tagNonHumanBob the Blob

Bob the Blob


I screamed!

I couldn't help it. I mean, I'm a typical housewife with what I thought was a typical husband. Sure he had some idiosyncrasies, but who doesn't? They were nothing that strange.

He locked the door when he used the bathroom and spent almost no time getting ready for work, but he never had razor stubble. I attributed that to his heritage which I had thought was Swedish. Of course, his name, Bob, didn't fit with that upbringing but his father's name was Hank so I figured they were immigrants from a long time back. I also suspected that he never brushed his teeth because he used one toothbrush and one tube of toothpaste per year, but his breath was always fresh and his teeth were white and perfect.

Bob was six-four and 200 pounds with short blond hair. He was a big man with not an ounce of fat on him. He worked construction to provide us our modest home. In bed he was pretty tame but he always made sure I came. His dick was small but he was very caring. He sometimes would let me give him a blowjob but he never came in my mouth, though I wanted him to. They were minor issues.

Bob was a devoted husband. He never went out drinking with the guys from work. I never caught him cheating on me. He was dependable and affectionate. Other than wishing he was a little bit better in bed, I never had a complaint.

So, when I came home early that day, I had no cause to suspect I might get such a shock as I did. I rang the doorbell and let myself in. I knew Bob was home because he had the day off and his truck was parked outside.

I heard him in the den. He was playing Rock Band 3, banging on the drums with the sound on the television turned up so loud he couldn't hear the doorbell. I walked into the den behind him and watched him play for a moment. He had no idea I was there and I didn't want to scare him. I planned to wait until he was finished with the song, back out of the room, and make some noise.

He had gotten pretty good at Rock Band 3, playing the drums on most songs at hard level but when he got to a tough part he sometimes had trouble. This song, Crazy Train, was one of the more difficult ones and Bob tried to keep up but at one point he missed a drum pad and the drumstick flew from his hand onto the floor about three feet in front of him and off to the side.

Without a moment's hesitation, Bob reached out and snatched the drumstick off the floor. I couldn't believe what I had seen at first but then it began to sink in. Bob had stretched his arm out to a length of at least five feet to grab that stick. The horror of it slowly crept up on me.

I couldn't help but scream. I screamed as loudly as I ever had before. It was a primal scream that I really had no control over. It was completely involuntary. Had I had my way, I would have turned and ran quietly out of the house, but there's something built-in that made me let out the most blood-curdling scream I had ever heard.

"Carmen, you're home," Bob said, turning in his seat and smiling nervously back at me.

The fact that I hadn't startled him and he was so calm only made me more fearful. Looking back, I couldn't recall a time when I had ever seen Bob become startled at anything.

When I was out of breath from the scream I turned and ran. I ran as fast as I could toward the front door. I jerked it halfway open before it slammed shut.

I turned around. Bob was over me. His arm pressed the door closed and his body blocked my way back inside. He grabbed my arm and looked at me. "What's wrong?" he asked.

The speed with which Bob had overtaken me was not natural either. I work out several times a week at the gym. My body was toned and fit. There was no way anyone should have been able to chase me down that quickly. Bob was big and slow, so the way he chased me down made me doubt that this was Bob at all. "Let go of me," I shouted.

Bob grabbed both my arms and held me in place. "What's wrong with you?" he asked.

"What have you done with Bob?" I asked.

He looked confused, "It's me, Honey. It's Bob. Everything's okay."

I looked at him defiantly, though I felt cold terror in my heart. I said, "I saw what you did. I don't know what you are, but you aren't Bob."

"But it is me, Honey. Carmen, you know me. I don't know what you think you saw, but I love you," he told me.

"Bullshit. You're some sort of alien creature and if you don't let me go I'll scream again," I shouted.

"No, don't do that," he said with a sigh as his hand clamped over my mouth.

It took a second to sink in that he still held me with two hands. I looked down at the arm of the hand over my mouth and it was protruding from his chest, between the buttons of his shirt. I screamed into the hand, completely terrified.

At five-six and 125 pounds, I was no match for Bob, or this alien, in a physical confrontation, despite being in excellent shape. I had to fight dirty. I kicked him hard between his legs. He didn't flinch. I stepped my heel down on his sock-clad foot, also no reaction.

