Mus Numena 10: Know Better (Patreon)

Aurora instantly began excitedly examining everything in the room, in the same fashion she had at his apartment last night. (God, had it only been last night?) “This is so different from where you lived. I wish we could drive around the whole world.”

“I’ll settle for figuring out sleeping arrangements for tonight.”

She pointed at the bed. “That is what those are for, isn’t it?”

He laughed uneasily. “Yes, but—”

She dropped onto the bed, stretching out on her back. Even as big as a king-sized bed was, her paws extended over the edge by half a foot. “I’ve never been on a bed before.” She closed her eyes. “I like this.”

“Well, that settles it for you. I guess I could…” He trailed off. No, he couldn’t sleep out in the car; it would be near-freezing overnight. Maybe just freezing, period.

“There’s enough room for both of us.”

“Yes, but,” he began, then rubbed the back of his head. How should he finish that, exactly?

She sat up. “Does sleeping with me make you nervous?”

“It’s, just, you know, men and women, who aren’t, uh…” He sighed. “Maybe I’m being both old-fashioned and human-centric.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about again.”

“I know.” He waved a hand. “We’ll make it work. Our next task is figuring out how and where to get dinner. It’s a little early, but it might be wise to avoid any crowds.”

“Would it help if I returned to more normal human size?”

“A little. We’ll still attract a lot of attention if you’re not wearing real clothes. Your fake jumpsuit was clever, but doesn’t make you look that much less alien. And, well, they have to not look too closely at you.” He scratched his cheek. “It looked like there was some kind of touristy general store across the street. We could check that out. If you want to be smaller.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “You sound…” She furrowed her brow. “Unhappy? Disappointed?”

He cleared his throat, and offered a slight grin. “Maybe I think mice should be bigger than humans for a change, too.”

Aurora stood up and slowly walked toward him until her chest almost—almost—touched his head. She put her hands on his shoulders. “Good.”

His breath caught. It took a moment to muster another uneasy laugh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to seduce me, Aurora.”

“Seduce?” Her gaze grew unfocused.

Ted swallowed. That joke might have been a mistake.

Her eyes widened as her gaze refocused. “Oh.” She smiled again, letting out a giggle herself. Did she sound nervous? She didn’t say anything else.

He let out a breath, stepping away. “If you want to risk it, we can check out the store across the road.”

“I do.” She stopped by the door, crouched—and started to melt. What in the hell—

No, not melt, but flow, just like—yes, goddammit—the robot in Terminator 2. Mass drained off her into a shimmering, swirling cylinder that grew rapidly over several seconds.

And as it grew, she shrank. The mouse shimmered and swirled, too, her form rippling as she lost mass.

When the cylinder stopped growing, she waited until the shimmering stopped, then stood up, now about five foot eight. The cylinder looked like solid metal, just a couple of feet high. “There.”

“Wow.” He walked over to the cylinder; he could feel heat coming off it.

“That’s what we get when we shed mass. I could make it into other shapes, maybe, but…” She shrugged.

Getting through the parking lot and across the road without attracting attention was surprisingly easy; Markleeville didn’t have a high enough population to rate even a single stoplight. Unexpected side effect: when the Markleeville General Store sign read “general store,” it meant actual, swear-to-God general store. There were a few small clothing racks near the store’s front, fortunately, albeit mostly the low-quality, touristy stuff he expected.

He fake-browsed near the front door until the clerk, a gangly kid who didn’t look old enough to drink yet, turned away from his direction, then waved Aurora in. She hurried, silently, to the clothing area with him. “Here,” he whispered, “pick out a pair of shorts and a T-shirt that you like.”

She looked at the racks in mild confusion. “They are…different sizes? I am not sure…” She looked behind her. “And what about my tail? It won’t fit into any of these.”

“Right. Uh—” Wait, were those footsteps? Oh, no.

The clerk had just walked over. “Can I…” He trailed off, stopping dead in his tracks, staring at Aurora.

Crap. Think. Maybe the advanced makeup story? But would he believe they’re merely passing through yet in costume? That’s a stretch. Come on, come on—

“Hi!” Aurora said brightly. “I’m a Dynamouse.”

Ted and the clerk both stared dumbly at her.

“We’re like a cross between humans and mice, but I don’t have any human in me. That’s not important. What’s important is that I need some clothes. Can you help? I don’t want to stand out so much. What do you think would look good on me?”

“I… I…” The kid looked her up and down, clearly simultaneously registering her as terrifying silver alien creature and hot naked woman. “You… can… these?” He gestured at the clothes. “I… purple?”

“Great!” She picked up a purple T-shirt with a logo of a California black bear, held it up to her shoulders, and slipped it on. It hung on her frame loosely, although it stayed snug around her ample chest. “And shorts?” She turned around, pointing at her butt. “I need to figure out what to do with my tail.”

Ted and the kid both stared at her butt. It was a very nice butt. Spectacular, even.

“You… elastic?”

