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I Was An Alien Love Machine

by D. H. Willison

Not an actual machine, of course. Those things are fun at first, but get repetitive after a while. At least, from how I’ve heard friends tell it. It’s a local expression I’d picked up on my LARP adventure. When I signed up to become a swapper, I didn’t specifically plan on romance. I was just sick of modern technology and wanted to live somewhere life was simple for a while. Earth wasn’t my first choice, but the surgery necessary to fit in on Yegnad II looked… painful.

I’ll spare you my early misadventures; mixing up soy sauce and coffee at a diner, discovering that ‘getting laid’ didn’t pertain to eggs in quite the way I’d surmised, things like that. I’d had my ups and downs that first month, experienced local culture, participated in numerous customs, and even managed not to get arrested for any misunderstandings which were completely understandable and/or not my fault. I was presently engaged in a practice known as ‘regretting one’s life choices at a drinking establishment.’

“Ya know, work is the same slog everywhere in the galaxy.” My tongue tingled from the rum and Coke, as I gazed vaguely in the direction of the bartender.

“I hear ya, buddy.” He restocked lime slices and cherries into decorative pots behind the bar. “So, rough day?”

I sighed. “Boring day, actually. I mean, I knew coming into this that pranks and office hijinks were the exception, not the rule, but everyone’s so serious all the time.” I’d studied pop culture transmissions preparing for the trip. I knew entertainment broadcasts were a reflection of culture, not an exact representation. And there was the multi-year time delay to account for, but damn, what a disappointment.

I swirled the ice around my glass. “Harder to make friends than I thought it would be is all.” And romantic relations? That was a whole new level of complexity, which locals didn’t seem to talk about with strangers.

The bartender shrugged. “A lot of folks bond over activities. You know, like cosplay.”

I snorted at the idea of an alien disguised as a human cosplaying as an alien to make friends. “Yeah, I haven’t looked into all the different human activities yet.” I winced. Human activities. The drink might have been loosening my tongue a little too much. “Ever feel like you made a mistake and are just a little too average?”

He shook his head. “’Bout every damn day.”

I stopped myself from downing the remainder of my drink, and asked for a water. My species was subject to the mind-altering effects of certain substances, just like humans.

I’d chosen an average human male for my disguise with an eye to fitting in easily. Humans seemed to put great significance on some aspects of their appearance, but not others. Fur color, for example, was a common descriptor, despite the fact that many people dyed said… hair. They called it hair. Mine was an innocuous medium brown shade. I was statistically above average in height, but not enough to draw attention to myself or endanger my head on low fixtures. Even my build was so average that most garments my size actually fit me, apparently not a thing which could be taken for granted. A statistically middle-of-the-road appearance for the region I was in should have worked in my favor, should have let me do all the typical things humans do.

It didn’t work that way. “Average is the new mediocre, amiright?” I took pride in getting in a bit of local slang.
“If you’re looking for companionship, there are a couple of way- above- average ladies to your left.” He nodded his head in their direction.

A glance revealed he was right. From their sleek legs, graceful curves, lustrous long hair, and clothing and jewelry that accentuated every feature, the pair were hot.

Figuratively speaking. Humans were technically all the same body temperature, which was, oddly enough, somewhat below the galactic average.

I shot them a friendly smile.

It went totally unnoticed.

I sighed, slumping lower, head propped atop my hands. I thought I’d gotten used to this sort of response, but it still stung. Though I came into this not fully understanding human preferences in aesthetics, local media quickly ‘educated’ me. I’d learned the hard way these past weeks, blundering into situations where one of the locals was what they referred to as ‘way out of my league.’

These two qualified.

I was about to turn away when a snippet of their conversation startled me into an alertness I’d not felt in weeks. ‘Alien romance.’

Had I heard that right?

It was repeated half a minute later.

I had to know.

I probably shouldn’t have interjected. I was likely setting myself up for another disappointment, but with inhibition-reducing substances and all… “Excuse me, sorry I overheard you,” I punctuated an even tone with a friendly wave. “What was that about alien romance?”

