War has devastated planet Earth. Only a few pockets of humans survive, and even then, it’s a meagre existence where famine and disease are common and surviving each day paramount. All hope for humanity is dwindling. The Earth is dying.
Unexpectedly, a strange alien race, giant blue furred beings known as the Teathans, offer assistance in a way no human could have ever contemplated. Humans are to be cared for like cherished toys, as it is the Teathan’s goal in life to look out for others.
Greg Scott is one of the first chosen. He’s provided food, shelter and affection from his alien owner. Everything he has ever needed is his every whim. He has found paradise on Teathan and humanity has a new hope.
Everything is perfect until Greg’s owner is visited by his friend and a love that shouldn’t exist between the aliens is revealed. Will Greg’s utopia be shattered once the truth gets out? Will he be forced to return to Earth? Or will something unexpected happen? Will Greg come up with a solution, both unorthodox and oh so very human, to solve the aliens’ dilemma?
Anton had retrieved a pair of army-style shorts out of a chest of drawers, holding them up. “These are so cute. You’d look good in these, Greg.”
Greg stood up. “Sure, why not. Dress me however the hell you like. Heck, put me in a pink tutu if that floats your boat. I’m your action figure, after all.”
The Teathan seemed to ignore him, his interest on other things as he slipped the shorts onto Greg with great care. “Your anatomy is a little different to Jarrod’s, from what I’ve seen,” the Teathan mumbled, his concentration clear.
The Teathan poked a finger onto Greg’s stomach, but did so without hurting. His fingernail alone was huge, the size of a garbage bin lid at least and a brilliant blue. “You are more muscularly defined and your genitals are a different size. I want to ask, are all humans different in such ways? And why do human males have their genitals on the outside of their bodies, doesn’t it hurt? Wouldn’t it be more practical to have such a sensitive part retract into your body until needed?”
Greg returned the cigar to his mouth while Anton dressed him in his army clothes. “It only hurts if someone kicks or punches me in the balls without warning. Bedsides, without seeing this Jarrod dude, I can’t say if my cock is bigger or smaller than his—’cause I know that’s what you mean, Anton buddy. But for me, I’m perfectly normal, that’s all you have to worry about.”
Anton slipped on Greg’s shirt, buttoning it up nimbly considering the size of his hands. “Jarrod’s penis is bigger.”
“Ouch, way to hurt a guy.”
A flash of confusion crossed the Teathan’s face. “I don’t understand. I was very careful not to hurt you while I put on your clothes.”
“What I mean is, a guy’s dick is his pride. By saying another bloke has a bigger cock than mine, you hurt my pride.”
Anton looked concerned. “I’m so sorry. I will repent at my next spiritual meeting, asking for forgiveness from my priest for being so disrespectful to you and your body. Please understand I am still learning. Please forgive me.”
Greg let out a laugh and slapped Anton on the back of his hand with as much affection as he could muster. “Don’t worry about it. You’re forgiven in my book. Now, let’s get some sleep so tomorrow we can go outside and interact or do whatever it is we’re supposed to do. I want to see these famous forests and living cities of your world.”
A knock on the door startled them both. Anton let out a gasp, while Greg, cursed under his breath. The hour was late. Who could be at the door at this time? The evening meal had been consumed, and really, as far as Greg understood, they were getting ready to settle in for the night.
“Enter,” Anton said.
Another Teathan came into Anton’s bedroom, one Greg hadn’t seen before. It was an older adolescent male, the developing chest fur in a contrasting orange to the blue which covered him and the sprouting eyebrow ridges a dead giveaway. The Teathan male carried a human. A human dressed as a doctor—lab coat and plastic stethoscope visible.
“Anton,” the Teathan said.
“Donnal,” Anton said, his voice husky and an octave lower.