by Lyn Gala
“Within tolerance health,” Rick said calmly, but tentacles began to massage Max’s stomach. Those little tentacles on the underside of the big tentacle all worked together to press at the offending muscles until the cramp eased. Unfortunately, Rick seemed to feel that Max’s cock was part of his stomach and involved in the whole cramping problem. A tentacle wrapped around Max’s dick, teasing him with tiny finger tentacles. When Rick squeezed gently, Max bucked up into him. And wasn’t that embarrassing. Max would have stopped if his body hadn’t hijacked all higher brain function.
He thrust into Rick’s grip, and the friction against his cock combined with the stretch in his ass generated fireworks. Max’s whole body went stiff and then jerked twice before he came all over himself and Rick. Creamy flecks landed everywhere... Max’s stomach, Rick’s tentacles, the table. Max collapsed back and gasped. Option one, he was having a heart attack. Option two, it had been too damn long since his last orgasm. Option three, when shoving things up the ass for fun and pleasure, tentacles worked better than dicks. Max was leaning toward three, although two was also true, and one was a distinct possibility.
Rick’s tentacle was now painfully large, but he was slowly pulling his tentacles back. No more of the hard tugging or undulating, just a slow, steady withdrawal. So the guy did know how to be careful.
“Query. Health. Human.”
“Oh, I’m fucking great,” Max said. “Thank you for asking. You’re much more polite than the typical tentacle monster, although honestly I don’t have experience with the non-fictional kind.” Max knew Rick couldn’t understand more than a word or two of that, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about much right now. Rick had reduced Max’s thoughts to “tentacles good.”
“Query. Health.” Rick moved closer so his misshapen head floated over Max.
Max blinked up at his alien employer. “Answer. Health great. Good. Awesome. Fabulous.”
Two tentacles curled up close to the head of Max’s cock while the last of the tentacle inside Max slipped free. “Query.” Rick blasted the air, but he touched a milky white drop.
“Answer. Cum. Semen. Sperm. Reproductive fluids. Dick juice. Pearls. I had a boyfriend who called it that last one, and honestly, I don’t get it. It’s not a solid, and if my semen were made out of pearls, I’m pretty sure it would hurt. Maybe he was trying to tell me he was interested in sounding, but if so, he was way too subtle about it.” That had been Max’s second real boyfriend, and the first one he’d been willing to touch when the lights were on. Sure, his family and friends were supportive, but Max had still been a little weirded out about touching another guy where someone might see, even if the someone in question was Max.
He assumed heteros were equally weird, given the sort of shit they talked about on daytime television, like that one woman who was in danger of a divorce because she wouldn’t let her husband see her without makeup. Max wasn’t that bad. Hell, he didn’t even own makeup. At least he hadn’t since that brief goth phase his sophomore year.
“Query. Health,” Rick said.
Max levered himself up and sat on the edge of the table. He was pretty sure he was worrying the boss. “Query. Offspring,” Max said. A little change of subject sounded like a good idea.
“Offspring. Health. Proficient.” With that, Rick swiveled on his leg and undulated his way out of the examination room.
“You didn’t even buy me flowers,” Max complained softly. Honestly, though, he was grateful that he wasn’t losing the job because his gut bacteria was toxic. Losing this job would suck. Accidentally killing alien children would suck worse.
Chapter Five
With a sigh, Max cracked his back and stood. He was pretty sure the “chair” Rick had found him was an alien torture device. The sloping top and awkward height didn’t lend themselves to working on the translation matrix for long periods of time. And like all the “rooms” in the ship, there was barely space for him to stand and take two steps. At least this room was larger than his sleeping quarters. The single-sized fold out bed filled every inch, and he had to lift it to access the washing or toilet. If it weren’t for the fact that every surface had stiff padding, he’d feel like he was on a submarine.
And the computer didn’t make his life easier. Either the computer thought Max was a brain damaged four-year old or the system was set up to maximize frustration. After identifying twenty different colors as “blue,” Max never wanted to see the color again. And he couldn’t figure out how the system chose topics. One hour he would be identifying colors, and the next looking at pictures of impossibly complex machines as the computer highlighted certain parts for translations.
Maybe that’s why the computer thought he was an idiot.
The door opened, and relief washed through Max. Awkward half-conversations with Rick were infinitely better than working on the computer matrix. “Rick, my buddy, my friend. Save me from the evil computer.”
One of Rick’s tentacles twitched. Max needed to up his game. On good days he could get three or four of them to curl. “Translation matrix has failed,” Rick said. “Define evil.”
“Evil. Sadistic. Serving the dark forces. Causing pain. The enjoyment of others’ pain. Evil.”
“Query. Correlation Darth Vader.”
“Exactly,” Max said happily. He might have been trapped light years from home with no idea of where home might actually be, but at least he could corrupt an entire new species. Max took his pleasure where he could find it.
“Query. Do does what how Max designate computer to call Darth Vader?”
That had been as clear as crude oil. Max made a mental note to work with the computer on the structure of questions. “Answer. No. I dislike computer now. Darth Vader is evil always.”
