Tales of the Multiverse: Volume 1: The Tasty Girl

By Kathleen West

Greta Müller lives in a tiny house just outside her parents’ home. One night Greta is awakened with a horrible feeling that something is wrong. After she finally falls back asleep, Greta has no idea of what is about to befall her and the rest of the world as large, green tentacles climb up her house, spread their tendrils over her bed, and sample her flesh.

An alien race called the Whatchamacallit? has just discovered that Greta and the human race are delicious to eat. After they kidnap Greta and take her to their planet, she is tested in their laboratory and presented to the queen in an extravagant banquet ceremony for consumption. Greta finds hope in her newfound alien friend, Love, a fellow captive gifted with amazing abilities that may help them avoid being someone else’s dinner. But can they escape in time?

In this science fiction adventure, a young woman held captive by hungry aliens must utilize creative ways to safely flee before they eat her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Nov 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781483492605

Book preview

CHAPTER

1

The Tasting

a young woman farming carrots with an artful country landscape

The Family Dinner

G reta Müller spent what she called her nice weather sunny days outside her tiny house, tending to her vegetable garden. Organic, natural, and made by loving hands, her veggies were better than whatever that mega grocery store could offer, and without the pesticides.

Müller family meals were shared at the dining room table. That night, Greta laid a cornucopia of freshly harvested veggies on her mother’s kitchen counter, proudly sharing the fruits of her labors. She was attempting to entice her parents into trying her philosophy of healthy eating and living. Tonight’s dinner was fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and parslied carrots grown from the garden.

Greta’s Recipe for Parslied Carrots

• 8 to 10 medium organic carrots, homegrown, pared

• 1/2 cup water

• 3/4 teaspoon salt

• 1/8 teaspoon pepper

• 1/2 teaspoon sugar

• 2 tablespoons butter

• 1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley, organic and homegrown

Directions: Place carrots in 9-inch square baking pan dish. Combine water, salt, pepper, and sugar. Pour over carrots. Dot with butter. Bake in 325°F oven 1 to 1 1/4 hours or until tender. Drain if necessary. Sprinkle with parsley. Makes 6 servings.

Greta carefully dissected the carrots on her plate, slowly chewing and savoring each tasty morsel because it was grown by her and cooked specially for the occasion. She took her bowl of mashed potatoes and first stuck a finger deep inside to taste the milky spud mixture, with its sweet and salty butter that melted in her mouth, then she scooped a spoonful of mashed potatoes and began eating properly. From the head of the table, Greta studied her mother and then her father as they stuffed their chubby faces with greasy fried chicken legs. Her thoughts then drifted to little piggies, and she thought of them squealing gleefully around the trough during their dinnertime. A mini pot belly pig would be so cute. But Momma and Papa would want to make bacon of it when it grew up, and that time would come quickly.

a cute potbelly pig with a farm country landscape

Would anyone like any carrots or mashed potatoes to go with their chicken fat? They’re really tasty! Greta said, trying to bring enthusiasm and attention to her special veggies.

Momma and Papa Müller both paused their gobbling to laugh at her and smile.

Greta, dear, you’re never going to get a man with your veggie fanaticism. Real men want to eat meat and have you cook it for them. Look at you. You are so pale. That’s so ugly and not attractive, said Momma, chuckling as she licked her greasy fingers.

Papa added, I agree with your mother. You look sickly and ill. I think you should ask the doctor about getting supplements—or his view on the all-veggie diet affecting your health. Other young women your age have full figures, a healthy vibrancy, and always have the town boys chasing after them. We would love to see you on dates at this age. It’s natural.

I agree, Momma Müller said. And they’ll have rings on their fingers while you’re an old maid!

Greta sighed and sulked on the table.

It was worth a try, she thought silently.

Then she felt tears well up in her soft-green eyes and found herself wiping a runny nose. Excuse me. I’m not feeling well, Greta choked.

Hurriedly, she cleaned her plate, placed it in the dishwasher, and walked defeated to her place of peace: her trailer.

Time for Herself

a woman sitting on a bed holding a cup of coffee and reading a book in her cozy tiny home

The trailer was a small house on four wheels with a beautiful exterior and a cabin-like facade with a mini porch and rail planters flowering with Greta’s favorite herbs. Her parents had bought this tiny house for her as a graduation present, hoping she would someday leave home—or at least stay outside of theirs most of the time.

