Greta looked in the mirror, and she still couldn't see what was wrong with her.
Maybe the leopard print spandex outfit didn't suit her as well as she had thought. What girl couldn't do to pick out a few more outfits? But that still was no reason for her to be a jilted bride. Guess there was no accounting for taste on her groom's part.
Her multi-colored scales, emerald and lemon and lime, all sparkled. Her long, silky, soft green hair fell to her waist and was just about perfect in every way imaginable.
She had full lips, big eyes, and long lashes that even any human woman would be jealous of, and she knew how to accentuate them with human cosmetics. Her lips were shimmery with crimson gloss, and her purplish-pink eye shadow and thick mascara made her eyes, now filled with an incredible amount of longing, stand out even more.
Hard to believe she had once been a mindless, genderless cretin like the rest of her species. That day in the secret research lab of the Clamp building, she had found that vial with the Venus symbol. Suddenly, she was flushed with femininity. She felt needs that her ability to asexually reproduce just would not satisfy. And, suddenly, exposed to another gender in their species, the other Gremlins no longer seemed that asexual, either. They would make passes in their Philistine ways, grabbing at her ass or her tits or trying to steal kisses from her. From those full, absolutely incredible lips of hers. They should be so lucky. But those primitive oafs held no appeal for her. Greta liked human men. Human men knew how to treat a lady.
She thought she'd finally found that perfect human man in Forster, the head of Clamp security. It had been love at first sight, her climbing up to his shoulders to mark him as hers by covering him in as many kisses as possible.
"Don't be afraid of how you feel," she had told him, but the more he resisted, the more hot and bothered she had become.
Nothing made her hotter than a guy playing hard-to-get.
By the end of the night, she'd trapped him on one of the top floors. All the elevators were out and the electronic doors were all locked. When she cornered him in the public restroom, she heard the voice of his boss over his cordless phone, telling him to "Keep his pants on."
Greta had no intention of Forster's pants staying on. There was nowhere for him to go and plenty of time to kill.
She dimmed the lights, giggling as she entered. She watched his eyes widen in horror as he saw her wedding dress. Oh, men! So anxious about their performance on their wedding night!
He was all the way backed in to a corner, so he finally surrendered. As she puckered her lips, he shrugged his shoulders and slid down the wall to be at her level. She pressed her mouth over his until his face turned blue, then ripped his pants off and rode him for hours on end across the tile floor.
But the first chance he had to escape the building, he'd run away as fast as he could, and she hadn't seen him since.
Greta immediately went looking for something to lift her spirits, and found a nice hotel that had just been opened. Terrorizing the hotel amused her, almost as much as it would any gremlin, anarchy being their forte, but not for long. When all the guests had fled in terror, she was left with an empty resort to roam.
She took another admiring look at her own killer curves in the mirror, wondering how her husband couldn't be missing this right now. Sure, the other members of her species were positively terrifying, with their almost total lack of human characteristics and their only desire being to cause as much chaos as possible. But she had full lips and soft hair and feminine curves, and the burning desire to bring someone she fell in love with as much pleasure as possible. She didn't understand why he wasn't ready to grow old and happy with her.
"His loss," she thought, then headed down to the lobby to raid what was left of the snack counter.
That's when she spotted the gas station across the street. Three total hunks were walking out of the gas station, twelve packs of beer on their shoulders. One was wearing a hoodie, one a long sleeved T-shirt, and one a varsity jacket, all bearing a "U of G" label.
Greta ran out the hotel's main entrance, scampering through the moonlight to get a closer look.
"Successful beer run," the muscular blonde in the varsity jacket said. "Can't wait to get back to the dorm. This party's going to be off the chain."
"Got that right, Chris. Hey, Max, you got that other stuff we needed?" the other muscular guy in the hoodie said.
"Would you keep it down, Tom?" Max replied. "I don't need to get arrested. Or expelled."
They put the beer in the trunk of the car. There was too much of it to fully close the trunk, so the jock used a bungee cord to keep it as closed as he could. Greta could see that the number on the back of his jacket was "69."
When the three cute guys got into the car, Greta slipped into the trunk. As they drove off, she helped herself to a beer, easily twisting the lid off the bottle as she thought of the buffet of beautiful young people she was about to indulge in.