Mandy and the Tentacle Monster: Chapter 28

Now that we have a plan, I’m feeling very optimistic and even excited about having kids. Even if they have tentacles instead of legs, and all the scans confirm that they do. And they’re all boys. Homeworlders are all male and only produce male offspring. I feel like this is evolutionarily shortsighted, but whatever. Whoever designed them must not have been thinking ahead. Anyway, now I’m trying to think up some boy names.

“How can we assign a designation to people we have not even met yet, who are not fully developed? The only appropriate designations right now are First, Second, Third and Fourth,” Seven objects.

“No way, these little cuties get real names from the moment they hatch. None of your boring numeric designations. What do you think of the name ‘Picard’?”

I watch him try to pronounce it.

“How about ‘Riker’?”

Seven can’t pronounce most human sounds. It’s easy to forget that because the translation matrix makes communication so seamless. I wouldn’t want to pick out names that their dad can’t even say. Or I suppose we could give them each a human name and a Homeworlder designation.

We are going ahead with the surgery tomorrow, so Seven and I are in the medbay doing one more scan and getting everything ready. The eggs need to stay in the water until they hatch, which will take a couple of months. We have a big tank right next to the table to transfer them into. The tank is on a cart so Seven can move the whole thing into our room.

We go over the steps for the surgery. First, Baht is going to bite me on the wrist. This should deliver euphoria-inducing venom. Then Seven is going to strap me down on the table and have the AI start the surgery. It will take less than 10 minutes. Then I’ll be put in the regen tank for an hour, coming out good as new. By the time Baht’s venom wears off, I’ll be relaxing in my room. My body will be my own again, no longer hosting anything. Hopefully, I can keep it that way for at least a few years.

“Is there Homeworlder birth control?” I direct this question to the med-bay AI.

“Define “birth control.””

I think for a second, then explain, “Birth control is a medication or medical procedure to prevent conception or implantation of eggs or embryos.”

“No.”

Huh. All this technology and no birth control?

“Can you develop some kind of birth control for Seven or myself?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Under article five, subsection 3 of the Articles of Reconciliation of the Intergalactic Order of Federated Planets, the development of any substance or device to interfere with the pro generation of sentient life forms is categorized as contributing to terrorist acts in peace times or contributing to genocidal war crimes in times of war. It is thus illegal to develop chemical contraception, my programming disallows me to develop illegal substances.”

Giving us birth control would be a genocidal war crime? The heck?

“Tiny?” Seven calls my attention, his skin all aswirl with concerned blues, “what crime are you inquiring about?”

I huff in exasperation, “I want to not be incubating your egg-bound progeny every time we have sex! On Earth we have all kinds of birth-control. How come all you aliens developed space travel and advanced medicine, but no birth control?”

“Birth control,” he repeats, obviously working out the concept, “But, we do not have to breed. We could decide not to.”

I study him for a second, trying to work out this puzzle.

“Seven, are you saying you implanted four eggs in me on purpose?” I ask quietly.

“Yes.”

“WHY?!” I may have yelled.

“You asked me to, remember?”

“When?” I demand, “I would remember asking you to deposit four eggs in my uterus!”

“You said “Seven, breed me!” And I did. Then you asked me to do it again, and so I did. Four times, you asked me to.”

“I said “Fuck me,” not, “Breed me.”” I enunciate clearly.

“Tiny, please do not be upset. I can hear that you are saying two different words. They are both translating to “Breed.” Is this not an accurate translation?”

“No! Humans fuck for fun! We have birth control and all kinds of methods to prevent conception because we don’t want to get pregnant every time!”

He looks at me wide-eyed and I notice that his skin has turned a dark grey.

“Seven, if you implanted those eggs on purpose, why were you surprised when I told you about it?”

“I did not know if they would take. I assumed they had not when you treated me with disfavor upon my return,” his voice is rather flat and quiet.

“I never treated you with disfavor!”

“You scolded me and then ignored me in favor of Baht,” he reminds me.

I huff in exasperation, “I was breaking up the fight.”

He is as still as I’ve ever seen him, all his tentacle arms appearing stunned and stiff. And his color is now a cold, steel gray.

“It’s ok,” I try and reassure him, “I guess we don’t need birth control if you can’t knock me up by accident.”

I touch his shoulder. Usually, if he’s upset and I touch him, the place where I touch will lighten and turn pink or purple. It’s not changing, it’s like he doesn’t notice I’m touching him.

“Seven.”

He looks at me, his eyes look kind of distantly focused though.

I shake his shoulder.

“It’s fine. We’re not fighting. It was a misunderstanding,” I give him another shake, trying to snap him out of this mood.

“No, Tiny, it was not only a misunderstanding. You wanted pleasure from me. Not to host my young. Not to be my breed-mate,” he takes a breath, “I made you host my young against your will.”

“No! It’s not like that!”

“It is! You did not want anything more than pleasurable copulation, right? This is what you are telling me?”

I don’t say anything.

“And now you are implanted with young you are not biologically capable of carrying. You require surgery. You will be injected with Arana-Vora venom so that you may endure it,” he continues shading everything in the worst possible light. “At the end of your ordeal, you will have four younglings and a breed-mate that you did not ask for or consent to.”

“That’s not how things are Seven. I don’t feel that way. I love you.”

“You are attached to me because you are hosting my eggs. It is hormonal.”

His dismissiveness irks me and I press my lips firmly together, trying to think things through before I speak again. How can I convince him that he is not some predator and I’m not his victim?

“I have harmed you, Tiny,” he says with finality.

I shake my head, “No. Why do you keep saying these things? I’m telling you, I’m not harmed. I wanted you. I didn’t know we could breed. If I had known it was a possibility, I would have wanted to wait, but eventually I would have asked,” I don’t really know if I’m telling the truth. Maybe I would have wanted to start a family with Seven. Eventually.

“Ok, so you’re saying it’s hormonal? That my feelings for you aren’t real?” I ask.

He nods.

“Well then lets table this conversation. Put it out of our minds until I recover from surgery. I won’t be hormone-driven then will I? We will revisit this topic when you can believe what I say.”

He gives me a long contemplative look and then seems to relax each tentacle and his color lightens just a smidge to fog-gray.

“Until then act like you like me,” I needle him.

“I do like you!” His color lightens even more and turns cotton-candy pink where I’m touching.

“Well, good, because I like you too.”

I grab his hand, interlacing my fingers with his long, clawed ones.

Giving his hand a squeeze, I say, “Lets get some rest. Busy day tomorrow.”