She looked around, then looked at Ted inquisitively.

“Like this,” he said hesitantly, holding up a pair of bluish grey shorts with an elastic band. “Can you figure out a way to hide your tail?”

“Maybe,” she admitted. She took the tail, and pressed it down against her fur, running her hand along its length as if sealing it to her rump and one of her legs. It disappeared into her fur with a ripple.

“Holy shit,” the kid breathed.

She took the shorts and studied them, then leaned over, carefully putting them on and slipping them. “I tighten them in the front with these strings?”

“Tie… tie a knot,” the clerk said.

“A knot?”

Ted stepped forward. “Like, uh, like this.” He reached toward her, gingerly, and took the strings, managing an awkward bowtie, acutely aware of how close his fingers were to her hips and inner thighs.

“I see.” She smiled.

“Now all you need is…” Ted looked around, then headed over to a hat rack, picking out a wide, floppy hat. He brought it over. “It’ll hide your ears.”

Aurora pouted, but put the hat on. “Hmm.” She looked at what she could make out of her reflection, and spun around. “How do I look?”

The kid looked around the store. “This is some kind of prank video thing you’re doing for that furry con in Reno, isn’t it?”

Aurora tilted her head. “What’s a ‘furry con?’”

“So,” Ted said too loudly, “you’ve been super helpful but let’s check out and be on our way now.”

As they walked out of the store—Aurora now dressed—Ted looked at her with a mix of shock and amusement. “That was very smooth of you.”

“Smooth?”

“I mean, you stepped up and took control of the situation. By telling the truth, which I’m ashamed to admit I hadn’t thought of.”

“I didn’t tell the whole truth. I do have human in me.”

“You don’t—oh.” He coughed, giving her the side-eye.

She flashed an apologetic grin. “Too soon?”

“How are you picking up on idioms I haven’t used in conversation?”

She tapped the side of her head. “You know that I look things up.”

“Right.” They walked along the road back toward the lodge, but kept strolling past it through what little there was of the town. “When we meet other people, you probably shouldn’t joke about being a supernatural predator who eats humans.”

“I know.” The buildings they passed were mostly two-story structures with sharply pointed roofs, quintessential mountain cabins. Only one restaurant out of the two in town—not counting a brewery that looked as if it had gone out of business a couple of months back—was open for dinner. “Although technically, I haven’t eaten a human yet.”

“I do not like how you keep saying ‘yet.’”

Aurora giggled. “You just said I was a supernatural predator. I have a reputation to live up to now!”

“I did not—oh, forget it.” He laughed, shaking his head. “At least I’m not seeing people do double-takes as they drive past, so maybe this disguise works when nobody’s looking at you too closely.”

“Do you think we could have dinner in that restaurant?” She pointed back at the one they’d walked past.

“I…” Ted looked back at it. It had a decidedly fancy air for such a small-town place; this was close enough to attract tourists from Lake Tahoe, if the restaurant had a good enough reputation. So that meant table service, and definitely meant people noticing his dining companion was a human-sized mouse woman. “You know it’d be incredibly risky. Even with the clothes, you’ll stand out. People will take pictures. With location data.”

“I know. I know.” She bit her lip (argh, cute), and looked down at the ground. “But… Soon, I won’t have this chance. If things go as well as they can, I still get taken away. We still probably never see each other again.”

And, of course, he’d be hauled off to jail until his lawyer—assuming Hammer even agreed to take the case—got him out. Aurora was crushingly right. Even so, it wasn’t worth the risk, just to show her what a nice restaurant was like, just to go on a…

He swallowed, looking between her and the restaurant. “It’s early for dinner service, so we might have most of the restaurant to ourselves.”

Her eyes widened, and she broke into another meltingly cute grin, clapping her hands together.

Stonefly’s dining room decor was all casual country cabin, from the mismatched wooden chairs to the huge old-fashioned sideboard with the “Love What You Do” sign nailed over it. And, as Ted had hoped, it was entirely empty. It took a few seconds for the hostess to show up; as she took them both in, Ted could almost see the circuit short behind her eyes. “Can…I…help you?”

“Two for dinner?”

She froze, gaze canted to the side of Aurora as if consciously trying not to stare. “Of course. Right this way.” She picked up two menus and led them to a two-seat table by a window, smiling stiffly. “Your waiter, Terry, will be with you in a minute.”

As they sat down, Aurora picked up the menu, studying both sides curiously. “Calamari,” she murmured, as if sounding out the word. “Shishito. Crispy…polenta.”

“We can order an appetizer or two to split between us, and a main dish for each of us. Do you like…” He chuckled. “Maybe we should just try a few new things for you and see what you like.”

“Please.”

Shortly, Terry came over, a tall, clean-shaven man with tousled black hair who moved in an exaggeratedly animated style. Unlike the hostess, he never lost his smile. “Welcome to Stonefly! Is this your first time here?”

Ted nodded. “Yes.”

“It’s my first time at a restaurant,” Aurora added.