The closer of the two, in a cream blouse and thigh-length black skirt, answered, “Just a book, nothing for you.”
I suppressed a cringe. Nothing for me? Did I look like I couldn’t read? “And it’s about an alien… and a human…”

“Aliens,” corrected her friend. “And there’s lots of books. It’s a hot genre.”

“Aliens,” I repeated, trying to sift through my confusion. The galactic cultural consortium saw to it that humans never saw any actual aliens—well except for me and a few other swappers, but we looked human. Point was, pop culture imaginings of alien appearances were generally not flattering, to say the least. “And you find them attractive?” The idea was baffling… yet stirred hope in some part of me that had been beaten down.

“So sexy,” said her friend. “There’s this one species who have this…” she snorted as her friend poked her in the ribs with an elbow. “Let’s just say they have all the right equipment.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to process. Trying to be an average human had netted me short on friends, no casual hookups, and romance was way out of the picture. But now… being an alien was a good thing? “And you can find these books in…”

“Bookstores, duh.”

“Thank you. You’ve been… helpful.”

I stood, downing my water, then realizing it was actually the rest of my rum and Coke. My brain tingled, but for the first time in weeks, I had a plan. I had hope.

---

I hadn’t been into a bookstore on this world, as it seemed books were going out of favor. As it turned out, there was a Knight’s Shed Bookseller in the same complex. It was supposed to close in just under an hour, but that should be enough time. My gaze darted around the mostly-empty store, a few customers sprawled in armchairs, noses in books or magazines. A woman at the counter glanced up, acknowledging my existence with awkward eye contact.

It was cozy—well, corporate cozy, at least, with splashes of color, stylish furniture, comfortable enough to spend a few minutes, though likely to cause pins and needles beyond that. Alien romance. No, I didn’t expect a ‘how-to’ guide, but it could be a start. Valuable insight. Would it be under sci-fi or romance? “Or self-help?” I mumbled, apparently just loud enough to get her attention.

She smiled.

Fine, I’ll ask.

“So, where would I find alien romance?”

The woman at the counter, bearing a name-tag with the word Rachel, was tall for a human, with a soft, mint-green sweater over even softer curves. Wavy auburn hair to the middle of her back was held by a silver clasp, with a few locks escaping. She bore a pleasant, if tired expression. Which changed as she heard my request. “Not many guys are into that.”

“Well, you know how it is, sometimes you feel like an alien yourself.” I probably should have waited until I had a clearer head the next day, but curiosity and inhibition-reducing substances are a universal constant.

She led me to a far corner of the store, making small talk along the way. “They’ve been quite popular. Anything in particular you’re looking for?” The lilt in her tone probably meant something, but I was too out of my element to even guess.

“Not… yet? I just found out that it was even a thing. I mean, aliens and romance, they don’t seem to…”

She shot a glance over her shoulder, a warm smile pushing back weary lines around her eyes. “It’s fine. So how spicy do you like it?”

“Spicy?” I slowed my pace. Would I be running from the store screaming ‘it’s a cookbook’?

She matched my pace. “You know, spicy or sweet.”

More and more like a cookbook. I nodded, shielding my inner unease with a fake smile. “Umm.”

She tilted her head conspiratorially. “How steamy things get.”

Still a cookbook. By now my smile was as fake as the ‘aliens’ from that 60’s show. “Steamy, as in…”

“Sex.”

“Oooooh.” I puffed out a long sigh of relief. “I’m not sure about the specifics. Maybe surprise me?”

She waved a hand. “Don’t feel bad. I’m honestly happy to see a guy get into this… so… just don’t judge the covers too harshly.”

I blinked in disbelief as she gestured to the section. It had to be hundreds of books. “Wow. I’m sure I’ll find something…” Instructional? Cultural hints I needed to overcome my lonely stint?

She handed me a volume. “Tundra Savages is one of the OG series, you can’t go wrong with that.”

I gazed in shock at the cover image. It… wasn’t me. It wasn’t even two of me put together.

“The new covers are much subtler.” She cocked her head. “Not… what you expected?”

A chill washed over me, as that brief surge of optimism drained away. This was what they meant.

