Kikimora's New Home

March 10th, 2016. The day the Extraspecies Exchange Program is supposed to deliver the woman that will change my life. Today, sliding out of bed is a bit easier. The laziness which usually completely saps my body of energy has been deemed unneeded due to the satisfying event.

Breakfast is quick, showering is invigorating, and a clean pair of clothes feels less like a waste and more like a suit and tie. This girl's gonna love me, I can feel it.

A knock on the door, morning sunlight piercing the glass panes on either side of it. That has to be her! I run up to the door and undo the bolt, peeling open the wooden barrier and peeking my head out of the large crack in the entrance.

"Hello, is this the residence of a, first name Anon, last name 'not important'?" A buxom girl in a blue suit equipped with a clipboard asks, a saleswoman's smile on her face. Her black hair is tied back into a ponytail, and the serious frames of her glasses add an air of intelligence to her already professional appearance.

"Yeah, that's me alright. Are you with the E.E.P?" I respond, trying not to let my eyes linger on her impressive bust, atleast for a human girl.

"Your extraspecies guest, Sophie, has arrived!" The woman chimes with a nod and a smile caked in snake-oil, stepping toward the side and placing her hand on the shoulder of my guest.

The kikimora stands a little below the height requirement at disney land, but doesn't make up for it with her other features. Her pure, innocent face is a perfect match for her countertop-flat bust and matching hip-to-waist ratio. She's got dark brown, curly hair that stops at her shoulders and bland brown eyes to blend with it. There is nothing interesting about her but her dress, white with spaghetti straps. Her feathery tail flicks behind her, a bright white smile on her blushing face. It's gonna hurt a little sending her back, if only because I'll have to wait another three fucking weeks for a new girl.

"Yeah... I already own a vacuum cleaner, so if you could ask Dyson what their restocking fee is for her, I'll go ahead and pay it. Then, we can order up a real monster girl." I respond in a monotone disappointment.

The Kikimora's ears and tail deflate alongside the corners of her lips, tears pressing against the very brim of her eyelids. The waterworks haven't flowed just yet, but I can smell the heartbreak. She fiddles with her own fingers, her gaze becoming submissive and avoiding my scrutiny. She says nothing, merely faking a smile and trying to look unscathed.

The woman sighs, almost as though this were a repeat, which wouldn't be surprising considering how unpresentable this girl is. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave any complaints with our forward office, I can't take her back. I'm just the delivery."

Always something. "What a drag, alright... I'll call them up. Thanks for nothin'." I purposefully sound unsatisfied, because I am.

The agent returns to her towncar, the tires screeching in the distance as I close the front door. Sophie wedges her foot in the doorframe just before it's fully shut, her mouth trembling in an attempt to speak, but she can't find the words.

"...You're kinda in the way." I mutter, peeking through the crack she's forced.

"S-sir, c-can't I stay inside? It's much too hot out here! I know you d-don't want me around bu-"

I interrupt her; "If you know I don't want you around, why are you annoying me? No dogs allowed. Go play in the dirt or sweep the porch, or something." I step on her toe with just the slightest pressure and it easily gives in, a yelp heard as her toe is mashed. She steps back, and just before fitting her face into the door to try and squeeze in- Slam. Her pathetic, tear-ridden cheeks mush against the glass of the frame on the left, her puppy-dog eyes glued to me.

I take out my phone, ignoring the scratching at the door and the muffled pleading to come in backed by a choking of tears. I'm not buying it. I dial up the E.E.P and am greeted with a "Please hold, your average wait will be; 9." Hours!? "Days."

...

For a government program, they must be really overconfident in their customer satisfaction. This is going to blow... I can't run up my minutes like this! I end the call and slip my phone into my pocket, turning around and feasting my eyes upon the schadenfreudic sight of a sobbing kikimora. Sophie's tears reverberate through the glass, her eyes completely clouded in a film of sadness. My heartstrings might be out of tune, but she's played enough of them. Not like I can stay on the phone for 9 fucking days.

I open the door again, keeping the bolt locked to ensure she can't scramble past me.

She steps up toward the crack and sniffles, her feathered wrists used to clear her eyes as she tries to push herself through the crack.

"Yeah, I called up the E.E.P and they said that they don't even want you back. Guess I got rused huh? Don't worry though, I've got a guy who works at the pound who'll be here in like an hour or two to come get you. That being said, an hour is a long time to be crying out there. I'd like to atleast get a bit of shut-eye since you wasted my time by making me get up early for this, the least you could do is mop or something. Isn't that what your wrist-things are for? Are you a mop?" I rant, a wicked grin on my face.