Terry stopped, tilting his head at her. “Well, great! I…” He held up two fingers. “You’re not really one of those super science mice-people, are you?”

“I…” She glanced toward Ted, confused.

“It’s as good a description as any.”

“Oh.” She smiled sheepishly.

“Wow. Okay. This is insane, but lovely.” He waved his hands. “If recommending the baked brie appetizer is some kind of horrible stereotyping, I sincerely apologize, but it’s genuinely good.”

Ted laughed. “Sure, we’ll get that and the shishito peppers, and…hmm. I’ll get the pork chop, and she’ll have the pasta with sausage and chicken.”

“Excellent. I know a good sauvignon blanc that would go with both, if you’d like to split a bottle.” He paused, putting a hand to his cheek. “If she can have wine.” He looked at Aurora inquisitively. She, in turn, looked at Ted.

“Uh, sure.” He nodded again.

“Wonderful.” Terry clapped his hands together gleefully and headed off.

“He looks absolutely thrilled to be serving a mouse.” Ted chuckled. “I can’t blame him.”

Aurora cocked her head to one side, then gave him a piercing look. Ted ran through what he’d just said in his head again and coughed, looking off to the side.

As he’d half-expected, Aurora loved literally everything. The pastry-wrapped, honey-drizzled brie, the peppers and their chipotle aioli, the pasta shells tossed with chicken and sausage and artichokes, the pork chop with its cherry walnut chutney. The wine was, to Aurora, a revelation. He hoped he hadn’t gotten her drunk. Ted had to admit it was all terrific—even the cheese, which wasn’t usually his thing. Although fancy restaurants weren’t his thing in general.

Hmm. Was that true, though? He’d stopped going to these kinds of places after the break-up with Lucy, but he’d gone with other friends before they were dating. Hell, he’d gone on his own before they were dating.

After they split a dessert of peanut butter pie, they walked back across the street. Aurora stopped in the back of the parking lot, looking toward the west. “What’s changing the light that way? The sky’s color is so…warm. Orange and copper.” She looked toward Ted, but before he answered, she looked back up with a smile. “It’s a sunset.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never seen one.” She watched, clasping her hands in front of her. “Some of the other mice have, a few of the personal companions. But the humans they’re with don’t…” She trailed off, just looking at the clouds.

Don’t let them look out? Don’t think about this? “Don’t treat them as people,” he murmured, standing by her side.

“No.” She turned to look at him. “They don’t.” After several moments, she smiled, and walked back toward the room.

When he closed the door behind them, slipping off his shoes, she stripped off her clothes and headed to the metal cylinder she’d left, hefting it up effortlessly despite its weight and holding it to her. It disappeared the same way the porcelain doll had—except that all of her rippled as she took it in, rapidly flowing back to her seven-foot height. She breathed deeply afterward, back arched, eyes closed. “Mmm.” Her tail pulled free and flicked back and forth.

“That’s…” Ted shook his head, sitting down on the bed. “I’m not sure how you make that look so…that way.” He cleared his throat.

She walked toward the bed and sat down by his side. “That was a lovely dinner date.” She drew him into a soft hug.

His eyes widened, and he looked up at her. She met his eyes with a soft smile, and a hint of a challenge. Go on, pretend that’s not what it was.

He nodded, returning her hug gently. “It was.” He tried to ignore that butterfly-in-stomach feeling.

Aurora tilted his head up toward hers, and lowered her voice to a murmur. “If I wanted to seduce you now, would kissing you be a good start?”

The butterfly in his stomach became fucking Mothra. “I don’t—know if that’s—”

Her lips touched his, softly, hesitantly, and held a light kiss for several seconds.

“—a good idea,” he finished in a breathless whisper.

“Why?”

“I…” A dozen reasons flitted through his mind, but the most honest one stayed behind. “I don’t want you to do…anything…because you feel like you owe me.”

She drew back, considering that, eyes unfocusing for a few seconds. Then she smiled down again. “You’re worried you would be taking advantage of me.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not. I’m worried I might be taking advantage of you.”

“What? How?”

Aurora shifted on the bed, facing him fully. “I’m bigger than you are.” She put her hands on his sides, gently guiding him to lie back. “And stronger.” She grinned mischievously. “And a supernatural predator.”

“O-o-oh—”

The mouse put her hand down to either side of his torso, her head over his. Actually, her prodigious chest over his head. He had to tilt his head back to keep meeting her eyes. His heartbeat skipped and resumed at about twice normal rate. “So I could do anything I wanted with you. You’d have to place a lot of trust in me.”

“I…uh…t-take your point.”

She moved one hand to his chest, resting her fingers against a shirt button. “But I’ve never done this before,” she added seriously. “Will you guide me?”

Oh my God you’re a virgin but you’re dominant but you’re a mouse but I am already so wrapped around your paw.

“I’ll try,” he whispered.

Smiling, she stretched out next to him—all but surrounding him—and began unfastening his shirt buttons.