Bob, the alien, hesitated. I could see that he was confused and unable to decide what to do.

I would have run if I could but I was trapped like a butterfly with a pin through it. I knew that he had to kill me. He was an alien and I had found out. He had to kill me before I told anyone. I started to cry. Tears filled my eyes and I mewled under the hand across my mouth.

"Don't cry, Honey," he told me softly. Then he sighed and said, "I guess I've really screwed up this time."

The tears flowed freely down my cheeks and onto his fingers as I considered how he was going to kill me. I was terrified and that was all I could think about. I struggled but it was no use. He was way too strong.

"Please don't scream. Let me explain?" he pleaded as he removed his middle hand from my mouth. He waited a moment and when I didn't scream he pulled his middle arm back into his chest. His chest looked normal, no signs of an arm having been there, except for the gap between his buttons.

I was panting in terror and glanced around for something I could use to free myself. Finding nothing I looked at the alien claiming to be Bob. I begged, "Please don't kill me. If you let me go I won't tell anyone. I promise."

Bob's face took on a soft quality, though he didn't cry. Come to think of it, in all the time I had known Bob I had never seen him cry. He looked very sad though. "Kill you? I love you," he said softly. He hung his head in a very human gesture of sadness. Then he let go of me, stepped back, and said "If you want to leave, just go. I'll get my stuff and be out of here before you get back."

I turned, flung open the door, and ran to my SUV, my long brown hair blown all about by the wind of the approaching storm. I got in the driver's seat and locked the doors. I was shaking but I managed to get the key in the ignition and start it up.

I looked back at the house to see if the alien claiming to be Bob had changed its mind and was coming to kill me. All I saw was Bob standing in the doorway. He looked like someone had just killed his favorite dog.

I drove off down the road as fast as I could. I reached the convenience store a mile down the road and pulled in. I was too upset to drive any farther. I was still shaking from all that had happened.

What do I do now? Do I call the police? Who would believe me?

I knew I couldn't let him leave just like that. One the one hand, if he were some sort of doppelganger replacing Bob, he was the only one that could tell me where Bob was. Then again, if he really was Bob and my husband had been an alien ever since we met four years ago, I needed to hear his explanation. So, either way, I couldn't let him leave just yet.

I punched him up on my cell phone and put him on speaker as the sky grew dark and the rain began to fall outside.

"Carmen?" came the answer on the other end. It sure sounded like Bob and he sounded hurt. I was torn.

"What are you?" I forced myself to say. I didn't trust myself to say anything more. I needed answers.

Bob hesitated and then, after a moment he said, "I'm your husband and I also happen to be a shapeshifter."

"Where do you come from?" I asked terrified of the answer.

"I was born in Pasadena. You've been to my parent's house," he said. "My dad, on the other hand, comes from a planet several hundred light-years from here."

I wasn't very good at science but I knew that was definitely a very long way away. I was freaking out inside but I kept a calm voice as I asked, "What about your mom?"

"She's human. She moved here from Sweden when she was just a child," he told me.

"So she has no idea about what you are?" I asked incredulously.

"Of course she knows," he said.

I let that sink in for a moment. My mother-in-law knows that her husband and her son are aliens. How is that possible? Was she a captive? I had seen her go to the store by herself. Regardless, why hadn't she warmed me? "Why does she stay with Frank?" I said, asking the fourth question that popped into my head.

"She loves my Dad," he said. Then after a moment he added, "Dad says that she really likes the sex since we can do things that other men can't."

"What?" I asked, knowing I must have not have heard him right. "The sex isn't that great with you, Bob," I told him bluntly. The sex was always satisfying but it wasn't mind-blowing or anything. There had to be more than that.

"You haven't seen what I can do," Bob retorted.

I was doubly shocked. First, by my asking that question I had accepted that this was in fact Bob. The second shock was that he had been holding back sexually. Much of my terror evaporated and was replaced by curiosity. "Oh really?" I said skeptically.

I could hear the hope in Bob's voice when he said, "Come back home, Carmen, and let me show you."