She sniffles, looking at her hands. "N-no Sir, they--"

I interrupt her again; "So you don't want to come in? Alright..." I drone out the last bit and begin to close the door, just waiting for her frantic response.

"W-wait! Please, no! I'll do good work, i-it's the least I can do!" Right on cue, she begs for my mercy.

I close the door for extra effect, then press my ear to the wood as I undo the bolt. Her sniffles are absolutely hilarious, though I meant what I said. I open up the door and motion for her to enter. "Kitchen counter, chop-chop. Make it shine, mutt."

Like a bat out of hell, which would be preferable to a shit-tier kikimora, she sprints full-force for the counter. Her instincts are good for one thing, she knows exactly where the rag and soap is. She begins scrubbing the counter, a forced smile on her face and worry deep in her brown eyes.

I shrug my shoulders and head for the couch, taking a seat and propping my feet up against the coffee table. The flat screen springs to life at the click of a button, white flashing and speakers crackling. A show I don't care about is the first thing on, something about houses. It'll do to distract me until I can figure out how to get rid of this damn dog.

Sophie is busy scrubbing the counter, filling the room with the squeaks of servile cleansing. I turn up the volume to try and drown her out, though the bitch suddenly decides to speak.

"Oh! I love this show! It's the one where they build such beautiful houses!" She says, a smile now on her face and her tears almost dried. Her tail begins wagging and her ears flick jubilantly.

I look at her, narrow my eyes, then change the channel. Her ears immediately flop, and her tail stops in its tracks. She solemnly looks to the counter and starts cleaning again, her smile and optimism shattered.

After about 30 minutes of watching this show, the Kikimora approaches me with the rag in her hands and sweat on her brow. "Sir?" She asks quietly.

I turn up the volume on the television.

"S-sir..." She tries again, but with no response. "I've finished cleaning the counter. I-is there anything else I can do for you?"

I look up at Sophie, who has the most pitifully hopeful smile on her face. "You know, impressing me isn't going to let you stay here right?" I respond, looking back to the show.

There's a silence, her eyes drawn to the floor and her extra features wilting. "Why don't you like me? Why doesn't anyone like me!? I do everything to m-make my hosts happy but they won't even give me a chance!" She cries, twisting the rag in her dainty little hands.

I pull my feet back to the floor and sigh as I sit back up, turning my head to give Sophie my disapproving stare. I turn off the television, then stand from the couch to tower over her.

She immediately recoils, pushing her head back into her shoulders as though she's a cowering turtle.

I place my thumbs into either of my pockets and lean forward, looming over her with a scrutinizing stare. "Because, you're not even a monster girl. You're a fucking roomba with ears, the furry version of a broom. I could pay a prostitute and a mexican chick to suck my dick and clean my house, and combined they'd be cheaper than the food required to upkeep your fat ass. Infact, a roomba can suck and clean ten times better than you on its own. I could slap googly eyes on it, and it'd be prettier. It'd probably have more personality too. Unless you magically transform into a top-tier mamono- like a hellhound or something, I have literally no use for you."

Sophie is frozen in a painful sorrow, her hands trembling and her eyes wide with disbelief. She can't even bring herself to retort, all she can do is well up with tears again.

"See? You're pathetic." I start to sit down, though in an unexpected turn of events, the kikimora stamps her foot.

"I-I am top-tier! I clean, I c-cook, I'm fluffy!" She argues, her voice trembling.

"You're not fluffy, you're a bird pretending to be a shitzu." I snap. "Your choices are become a hellhound, or go stuff yourself in the trash where you belong until the pound gets here."

"H-how am I supposed to become a hellhound!? I'm a kikimora, I can't change that!" She whines.

"Well- You could always cosplay." I respond, much to her surprise.

She raises her brows, her ears flicking curiously. "C-cosplay?"

Without further ado, I stand up and grab her arm firmly like a child being dragged out of a toystore. She squeaks, her face lighting up red. I gotta hand it to her for being obedient. She follows me every step of the way to the kitchen without fuss, where I open up the spice cabinet.

"Here, fill your mouth up with this." I say, handing her a bottle of habanero sauce.

"W-what?! Hotsauce?" She asks, clenching the bottle in her hands and pouting at me. "B-but..."