“Computer dislikes you,” Rick said. Either the computer had an artificial intelligence or Rick was developing an attitude. Max liked it. Rick waved his talking-tentacle, the one most likely to twitch or curl when communicating. “Come for health to offspring.”
“Query. When will I see offspring?”
Rick’s answer was a cacophony of untranslatable notes. So far the computer and Max had found no common ground on time, despite the fact that the computer at the common dock could calculate years. Or maybe it hadn’t. Maybe it had been trying to communicate something other than time. Either way, Max sucked at estimating a minute, because this computer kept informing him that his examples failed to match. It would have helped if the military ship hadn’t confiscated every piece of technology, including his wrist watch. Until he figured out how to count to sixty-Mississippi accurately, any discussions of time ended in failure.
Apparently they would go pick up the kids when Rick was good and ready. Until then, Max was free to wander the ship and work on translations. “Right. So what are we doing for the health of offspring who are not even on the ship?”
Rick pivoted on his leg tentacle and left the room.
Max muttered, “Okay. Sure. I’d be happy to go with you. Thank you so much for asking.” Sarcasm was so much more effective when the other person understood English. In some ways Rick was the best roommate he’d ever had. Rick would not only listen to Max ramble on about something hopelessly geeky, but he asked questions that made it clear he listened and thought about what Max had said.
In other ways, living with him was all kinds of frustrating.
Rick took the passage that would take them to the interior of the ship. So far Max had focused more on the outer corridors. They were larger and allowed Max to run laps. His explorations had revealed that the ship was less a maze and more a spider web of corridors that crossed and re-crossed.
Experienced servicemen and women loved to play head games with newbies lost on various ships and bases. Navigating them were infamously difficult. However, Max dared anyone to compare an airbase to the crazy logic of alien ships.
“Query. Where?” Max asked.
“There,” Rick answered.
“I should have seen that coming
. You are very Yoda-like. Yoda was Luke Skywalker’s teacher. I should probably tell you that Luke is the real hero of the story. I just like Darth Vader’s story more.”
“Darth Vader evil.”
“Yes.”
Rick stopped and leaned toward Max. “Query. Evil, preference for.”
Max had stuck his foot in his mouth that time. “No. I don’t like evil. I find evil interesting to talk about.” The last thing he needed was for Rick to decide that Max couldn’t be trusted around children. As it was, he kept pressing about Max’s time in the military. Maybe he still had Max on a probationary period. If so, he was one seriously overprotective parent of indiscriminate gender.
Rick bugled something untranslatable and then headed down the corridor again. Hopefully Max had passed the test and convinced his boss that he wouldn’t turn the children to the dark side. However, Max should probably avoid Star Wars discussions in the future.
Maybe Babylon 5 with its message that evil was more about misunderstanding and selfish manipulations would be more in keeping. Then he could give Rick the impression that he was a conniving manipulator and not a psychopath. That would be so much better. “Or I need to learn to keep my mouth closed,” Max said aloud. He had always been a social man and this isolation was driving him a little batty. If he had to police his language, he might have the psychotic break Rick clearly worried about.
A door slid open and Rick glided into a room with a giant pool in the center. “Oh my God. Is that a swimming pool?” It was more likely a radioactive cooling tank, but a man could dream. This was the largest open space he had seen yet. Gently sloping sides went all the way around the room and in the center was a round, larger-than-Olympic sized pool. Quick currents moved out from four pipes that rose from under the water and each had stair-step rocks around it so it created small waterfalls that darted down the uneven surface, randomly changing their chosen path from one second to another.
“Query. Define swim.”
That was tricky. If the water was contaminated or radioactive, Max absolutely did not want to give Rick the idea that he wanted to get in. So instead of answering, he asked a question of his own. “Query. Is water safe?”
“Healthy,” Rick assured him, and then, as if to prove his point, he walked straight down the slope and into the water. As the water rose over his tentacles, Rick began to wave them in octopus-like ways. Max looked away. Rick’s nudity might be normal for him, but every once in a while, Max had pornographic thoughts that made him feel like an ass. After all, Rick had only wanted to do a physical exam, and thanks to Max and his uncontrolled dick, things had gotten awkward.
“Query. Define swim,” Rick asked again. The water muted his natural voice so it sounded more musical, but the voice from the translator on his hat sounded the same. Max glanced at his wrist translator. If it died, Max would be more screwed than ever. However, if he took it off, he wouldn’t be able to speak to Rick. Max moved to the door, and in a millisecond, Rick was out of the water and standing near him, all his tentacles twitching.
“Answer,” Max said. “Swim is to move, to walk, in the water.”
Rick’s tentacles stilled. “Query. Human preference for swim.”
“Answer. It varies. I love to swim. Translator. Leave here. I will swim.” Since the floors sloped slightly, Max didn’t want to have such an important piece of equipment in the room. He opened the door and set the translator next to the wall in the corridor. Now Rick wouldn’t be able to understand anything he said, although Rick’s translator would still be able to generate English.
Once the door closed, Max stripped off his clothes. As much as the tiny sink in his quarters sucked for washing clothes, he should’ve worn them into the water, but then he wouldn’t have had anything to put on when he got out. The ship wasn’t particularly warm.