“I know it’s not realistic, but it’s harmless—”

“Unrealistic?” My frustrated, addled mind snapped. “It’s terrible! First off, these guys.” I gestured at one of the covers, “Actually look like the Krivix, not whatever the hell they’re calling them in the book. “They’ve got egos even bigger than their muscles.” I thrust fists into my hips. “And you know what they don’t got? Let’s just say they’re compensating for something.”

Rachel’s cheeks turned pink as she broke into laughter.

“And these guys here,” I gestured to another book. “Look like the Craen. Except for the hair. They shave their heads. But they’re monks! They procreate through sort of… well, it’s not romantic, trust me. Then we come to this little gem.” I shoved a third book at her. “It’s well known that the females of Kuuz’ol VII are the more interesting ones, romantically speaking. You know what that tail is for? It’s so he can extract himself from her clutches before she saps… too much of… of his…”

Rachel was nearly doubled over, laughing uncontrollably as tears streamed down her face.

I took half a step back, lowering my voice. “Maybe it was a bad idea coming here. I just wanted to experience a simpler culture. You know, to get away from the bustle and the tech and the…”

“No! Please stay,” She wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand, as she caught her breath. “I know exactly how you feel.”

I cocked my head. “You do?”

“Yes.” She put a hand on my shoulder. “Maybe check out our historical romance section… although… I’d love to hear your commentary on some of our fantasy romance titles first.”

A tone sounded.

“Uuugh. Closing bell. I gotta get back to the register. Please see me before you leave, OK?”

I nodded.

---

I purchased a couple of the more innocuous titles that night, leaving the store with an embarrassed flush… and a phone number handwritten on my receipt. I’d stared at the digits on and off for a couple days, trying to work out if it was actually some slang code meaning, ‘you’re an idiot.’

But curiosity got the better of me and after a couple of calls and a few more texts, I stood in front of Baldwin’s Bistro. Ready for a date. With a human female. Named Rachel.

I spied her in the waiting area. Her top and skirt were a tad more shimmery and form-fitting than what she wore at the store, silky auburn hair flowing freely around her shoulders, the tired look replaced with an alert, energetic expression.

I waved. “Hey, it’s nice seeing you again. After that outburst in your store, I, umm…”

She raised both hands. “Don’t apologize. It was the most fun I’ve had in months.”

I fidgeted with the keys in my pocket. “Well, I’d had a few drinks and… let’s just say, if I have anything, it’ll be weaker tonight.”

We sat, ordered dinner and drinks, and fell into an easy rhythm of conversation.

“So, your alien knowledge was… really cute.” She rolled the stem of a glass of Pinot Grigio between her fingers, gaze shifting between me and the wine. “Do you cosplay, or go to cons, or what?”

“I guess you could say I do a little cosplay.”

She cocked her head. “As long as you’re not one of those Roswell conspiracy theorists.”

“Are you kidding? That was totally a weather balloon.” As far as I knew, at least.

After a lull, she continued, “You said something about not wanting to be there last week.”

I nodded.

“But it seemed like it was what you wanted. You were so passionate about… well just about everything. It was endearing.”

I stared into my rum and Coke. “I had enough with games and wanted something more. You know? At a certain point it seems like nothing feels real.”

“Is that a line?” She waved her free hand at me. “Come on, you don’t need lines, I already think you’re cute.”

She thinks I’m cute. Yet I looked nothing like any of the aliens described in those books.

I glanced into her eyes. Brown was actually an exotic color by galactic standards. “No, I’m serious. This cosplay stuff.” I’d looked into that too. “Some people like to imagine the future, some the past, or some other culture… but it’s not just that, it’s a simple version of the past. Or whatever. When things get messy and complicated, they don’t seem as… real. And you have an image of a place like this.” I gestured vaguely to the room. “And you think it’s going to feel more real than what you’ve got.”

“Yeah. I know. I sell dreams and fantasies, you know.”

And I buy them, apparently. “So… how is it? Selling fantasies, I mean. Is it a satisfying life?”

“A satisfying life.” She set down her glass with a light clunk. “You’re very philosophical for a first date.”

“Maybe I’m just passionate about finding my place.”

