Adamonde. Benjamin Vance
are you my beautiful baby forever?”
She quickly grabbed him and placed herself in her favorite position; horizontal somewhere within the folds of his arms and legs and smiling directly in his face, and with much effort and a few choked chimes mixed in, coarsely whispered, “Aaa ... daahhh … mond … ddee.”
He studied her anticipation, expression and thoughts deeply, vis-à-vis just how she formed the word, and then tentatively whispered, “Ada-monde … Adamonde!”
She jumped up and bounced and bounced around him on her knees, bobbing her head up and down; whistled, chirped, chimed, growled and tinkled. Then she bounded onto his chest, stuck her tongue in his mouth and growled lowly, pulled her head back from his face so he could see her eyes and crossed them in a gesture she knew would make him laugh.
4.
A time finally arrived when he clearly sensed it was necessary to get serious about teaching her to wear clothes and behave more like a human. At the same time, he was obsessed with her and the need to prove he wasn’t insane. That was indeed the quandary. He could barely leave her alone to go to the bathroom without a profound sense of loss overcoming him. It was easy to believe he may be insane and the longer he waited the more he thought he wouldn’t care and drift toward that old tempting direction anyway. The rather redeeming component was that she was obsessed with him too. He simply had to find credence.
He was fairly acquainted with a veterinarian who cared for his Boston Terrier when it was attacked by a wild badger. The vet was very nice, very attractive and sort of flirty. He was happily married at the time, had thought about her many times since his wife passed, but in his state of mind was loathe to fabricate an excuse to see her without the presence of a pet. He thought perhaps she could have a look at Adamonde and at least confirm she was real. Of course he would have to warn her first; lest she be shocked into believing Adamonde was a genetic recombinant cloning freak of some kind. Who knew, she might have been, but he didn’t care one whit.
He attempted to intensify instructions, but about all it accomplished was to simply reinforce his opinion that Adamonde was exceptionally intelligent and very strong willed. Of course she had human traits to begin with, and he convinced himself he could actually keep her real identity hidden if he concentrated on convincing Adamonde to make herself appear and act more human. The trouble with that logic was; she didn’t care one bit about appearing human.
Jonathan prayed Adamonde loved him as he loved her, but wasn’t sure if she was capable. Of course he thought if she was, perhaps she would help him. He asked and asked, but couldn’t quite get through to her about the necessity to appear human. Hell, he couldn’t even imagine why her name was Adamonde and how a being that couldn’t speak should have a name she couldn’t pronounce.
However, he persevered over the following weeks, and finally got her to wear a long, fuzzy yellow coat over a shiny yellow, fantastically tight and thin whole body skin-diving leotard. She loved the yellow color, stood before the mirror and admired her yellow, shiny body when she had it on. He admired it too and would wolf-whistle at her when she wore it. She loved his admiration and would actually exaggerate her walk for him like the women on television. She’d wear no other color leotard and he knew she realized television was not authentic. In his own mind that somehow helped verify the possibility he wasn’t insane ... imaginably.
She especially loved her yellow body with her blonde wig. Thinking he might actually fool someone into thinking she was human, he took a chance and planned a safari outside. His nearest neighbor was about half a mile through the trees, and even though most trees were then currently bare, there were enough lush evergreens to hide his home and yard from most eyes. He watched, planned and waited.
On an especially sunny, early spring day he found her sunning and chiming to herself before the French doors in the upper bedroom. He knew she was enjoying herself and actually felt her warmth before he entered the bedroom doorway. Of course she was completely nude, on her back with arms and legs slightly splayed as if to pull in the maximum amount of warmth like she pulled him in. About 90 seconds after he came upon her, he was also nude, on his back with the top of his head toward the glass and warm sun. She was on top, still facing the sun; eyes closed, writhing on his erection. It felt licentiously wonderful and he completely lost his previous direction.
A while after they left a small wet spot on the bedroom carpet, he asked if she would put on her yellow body and hair and go outside. She shook her head, chirped and mentally reminded him there were dangers there. He pictured the birds and warm sun on warm grass; she shook her head. He explained that people might think he was dead and come to check on him if he didn’t get out of the house more. She started to shake her head again, but stopped and asked, “Th … ea-d?”
He said, “No, ‘dead’, like no life, no music, no making love and no marshmallows.” She tinkle-chimed as she smiled at him, and then crossed her eyes to divert his thinking. He chastised her, “You’re going to be the death of me, I know. We need to go to the animal doctor, not only to have you checked, but to verify you’re not a figment of my imagination.” Then he put his head in his hands and mumbled to the floor, “I don’t think I could live if you were just an illusion.”
She disappeared from his sight, but not from his consciousness. She returned with her blond wig, otherwise completely naked even sans socks. He looked at her and thought seriously about it but just hung his head again and said, “You must wear something. People will have me committed for sure if you don’t. Isn’t there anything you want to wear?” She started to shake her head and stopped, looked surprised at her own idea and ran back upstairs in three cheetah bounds.
She continually amazed him. Soon, she was back downstairs with her big beautiful scarf over her wig and breasts. It wouldn’t help if someone approached or was spying with binoculars because she was built similar to a human female everywhere, but … it might just get her out for a spell; just enough to make her want to go again, clothed next time. It worked, or it didn’t work, but he finally had the guts to go outside with her. He had a sickening; lightning-fast thought that perhaps he was subconsciously afraid she would run away if she got outside. She screeched, held his face in her hands, dilated her eyes and shook her head.
He opened a French door and looked around cautiously. The only things he saw were trees, warm greening grass and birds. They stole outside, practically nude. Not quite immediately, she looked down at her toes and used them to pull tender green grass. She looked at him with a big smile and chimed, then began to dance through the grass like a pixie. She got about 50 feet away, then zoomed back to him losing her scarf and even her wig. Milliseconds before she jumped on him feet first, she pulled down his boxer shorts with her toes and crashed them both onto the warm grass.
In the purposeful action of falling she straddled his body; at the last second lowering them both onto the grass in a most gentle way … and growling softly in his ear. He couldn’t shade his thoughts or his growing erection from her and soon she was again grinding on his groin and chortling with ecstasy in the sunshine. The thrill of making love in the open raged within him and he climaxed with a novel moaning-growl. She stopped, looked at him intently, chimed loudly; kissed him passionately and lingered with her tongue. That hadn’t happened before either, and her thoughts became puzzling to him. She stayed close to his face looking deeply into his eyes, and affectionately formed the whispered words, “Luu …fff khyyoo!” He heard them as clear as the Queen’s English … she said, “Love you”!
She wouldn’t allow him out of her strong peristalsis so he stood up with her latched on like a monkey again. At that point he didn’t give a damn who saw them. The warmth of the sun and the exhibitionism was making him giddy and horny and wild. Just as he began to feel firm inside her again, he heard a “meow” from somewhere to his front. It didn’t come from her, but she knew exactly where it came from, even though her back was toward the source.
She immediately pushed him out of her passionate embrace and thoughts, flipped backward off his body and landed in a crouch facing a stray cat that was approaching them for a possible handout or was curious about her discarded wig. In an action so fast she was a visual haze, she screeched, whirled to place her feet toward the cat