There was no way I was going back without a lot more of my questions answered, but I did smile at his offer. Shifting the subject I asked, "How did your father mate with your mother to have you?"

"Technically, he didn't," Bob admitted.

"So, who's your mother?" I asked, shocked.

"I don't really have a mother. My progenitor is Frank, my dad," he replied.

I was stunned and confused. "How?" was all I could ask.

"Mitosis," he said simply.

Again, not great with science but I knew what mitosis was. Bob was a copy of Frank. A clone. Then I realized something; something I should have realized immediately but was unable to wrap my head around until that very moment. "You are genetically identical to your dad, right?"

"Yes, that's true," Bob answered.

"You don't look like him and you said you were a shapeshifter. So, what is your natural form?" I asked.

"Well," Bob began slowly, "my dad tells me that back on our homeworld our natural state is, well, a blob."

"A blob?" I asked, disgusted.

"Yes. Apparently those back on our homeworld, well, they feed on grass and small dead animals. But they are intelligent and sentient. There's really no reason to change shape unless they are threatened by a predator and all predators have been killed. Shapeshifting is a lost art and my dad taught himself. When I was born he taught it to me, though I retained much of the knowledge anyway."

I didn't know what to say. I was trying to envision his world as he described it and realize that it's a real place. At the same time I had to try to juxtapose my husband as being one of these creatures. It was just too much to take in all at once.

"Carmen? Are you still there?" he asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm here," I said a bit numbly.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know it's not what you want to hear, but I do love you. I promise that I can turn this into a good thing for us."

"A good thing?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes, a good thing. I promise. Please come home and let me show you," he pleaded.

"I don't know," I sighed.

"Please?" he asked. "Give me tonight. If you want me gone by morning, I will leave and never return."

I had given Bob the last four years of my life. I found it hard to argue with giving him one more night. Alien or human, I loved him. He still looked the same. He still sounded the same. "Okay," I whispered.

I hung up the phone before he could respond. I didn't need his thanks or his promises. I just wanted my life back.

I sat in the SUV for at least ten more minutes, the lightning and thunder getting brighter and louder as the storm swept overhead. I knew I was putting my life in danger by returning but I believed him. He was an alien but he had let me go. This was Bob. This was my husband, Bob the Blob.

I laughed. It was a stupid little thing, I know but in that moment I found the concept of Bob the Blob the most hilarious thing I could imagine. I must have laughed for a good two minutes straight.

Anyone who saw me would have thought me deranged. Here was this woman, sitting alone in her running SUV in a parking lot, laughing maniacally to herself in the middle of a thunderstorm.

The rain beat down hard against the windshield as I got back on the road to drive back home. I was grateful it was just a short drive. The roads were beginning to flood a bit.

Again, I sat in the SUV for a moment in front of the house, gathering my courage. I was about to voluntarily go back inside where my alien husband waited for me. Any sane woman would have left without a look back but I loved Bob. I loved Bob and I loved our life together. I owed it to myself to see if it weren't possible to get that life back, even if it meant trusting the word of someone from another planet.

The rain was cold and I was instantly soaked to the bone as I exited the SUV and made the dash to the front door. My long brown hair was plastered to the side of my head and my white blouse was so wet that, glancing down, I could see the design of my bra through the thin fabric.

Bob was at the door, waiting for me. Instead of hugging me like he usually did, he kept his distance. I felt that showed a great deal of respect for me and my feelings about all this.

"The rain is so cold," I muttered as I stepped into the warm living room.

"Your hair is all wet," Bob said with a smile. "May I touch it?"

Bob had never asked permission to touch my hair before but things were a little different now. I considered his request and couldn't see any harm in it so I gave him a quick nod.

Bob put his hands on either side of my head and I looked up into his blue eyes. He smiled down at me that perfect smile. I knew it was fake because he was really just a big blob. That's why his teeth always looked perfect. They weren't real.

"Done," Bob said as he stepped back from me.

I didn't understand what he had done so I reached up and felt my hair. It was dry. "Holy shit, how did you do that?" I asked.

"I absorbed the water," he told me as he sat on the couch.