She brushed a lock of auburn hair behind her ear for the third time. Humans accentuated certain areas of their fur, while hiding or shaving off others. Though I didn’t understand exactly why, the way she played with her hair, combined with her subtle lean in my direction, and expressive gestures with her hands were all oddly alluring. “It’s not exciting or glamorous. There’s a lot of inventory management, obsessing over sales figures. But when I help someone find that perfect book… it’s a good feeling. Like I’ve brightened someone’s day a little.”

“The more complex things get, the more the simple things count.”

“My alien philosopher.” She spoke with a subtle singsong that put an involuntary smile on my lips. And there was a warmth to her that belied her statistically below-average body temperature.

I chewed a bite of spinach salad. “Hey, I need to hit the restroom. If the waiter comes by, do you mind ordering me another drink?”

“Sure.”

I returned a few minutes later to a smiling face and a fresh drink.

“So, the books you bought,” she asked. “Have a chance to read any of them?”

I took a long sip, wincing as I finished. “Rum and Coke?”

“Yeah, you said you wanted it weak, right?”

I nodded, my brain tingling as I did.

Books. Yes, those books. “How do you wear a cowboy hat if you’ve got actual horns?”

She smirked. “That’s what you picked up on.”

Well, there was also the matter of how their… alienhoods were supposed to work with a human-sized woman. But that was probably second- or third- date level conversation.

“Not just that.” I washed down the last of my salad with a sip of… woof… she calls that weak? “OK, so the Rihlah would never shave their chest like that, it’s an insult to their masculinity.”

She beamed a bemused smile.

“And what about those spines on… uhhh, I forget which one it was, but, but… how the hell are you supposed to wear an environmental suit with spines like that! You’d pierce the suit’s integrity.”

“In fairness, there was a lot of piercing going on in that book.”

I snorted. “Yeah, you got me there.”

Swirling the ice around my glass, I glared at the drink. “You sure you asked them to make this weak?”

“I did. It’s practically straight Coke!”

I blinked again.

Whoops.

“My species reacts to the carbonation, not the alcohol.”

Her smile broadened. “Ohhh… am I going to get another tipsy alien cosplay routine?”

“That would be a tipsy human cosplay routine, thank you very much.”

“If I take you back to my place would you wear a cowboy hat for me?” She fidgeted with a silver dragon pendant. “Unless you sprout horns, of course. Because we all know that would be totally unrealistic.”

---

As the door to her apartment thunked closed behind us, I realized I had no idea how human intimacy actually worked. Yes, yes, I knew the mechanics, but the customs in popular media were all over the place, and those books…
I extended a hand to her. “So… about that cowboy hat.”

She stepped closer, taking my hand. Hers was soft and delightfully warm. “Any horns or spines gonna pop out? It was an expensive hat.”

“No.” I squeezed her hand, sliding my other around her waist. “But I could proclaim my dominance over this territory, and say you’re my exclusive possession if that would help.”

“Mmm… never been a fan of the alphas, myself.” She leaned closer. Our noses brushed against each other. Our lips touched, parted—oooh, that feels nice—my eyelids grew heavy as she pressed kiss after playful kiss into me.

She pulled back a little, flashing a crooked grin. “You know, I’m a tad disappointed you don’t have a forked tongue.”

“Actually, I do. I had to have it surgically altered so I wouldn’t draw too much attention to myself.”

Her grin spread further. “Guys with a good sense of humor are so damn sexy. I could just eat you up.”

My own smile turned plastic as a brief chill shot down my spine. No, that was Shiltos Prime where they do that after mating. I think. “We did skip dessert, didn’t we?”

She lifted an eyebrow, the tip of her tongue poking from the corner of a wicked grin as she did.

“You, Rachel, are absolutely enchanting. For a human, of course.”

She slid the shimmery navy-blue top over her head, letting her wavy auburn hair cascade over her now bare shoulders. “Did you bring protection?”

I bit my lower lip, wishing I’d paid closer attention to various slang phrases. I was sure post coital cannibalism wasn’t a thing on this world…

She grabbed a small box from her nightstand.