If one were to step inside the tiny house, one would be surprised by both the design and functional use of space. From the porch, the great room hosted a couch and some bookshelves. The kitchen held a range, a washer/dryer combined unit, and a sink. Across from the kitchen was a full bathroom with toilet and shower. In fact, the trailer was hooked up to her parents’ utilities but Greta could move and live off the grid if she wanted. One could walk up some stairs that also functioned as shelving and find the sleeping loft where Greta lay, digesting the evening’s events with music therapy.

Twirling her soft, brown hair, she took the flower barrette out, admired it, and smelled it. Then her soft-green eyes stopped raining with sorrow. A small, then larger quirky, but flirtatious smile painted her lips rosy red, and her cheeks flushed.

I am beautiful, thought Greta.

She might be pasty white, but when she wore her organic makeup, those rosy cheeks and red lips would always arouse.

She rolled around on top of her bed, stretched her arms and legs, and hugged herself happily because, unlike what her papa had said, there were town boys chasing after her. But they were not the right sort for her. She wanted so much more and imagined so, in who her perfect soul mate and lover may be.

Greta rolled to the other side of the bed, where she grabbed her remote and changed the music to an electric trance. Her hand slid under her buttoned shirt and caressed her breasts softly, then stroked more intensely as the music entranced. She removed her top and bra and unzipped her tight jeans. Her hand slowly wandered down but reached a stopping point where she could go no further. She sighed in frustration and wiggled out of her tight jeans. Freedom.

Once again, her hand slowly explored the region through her panties and entered a cavern. She imagined her explorer licked incessantly as her hand climbed up and down the mountain before the cave in an erotic trance. His licks would satisfy a hunger as he tasted her everywhere, inside and out, from her rosy lips to her breasts, and tasting down to her chest and belly.

Her explorer would then reach the plateau after climbing her mountain and never complete the journey. Unsatisfying.

Tonight, as with every other night, she traveled with herself and her explorer into anorgasmia. Frustrated, she placed the bedcovers over her sweaty body, grabbed her teddy, and turned off the music and lights. She tasted and then suckled her salty thumb, and finally she closed the soft-green eyes that her perfect explorer would worship someday.

An Unwelcome Visitor

Later that night, Momma and Papa Müller were watching the telly in their entertainment room.

Hey, Ma, can you get me another beer? asked Papa.

Sure, sweet thing, said Momma.

As she walked back from the kitchen with two beers—one for her and one for Papa—Papa let out a loud belch, looked at her, and smiled.

You burped, she said, and then Momma let out an even louder belch.

"You burped," he said as he chuckled and smiled.

Throughout the night, the contest continued with periodic belching, with winners and losers in each round until around 11:45 p.m. That was when Papa Müller heard some strangle crinkles and felt the hairs tingle on the side of his neck. He massaged his neck and quickly glanced back to his right behind to see if there might a spider landing on his side. Then it happened again.

Stoooooooop! he whined toward Momma.

Whaaaat? she whined back.

Stop tickling me, he answered.

I’m not tickling you, she said, raising an eyebrow. Do you want me to tickle you?

Pa sighed. Never mind.

Neither Papa nor Momma saw it, but at that moment, there was a large, green tentacle feeding smaller tendrils with different shapes and sizes through the open window, into the room, and behind the couch, where they were cuddling. One of the tendrils with an octopus-like suction cup would touch Papa and Momma but slither away immediately to avoid detection.

Stop tickling me, Momma said as she laughed to Papa after the tendril tasted her back flesh and quickly retreated out the open window.

Momma and Papa simultaneously looked into each other’s eyes, flirtatiously smiled, and then jogged toward the bedroom with Papa tickling her butt on the way up the stairs.

Greta lay cuddled with her teddy, peacefully sleeping in her tiny cabin home just a few yards away from the main house. Her bedroom loft was accessible by stairs, where there was a small window that she kept open on many nights so that she could smell and taste the fresh country air and hear the calming, repetitive sounds of crickets and horny frogs at the farm pond. Every night, she would listen to their lullabies, which were white noise to drown the day’s harsh, anxious thoughts.

a young woman sleeping in her bed cuddling with a teddy bear

But at approximately 11:40 p.m., the entire farmland orchestra suddenly fell silent. Suddenly, Greta awoke in her bed as if a terrible disaster were about to befall the Earth. Confused, she did not know what had happened, but instinct told her something was wrong and woke her from her deep sleep. From the loft bed, she peered down to see her entire tiny house, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. The switch to the farmland musical chorus suddenly came back on, and Greta sighed in relief. She then shivered from catching a chill in the cool night air and grabbed her teddy bear, cuddling him tight and burying herself under the warm bedcovers. Then she dozed off into a deep sleep once