"That's fucking amazing," I said as I continued to run my hands through my dry hair.

"Would you like me to dry off your shirt?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said without thinking as I stepped in front of where he sat on the couch.

Bob put his arms around me and ran his hands up my back. He caressed down my arms and along my sides. Finally, he glided his hands over my stomach and then up to my breasts, where he cupped them, one big bra-restrained globe in each hand.

Except for the collar, my shirt was dry, which was amazing, but that wasn't my main thought in that moment. Bob's hands on my breasts made my nipples hard and I could have easily given in at that moment and let him show me what he wanted to, but questions were popping up in my head and I needed answers before I let it go any farther.

"Bob, wait," I said. "I need to know something."

Bob pulled his hands away and looked at me. "I understand, Honey. Come, sit down next to me. Ask me anything."

I smiled at that. That was so typical Bob; understanding, considerate, loving. I sat down beside him but I kept a couple feet of space between us. I said, "You are a shapeshifter that reproduces by mitosis, right?"

He nodded.

"So, why do you want to have sex with me? You don't have a sex drive, do you?" I asked.

"My species is very social We like to touch and be touched. It gives us a great feeling of connection and belonging," he told me.

"You want to have sex with me for the connection. Isn't it the same as holding hands? There's no physical pleasure for you in having sex."

"There is great pleasure in the touching," he told me. "Touching all of your softest places gives me more pleasure than touching anything else. So, while I may not have an actual orgasm, I do receive physical pleasure from it."

"So, you fake the orgasms."

He nodded, "I never wanted you to find out. I was afraid you would leave me. I love you with all my heart and—"

"Do you have a heart?" I interrupted.

"Um, well, no," he admitted.

I thought about that for a moment. No heart. No orgasms. Everything was fake. How did I know the love wasn't fake? There was one more thing I needed to know before I tackled that subject. I said, "Why be a man instead of a woman?"

"Women have soft places," he said simply.

"Why not be a lesbian?" I persisted.

He sighed and said, "We are natural envelopers. We surround our food. If we are confronted by a hostile creature our natural reaction is to envelop it and suffocate it. To be a woman would be easy. To envelop a cock inside me would be very natural and second-nature to me. In other words, boring. But for me to be inside of you is not natural at all. It feels nasty and wicked. I love it."

"So you do enjoy it," I said with a smile.

"Of course I do, Honey. Do you know what I enjoy most about it? It's the fact that I give you pleasure. I love you and I feel happiest when you have an orgasm."

"What does love feel like to you?" I asked. I really needed to know.

Bob thought about that for a minute and then he said, "Well, for humans, when they find a mate that is physically attractive their body releases chemicals that they interpret as love. When that wears off, after a few weeks or months, if they have a relationship they consider worthy they transform that chemical love into a more permanent affectionate love."

"You don't have the same chemicals or the same drives. What do you feel?" I asked.

"My species is very social, like I said, and rarely form monogamous bonds, from what I understand. But we, my dad and I, are different. I am on your planet and, except for my dad, I am alone. I need to feel connected to someone. I feel love the same as you do. I don't want to lose you. I want to make you happy."

It did sound like love to me. The biological imperatives weren't there like in a human but didn't that make the love more real? "Well, okay," I sighed. "Maybe you do love me. The problem is, I love Bob. I feel like I don't even know you."

"What?" Bob said. "You know me in every way that matters. You know what I like and what I don't. All those hopes and dreams and plans that we share; that's real. This doesn't change anything for me. I still want all those things for us. You may not have known what I am, but you definitely know who I am. Nobody knows me better than you."

Was that true? Would it be naive to believe that I knew this alien that I had been married to for three years, and known for four, as well as if he had been human? He had kept a huge thing hidden from me, the fact that he wasn't human, but hadn't we shared everything else? Could I really blame him for hiding his true nature? "Oh, Bob, I want to believe that's true," I admitted.

"It is true, Honey. Let me prove it to you. Tell me what you want," he insisted.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Honey, now that you know what I am, I can become anything you want me to be," he explained as he got off the couch to stand in front of me. "You like Tom Cruise!"

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