“Ohhh…” That kind of protection. “I didn’t. I mean, your species is genetically incompatible, so it’s never really been a—”

She snorted, tossing me the box. “I’ve never had this much fun with foreplay before, but, you’re wearing a condom, babe.”

The night turned out better than I’d ever dreamed. Bra clasps seemed designed to befuddle males on a universal level, but eventually, my superior technical skills prevailed. We were physically compatible, though the way her eyes lit up, and the phrase ‘body modification,’ as she tore off my pants, gave me a nagging feeling that I’d miscalculated the importance of some details of my human cosplay. Certain bodily fluids turned out to be of the correct color, again a detail I hadn’t considered, but was relieved when coincidence worked in my favor.

As we lay in bed side by side, naked, covered in a light sheen of sweat (also the correct color, but that was a detail I’d confirmed in advance) I squeezed her hand.

“You’re so hot,” she said.

I turned on my side, head propped on a palm. “You know, the human body temperature is below galactic average, so technically most aliens are hot.”

She kissed me. “My alien love machine.”

“My human mate.” I traced fingertips along her shoulder.

“No regrets, I hope.”

I frowned a little.

Her gaze saddened.

“Not with you!” I sighed. “I just wish now that I’d kept the original anatomy of my tongue.”

---

Host Commentary

And that was “I Was an Alien Love Machine” by D.H. Willison. About the story the author had this to say:

“I love fish out of water protagonists. This story has a tangential connection to my portal fantasy series Tales of Arvia, although it was a story I could never tell within the series. An average human from contemporary Earth swaps places with an alien to end up running for his life on a world brimming with monsters and magic. Hilarity ensued. But for years I’d pondered about what happened to the alien who was impersonating said average guy on Earth, and I’m happy to finally have the chance to relay the alien’s experience. I had a ton of fun playing with both sci-fi and romance tropes. Thanks for listening, and I hope you enjoyed it.”

I almost never talk about the back end of the story process, like the notes that go between editors. But sometimes, the associate editors send something up that they worry may not fit with our show, but they love it so much that they insist that we see it. This one had every person up the chain enjoying it, but worried it was too spicy for Escape Pod.

This is definitely not too spicy for Escape Pod! The problem is, like humor, a story that contains sexual elements that doesn’t go over the top into erotica or into ridiculously silly territory is hard to write, so we don’t see a lot of quality stories with that kind of sexual element. We have posted stories containing sex or even about sex in the past. EP 325, “Bad Dogs Escape” by James Patrick Kelly, has a very sensual element.

Strangely, this story reminded me of “American Pie.” Like the movie “Deliverance,” “American Pie” is remembered for one specific scene with the rest of the story uncommented about in the larger pop culture sense, but I was surprised that “American Pie” had definite layers with pretty good writing. Four teens set out to have sex on prom night, and they all achieved it, but not in the way that any of them expected, with differing levels of satisfaction the next morning. We opened this story with the knowledge that the protagonist wants to find an Earth lady to hook up with, but it never feels predatory, and the way he succeeds is somewhat surprising.

I love this couple, and would be very interested to see more, namely how long she thinks he is just delightfully weird, or how long he will date her before wanting to leave Earth. Or maybe they’ll just do an amicable split. I hear people can do that.

If you wonder what happens behind the scenes, we have several staff members at Escape Pod, both handling the story and narrator side of things, and those handling the back end like the money and the websites and the collections. And all of the EA magazines are audience supported, and we count on your donations to keep the lights on and the servers humming. Head to https://escapeartists.net/support-ea/ to see all the available donation and subscription options, including Patreon, PayPal, Ko-Fi, and Twitch.

You can also support Escape Pod for free by rating or reviewing us on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or your favorite app.

Escape Pod is distributed on a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license. Our music is by permission of Daikaiju. You can hear more from them at daikaiju.org.

That was our show for this week. Our quote comes from Dr. Seuss: “I am weird, you are weird. Everyone in this world is weird. One day two people come together in mutual weirdness and fall in love.”

Thanks for listening. We will see you next week with more free science fiction. Stay safe, stay kind, and have fun.