At the foot of the mountains in a colonised land where the people now chose to live their lives in boxes and only holidayed where the colonised people roamed was the capital of a small state. The state struggled with a lack of the mineral resources that made other out of the way places rich. The state was also too far away from significant crossroads or waterways and so had not mastered the art of international commerce. Regrettably, centuries after the colonisation, the state had not branched out into invading neighbouring states and gaining riches that way. That's not to say it has nothing going for it. The mountains provided plenty of flowing water which efficiently became electricity. The same water, frozen in the winter, brought tourists to slide along the slippery slopes. The plentiful electricity allowed the development of an industry based on electronics.
Still, more affluent neighbours and tourists resulted in a situation where the people were always looking for a financially richer future. The source was unexpected and undreamt of. As with any benefit, there was a catch. The opportunity required the state to accept refugees. Eventually, the refugees would number in the millions and match the state's current population. The influx of strangers would be regulated over many years, but it had to start somewhere. Like our story, it begins on a pleasant September day when the morning traffic had dissipated, and those with no reason to rise were only just starting to clamber out of bed.
The doorbell to number thirty-six Court de Real rang to the theme of a contemporary science fiction film where the heroes were brave and the villains dark, and on the whole, the place was much more straightforward than the world in which the doorbell rang. As she rushed to the door, Marie straightened her hair. Marie was somewhat of a rarity in this country. She was a hausfrau or housewife. Marie had helped people with disabilities in the past, but since her husband's meteoric rise thanks in part to the brand new opportunity, she had embraced the life of a stay-at-home wife. She adjusted her tie in the mirror by the front door and brushed the front of her waistcoat. Her suit skirt fell beneath her knees, and her whole outfit was traditional and typical of the region. She was very proud of her choice of tie. The yellow ducks popped from the deep blue background and were guaranteed to catch the attention of anyone. The look was precisely the effect she was going for.
Marie opened the door and looked out. At first, there was nothing to see, and then a tiny five-fingered hand rode up into her view. Marie was close to one metre seventy in height, and while tall for a woman on the world stage, she was about average for the women of her home country. She looked down to find the person who would be part of the life of the house for at least the following year, one of the first of the refugees and her heart did a little skip.
"Well, hello," Marie said as she gazed down at her new houseguest. She had known what to expect and had gone through extensive cultural training for this moment. The glossy red skin and black eyes were as Marie had expected. The long black hair and the long polished nails, too, were something she had become very used to during those training sessions. What she hadn't expected was to find such a petite version on her doorstep. The nose that tilted up a little at the end would fit neatly between Marie's breasts. As expected, the visitor wore a white strip of cloth across the chest and a similar band across the hips. The city would be cooler than their homeland. One of the duties of Marie and those like her was to provide appropriate clothing. A shopping trip was going to be in order very soon.
Marie's thoughts lasted a few milliseconds before she began the ritual greeting of her guest's people. She threw her arms wide and braced herself. Her new charge leapt forward with a sob and wrapped arms as far as they would go around Marie's torso. Marie hugged back. Marie smelled the spicy smell of the dark hair and felt the heat radiate off the small body. The skin was smooth and soft, something Marie had not been prepared for. Somehow the photographs made it look hard. This was a pleasant new piece of information.
After the traditional greeting, Marie used hand gestures to invite her guest into her neat home. After a moment of nervous hesitation, the visitor smiled to show a row of neat, white, sharp teeth, bowed in thanks and entered a human dwelling for the first time. Across the city, this same performance played out with equal or lesser success than at Marie's house, but everywhere the welcome was as genuine as the relief on the part of the visitor. All parties had undergone extensive preparation. It was vitally important that the first of these transitions take place successfully. For the time being, we will focus on Maire's house as the exemplar for the city as a whole.
Once inside the house, the visitor pulled a folded sheet from the abbreviated clothing and handed it to Marie with a nervous smile. It had been decided that the language of the state, which was handily a lingua franca around the world, should be the one spoken, and the visitors learn this language rather than teach their own to their hosts. Language learning is an involved process for the learner and is best achieved in situ. The visitor had little of the new homeland's language, and the sheet's contents bridged that gap.
Marie took the sheet and learned that her guest would like to be referred to with the feminine pronouns and by the name Zeefa. The guest wanted to try as much human culture, food and life as possible.
Marie introduced herself and decided the first thing for Zeefa to try would be a cup of chocolate. To this end, she ushered the new member of her household to the sitting room and bade her sit upon the sofa. Zeefa enjoyed the bounciness of the cushions and grinned broadly at the feeling. When Marie returned with the cup of chocolate, Zeefa was still sitting on the sofa, her dark eyes wide as she looked around the comfortable room. Where she came from, life was not this good. She almost fell off the sofa when she sipped the chocolate. The delight on her face made Marie's heart race with her pleasure at bringing such happiness. With half the cup drunk, Zeefa knelt in front of Marie and pushed Marie's skirt up. Marie had been meticulously trained and was fully aware that something like this was expected and had deliberately not worn underwear.
Zeefa's dark fingernails left red marks along Marie's inner thighs. Marie gasped at the contact and tried to close her legs. Despite her small stature, Zeefa easily found the strength to keep the woman's legs parted. Zeefa's tiny sharp teeth found purpose as they joined her long nails to create more light marks along the inside of Marie's legs up to her sex.
Zeefa tensed her arms and pushed the woman's legs further apart. "Pussy." The word sounded strange as it came from her mouth. It buzzed in a way that caused said pussy to tingle.