Taking the translator off freed Max to speak his mind. “If this were a porn, I know exactly how it would end.” He tested the water temperature with his foot. It had a touch of chill, just enough to encourage swimming rather than lazing around on a floaty. Throwing caution and the risk of radioactive contamination to the wind, Max belly flopped into the water and then dove under the surface. The four currents made the water unpredictable. He dove deep before touching the sloping bottom of the pool.
When he broke the surface, he gasped, both because of the need for air and because Rick was inches away, a large eye right in Max’s face.
Max flopped backward. “Hey. Warn a guy,” he complained before he did a few backstrokes.
“Query. Swim Max currently?” Rick asked.
“Yes,” Max said, even though without the translator, he didn’t give Rick good odds of understanding. Maybe he had figured out the simpler English words—those Max used often. He flipped around and switched to a breast stroke to cover the distance to the far side. Most rooms on the ship were little more than cubicles with one entrance. Others were central hubs with a dozen exits. This room had two doors. Weird. Max was equally baffled about why aliens would install a swimming pool. Sure, The Doctor had had one, and watching Leela swim had nearly made Max reconsider his sexual orientation. However, fictional aliens didn’t have much in common with real ones.
More than that, Max had no idea how one navigated with this much unstable and unsecured weight. If the ship had any gravitational forces pulling at it, the mass of the water would be an absolute nightmare. He had certified on a 135 Stratotanker, and that thing had flown like a fucking tank with wings. But this pool held more water than that old beast had carried fuel. Rick had mad piloting skills or the computer had an autopilot with crazy computing capabilities.
Max dove under the surface again and kicked through the water. The slide of warm tentacles across his leg startled him so much that he lost his air and had to surface fast. Again, Rick was right next to him. “Okay, you have to keep your tentacles to yourself because I am having pornographic flashbacks to my last checkup. Honestly, you could make a killing as a naughty doctor if you ever moved to earth. I know people who would pay a whole lotta money for a little tentacle love.”
Max backstroked away from the tentacles floating in the water around Rick’s head. “I feel totally guilty about how I reacted to what, for you, was a health exam. I know human doctors are generally unamused when someone comes all over them. Of course, I came on myself as much as you, but that’s not the point.”
Max wasn’t sure what the point was. Rick swam closer, but he was moving slower now.
“You know something is wrong, but you won’t ever guess what. I’m caught between humiliation and guilt. You know, I’ve jerked off a couple of times thinking about your tentacles, and considering you’re my boss, that’s in the not-good column. I turned a medical exam into a sexual situation when you don’t even understand what happened. I’d confess what a shitty human being I am, only I don’t think the translation matrix is up to conveying feelings yet. If it were, you probably would have shared your thoughts. Hopefully you’re confused and not grossed out by the human spunk you got on your tentacles.”
Max turned in the water and swam away. He saw Rick swimming for the edge, his head held up while all his tentacles did the spread and swoosh thing Max had seen in videos of octopuses. He climbed out and headed for the door, and Max switched over to floating. The current dragged him closer to a tiny island with a miniature waterfall. When he drifted close enough, he put his hand out and let warmer water run over his palm.
Rick didn’t even let the door close before he returned. He swam closer and raised his tentacle with Max’s translator held firmly in his finger tentacles and water running off it.
Max sighed. “I seriously hope that’s waterproof.” He fastened it around his wrist.
“Query. Human swim, human walk, preference.”
Either the translator was improving or Max was getting better at filling in the words Rick didn’t use. “Preference walk. Swimming is enjoyment.”
Rick gave another whale blast and Max was grateful
the water dulled the noise. Rick then added. “Query. Correlation swim and run.”
Max laughed. When he’d started running the outer corridors, that had upset Rick to no end. It had taken Max almost an hour to pry all Rick’s tentacles off him and explain that humans were healthier and happier if they ran. Rick pretended to understand, but every time Max ran, Rick would show up. Unless Max missed his guess, Rick considered him slightly brain damaged. At least Rick supported his swimming.
“Answer. High correlation swim and run. I enjoy both.” Max gasped when tentacles gently brushed his leg. Rick made self-control difficult. Max swam backward to get a little more distance between them.
“Humans are...” Rick ended with a belching sound. Max was pretty sure he didn’t want to know what Rick was saying. He gave another set of blasts, this time a mixture of burps and whale song. The translator only sent through “children” and “healthy.”
“That’s good. Query. Can I see them?” Max swam farther away, but Rick followed. Another brush of tentacle against ankle made Max think such dirty, dirty thoughts. He was lucky the water was cold as a bitch or his cock would’ve been impossible to control.
“Not visible. See at time to come.”
“As paranoid fathers go, you’re good. You’re good. If you have a daughter, I suspect a shotgun will feature in her future dating life.”
“Translation matrix—”
“Failure. Yeah. Shocking.” Life hated Max. But if the only way to improve communication was to go back to the damn matrix improvement project, he would have to suck it up. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do until Rick decided to go pick up his kids.