids drooped, a flash of light demanded his attention. The glass wall that gave a perfect view of the twelve gas pumps lit up with white light. The sudden illumination was so bright that everything disappeared. Thinking that the pumps had exploded, Xander ducked behind the wooden counter. When his vision returned, he popped up to inspect the damage, but to his disappointment there was none. The pumps were unexploded, as was the glass of the window wall.
He walked over and pressed his hands against the window. He peered into the darkness beyond the electric lights of the gas station hoping to spot the cause of the brief display.The forest beyond the road was dark, but Xander thought he saw a faint pink glow emanating from the woods, but his eyes might have been playing tricks on him. He looked from the forest to the stars hoping, praying, for something to save him from the mind-numbing boredom of the Gulp-N-Pump.
The chime above the door rang announcing a customer had arrived. Xander woke from his prayers, turning to get a look at the late-night customer. Whoever it was, they didn’t have a car.
What he saw caused his dry lips and throat to begin to salivate, his palms to begin to sweat, and his sudden throbbing erection to threaten to explode from his Wranglers. She was sex forced into a plastic costume that was two sizes too small. She was a tube of toothpaste squeezed at the middle, threatening to burst at the top and bottom. Long black boots stretched to the mid point of her thighs, at which point her furry flesh took over for a few inches before reverting to the pleather shorts that barely covered her legs. All that ended in a perfect upside-down V. And if her body wasn’t hot enough to turn on the sprinkler system, her face was positively divine. Her round eyes had no lashes and instead of white eyes with blue, green or brown circles around black pupils, she had yellowish green eyes surrounding oblong pupils of pure black. Her nose was pert and came to a delicate point. Her mouth had no lips, but it was beautiful nonetheless. To complete the catlike features, she had four white whiskers extending from the sides of her mouth. “Out of this world,” he mumbled.
She spun to face him, her body in mid crouch caught between fight and flight. Her fingers spread out, he could see each of her delicate digits ended in razor sharp claws. “Hey, pretty mama. I ain’t gonna hurt you,” he said in calming tones with his palms extended.
She said something to him; it was harsh and sudden and like no language he had ever heard. She said is again, and began to back out of the door. “No, wait!” he said, louder than he intended. “Please don’t go.”
She waited there in the open doorway, her whiskers quivering, her body tense. Her pointed ears changed position and she tilted her head listening. Half turning away from him, she sniffed the air. Xander took the opportunity to gaze adoringly at her plump, yet firm, haunches. Her taut legs went from slender ankles and calves to powerful thighs to rounded buttocks that reminded him of two perfect Snowballs with tight cellophane wrapping.
Without warning the cat lady spun and ran straight at him! She put one hand on his shoulder and put her face close to his. She said something that sounded like a question. He jumped back when he saw she was holding a small gun. “Hey lady, I don’t want no trouble,” he said with his palms out in surrender. “No trouble. Me Xander,” he said touching himself deliberately. “Xander.”
She held the gun out to him, trying to put it in his hands. He tried to refuse, but she pleaded with enough desperation to rekindle his pulsing boner. When he took the weapon from her she pointed to the counter, saying what sounded like, “Dib shew! Dib shew!”
Crouching behind the point of sale display, Xander looked at the tiny pistol. It was made of black plastic and the trigger had no guard. He waited there, holding it in two hands, afraid to accidentally touch it and set it off. At this point, a slight breeze might cause it to explode.
The cat lady said, “Bee shin fooz.” Without moving, he said, “I’m ready.”
The door chime rang and several sets of heavy boots clomped into the store. He could hear the intruders breathing, the sound was loud and mechanical like a scuba tank or a generator. An electronic voice said, “Bezhaw neew enz, Spece Pziey!”
“Zander, felt!” she shouted. Without contemplating what he was doing, he sprung to his feet and began firing at the figures in black armor. Three blasts of green energy slammed into them, in turn, dropping them where they stood.
The cat woman shrieked with joy, jumping into the air and clapping. “Gud nirf, Zander!”
Aghast, Xander walked around the counter and examined his handy work. Each of the black-garbed aliens had red insignias on their shoulders that looked, to Xander, like military markings. “Shit, did I just shoot some space cops?”
His doubts faded and his manhood enlarged as the cat lady pressed herself against his side in a warm embrace. He turned and said, “What do I call you?” She grabbed his hand and began to urge him toward the door. “Xander,” he said pointing at himself with the still-hot laser pistol. “Xander…” he pointed the gun at her. “And you are?”
She put her other hand on her breast as she pulled him through the door. “Me neyet, Spece Pziey!”
“Space Pussy?” he said, as she pulled him toward the forest. She nodded enthusiastically. “That’s perfect.”
Jan-Ives Campbell 