I pull out my phone and start typing in some random numbers, not even hitting the keys. I put it up to my ear and wait a second, looking around the room as though she didn't even exist. "Yes, is this the city pound?" I snap my gaze to the kikimora and glare.

She pops the cap of the hotsauce and sobs as she hesitates with the nozzle pushed against her lips, a few drops slipping onto her tongue.

"Nevermind..." I put the phone away and cross my arms. "Alright, looks like you're willing to listen, but you'll need more than that. Go ahead, drink atleast a quarter."

Her sobs now fill the room, her tongue bathed in the hottest sauce I have available. Her eyes are stinging red just from the fumes, and she's panting like she's dying in the desert.

"Come on, you're a hellhound! You're a real monster girl, you can handle it... Unless you wanna go in the trash." I grin maliciously, full well ready to drag her by her straps and drop her in the garage.

She begins panting with her mouth wide open, tears flowing down her cheeks as she waves at herself. "P-pleethe.. Pleethe! Leb me thpit it out! I-I ha-hambled ib!" She begs.

"Hellhounds wan when they want something badly." I say, disappointment in my voice.

"W-what!? Pleethe! Ib buhnth tho bahd!" Sophie pleads.

"Wan or I'll make you drink another quarter." I threaten.

Her huffs are pathetic, she sounds like she's choking when she begins barking. "W-wahn! Wahn! Wahn-wahn! Wa-ahahwn..." There's a pause, her cheeks pushing into her eyes and her mouth twisted into a hole of horror, filled with hotsauce. She continues pleading; "Pleethe... M-may I thpit it out n-now?"

"Nope. You must swallow ALL of it. Just pretend it's my load, or a twinkie or something." I say with a dismissive shrug.

She begins to gag, swallowing with all her might but coughing it back up. She looms over the sink, the bottle dropping out of her hands and onto the floor with a 'plink'. Strong glass, doesn't break, but it does spill a bit. She manages to get most of it down, after almost throwing up. "T-there! S-sir. Sir I did it! I swallowed it! I-I don't have to go to the trash!" She beams, tears in her eyes and a smile on her beet-red face.

"Not just yet, you don't, but you did make a mess." I point to the bottle of hotsauce on the floor. "Clean that up with your tongue and maybe I'll let you stay the night or something."

I didn't think her face could get any redder, but she goes up a hue. She stiffens, her tail flicking behind her and her teary eyes avoiding me. "Y-yes sir." She huffs after a second, then starts panting again. "C-can I get some water first, sir?"

"Sure. Let me pour you a glass, since you've been so good." I take a glass from one of the cabinets and set it under the refridgerator.

"T-thank you, thank you, thank you!" She exclaims, her tail wagging as she watches the water fill up an inch at a time. The whirring of the working refridgerator acts like a torturous metronome. She stands there, panting with her red tongue out and a look of growing agony on her face. Her tail slows down, her face trembles, and the glass just never seems to get full. She's reaching out for it when it's halfway there, her fingers quaking.

I hold up my finger, then open up the fridge. "You want ice with it, don't you?"

She nods frantically, "Yes! Yes please. Ice! Ice!"

I take out a cube at a time, slowly sliding it down the side of the cup to avoid splashing, and causing the wait time to skyrocket. Every hellish second of her clearly stinging tongue in dire need of the water that passes is poetry in motion. She bounces and prances as though she badly needs to go to the bathroom, her voice growing more and more burdened by heat.

She's suffered enough, so once the glass is full I present it to her without any further tricks. She gulps down the water with all her might, huffing and gurgling into the glass with a ferocious thirst to be sated. Desperate little thing.

While she's busy cleaning up the bottle of hotsauce, I return to my television show. It's another hour minutes of mindless browsing through the channels when Sophie approaches me, her hands tucked infront of her and trembling on her lips. "U-uhm, Sir... M-may I please watch television with you? I've c-cleaned the whole kitchen! B-but I need a break..."

"Really? Are all kikimora this useless, or just you?" I ask, raising my feet onto the coffee table again. "Go ahead I guess."

Sophie lets out a sigh of relief, though she still looks pretty heartbroken. She's about to take a seat on the couch when I block her with my hand.

"Woah-woah-woah! Couches are for people! You can sit on the floor." I reprimand her with a tsk and a shake of my finger, scoffing.

She says nothing as she lowers herself onto her knees, staring blankly at the TV.

I turn onto my side and prop my feet up on her shoulder, the weight causing her to whine the slightest bit. I think I'll watch a movie until the pound can get here...

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