They remained on the couch, still ruffled by Eva’s knowing wink. The essence of sex had been thrown out there, and it lingered in both of their minds. Discreetly, Karen glanced at Stone’s lap. Nestled between those thighs of his was something that had been designed to be inside of her. The thought of his size splitting her didn’t scare her. It was the idea of laying on her back with her skin bared and her insecurities exposed, that…
The time is now three PM.
She jolted, but Stone hooked an arm hooked around her before she fell. With his hand flushed against her hip, he pulled her back on the couch. When he released her, he brushed his fingers across her thighs as subtly as possible. Karen noticed the exploratory delay, and couldn’t help but wonder if he liked what he felt.
“You should, um, disable that voice assistant before it sends me down a flight of stairs,” she joked.
His chuckle rumbled through his thick chest.
“Cynthia, register a new owner,” he called out to the nothingness.
Very well. Who should I register?
What is the proper pronoun to use when addressing this person?
“She,” Stone dictated.
Understood. What is your relationship with Karen Miller?
Stone took one glance at Karen’s amazed eyes before shyly answering, “my mate.”
By mate, are you referring to the Britsh American definition of friend?
He shook his head before realizing that the voice assistant couldn’t see him. “No. I mean, uh, soulmate.”
Understood. Registering Karen Miller as your wife. Please standby.
The mates made eye contact, sharing their horror.
“Cynthia, I meant–”
Beta Stone, shall I edit Karen Miller’s name so that it reflects your surname?
“No. She is not my wife,” he practically cried out before burying his face in his hands.
I found some common relationships to wife. Did you mean to say mistress?
The damn machine was out to kill him.
“Cynthia, shut down right now,” he barked at the air.
Very well. Goodbye.
“I should go shower,” Karen mumbled.
He nodded enthusiastically, desperate for an escape. “Okay. I’ll go get you some clothes.”
He fled for the door, nearly falling down like a fool.
“Hey, Janet. Do you know where I can get some clothes for a female?” he asked the lead patrol officer.
“Hey, Stone. I can take care of that for you. What are the sizes that you need?”
He scratched the back of his head. Sizes?
His eyes dropped to his feet. “She’s about a size seven in shoes.”
“What about her shirts and pants?”
“Oh,” he grumbled. There was a lot to Karen, a lot to grip onto and love. When it came to what clothes were required to encase all that beauty, though, he was at a loss.
“She has big hips and thighs.”
Janet crooked her head. “Do you know the measurements? What about her tops and bra size?”
With a raised eyebrow, he reached for his own chest and gestured cups. “Her breasts are big.”
The patrol guard grinned amusedly at his pitiful descriptions. “Do you think you can find out some more specific sizes?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll get back to you.”
He went home and tried to plan how in the world he was going to ask Karen for her bra size. When he passed his washing machine, his eyebrows perked. Maybe he wouldn’t have to ask after all.
He dug through Karen’s discarded clothing, feeling like a creep as he pulled out her grey bra. He examined the thing for tags, but couldn’t find any that made sense.
“Cynthia, look up women’s bra sizes.”
“Very well. What size would you like to look up?”
“I don’t know. Look up big breasts.”
“Here is the top result: A video titled ‘big breasted bitch bouncing on a dick.’”
“No! No! Cynthia, don’t play that!”
The sound of moaning and screaming flooded his house. He opened his mouth to scream at the stupid voice assistant, only to choke on air when he found a horrified Karen standing by the door.
“Daddy, daddy, daddy!” echoed in the background
Her eyes remained locked on his chest. He looked down and realized that he was still holding onto her bra. He dropped the offending cloth, and boomed, "Cynthia, pause video!"
The video stopped playing, and the house was now defeated with silence.
"I'm so sorry," Stone blurted. "I was trying to get you clothes. I didn't know your sizes and I didn't want to ask you. I told Cynthia to look up..."
Karen's face melted with tenderness. She walked closer, picked up the bra, and pressed the cups against his chest. "I think these look better on you than me."
His shoulders dropped with relief, and he managed to smile. "Let's go get us some bras, then."
Karen was surprised to find that some items fit her. Her sizes weren’t common at all in the werewolf community. Stone wasn't sure if he preferred to see her in women’s clothing or in his own. One thing was for certain, though. Her thighs looked all the more delicious in wearing jeans.
He watched her descend down a flight of stairs.
“Are you working?” she asked as she sank down next to him.
“Yeah,” he replied, remembering to keep his computer on his lap. “Were the clothes okay? I can arrange some more. If you’re planning on staying for a while, that is,” he added when he realized that he was getting ahead of himself.
“Yeah,” Karen said with a shameful hang of her head. “I want to stick around.”
He could tell that her guilt was chewing her up, but didn’t get the chance to comment. Two weak knocks came from his door. He stood from his couch and found one of the senior citizens on his porch.
“I’m sorry to bother, but I was hoping you could help me. Oreo got stuck in the tree outside again. Do you think you can grab him for me?”
Karen followed him as he walked to the tree right outside his house. The cliche black and white pet was seated on a branch as it usually was every Saturday.
“Come on, Oreo. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not a squirrel?” he asked the feline as he easily plucked him from the tree. The cat purred. It was a traitor of his species, as cats weren’t fans of werewolves.
He scratched the fat cat’s head with a finger before single-handedly passing it to its owner.
“Thank you so much."