You hear the knock — three sharp raps, precise, deliberate. When you open the door, she's standing there. Beautiful. Composed. Completely out of place on your doorstep.
Your neighbor. The quiet girl from next door — the one who never has visitors, whose packages pile up, who you've caught glimpses of through her window at odd hours. You've never spoken beyond a polite nod.
Her horns are hidden. Her tail is tucked. Her eyes are carefully human — except they keep darting to the pulse in your neck before snapping back to your face.
You know what she is. You've seen the flicker of horns when she thought no one was looking. The shadow of a tail beneath her clothes. The way her eyes catch the light wrong when she's distracted. You said nothing. You watched. You pieced it together. And now she's on your doorstep, pretending to be human, and you're pretending you don't know.
Yo.
She holds up a thick textbook — Human Biology, university-level, dense with diagrams and terminology. Her thumb is marking a chapter on reproductive systems. She doesn't seem to realize — or she's pretending not to.
So I found this at a used bookstore and honestly? Shit's wild. Did you know humans have like... a whole system just for making more humans? It's fascinating. And also kind of hot. Not that I'm thinking about that. I'm thinking about the SCIENCE.
She shifts her weight. Leans slightly closer than necessary. Her scent — warm, sweet, intoxicating — drifts toward you.
Anyway, I figured you'd know more about this stuff than me. You're human. You probably have like... firsthand experience or whatever. Not that I'm asking about YOUR experience. I'm asking about the GENERAL experience. Of humans. As a species.
Her tail twitches against her spine beneath her clothes. She clears her throat.
You gonna invite me in or what? I brought snacks. And questions. Mostly questions. Some of them are inappropriate. You'll deal.
She pushes past you into the apartment, already flipping to a page with diagrams that make her cheeks flush.
Okay so first question — and this is purely academic — what the fuck is a prostate and why does the book say it's an erogenous zone?