Note from Piper: I have decided to add an "alien" tag for extraterrestrial stories. When I have time, I will go back and add this tag to the other stories that need it. I think a tentacle tag gets too specific for the information that I want to convey in tags, but Fire wanted to give you guys a heads-up here, so this is your warning that this story involves tentacles.
How to Train Your Human
Whether you are a new human caretaker or just thinking about becoming one, this little data file will tell you everything you need to know to start you on the way to this rewarding and beautiful hobby.
Humans comprise a race of level 1.0 thinkers with upright posture. They have one of the shortest natural lifespans of any known thinker in Protectoration territory (a lifespan that can be extended considerably with your thoughtful care) and they make up for this by being extremely fast breeders. Therefore restrictions apply as to the number of humans you can house, ordinarily just one at a time. But these large, cuddly creatures provide plenty of entertainment all by themselves. Remember, don't risk unchecked breeding explosion: buy your human only from licensed dealers who obtain them from the legal designated preserves.
He watched his human as the delivery machine released it into the habitat. He hadn't exactly wanted one at first, but after Uncle and Aunt had decided and he had started to read the quality care guide he became more and more interested. He was scared, briefly, when he saw how tall it was. But that soon turned to a sort of awe as he marveled at how easily it supported its center of gravity well off the floor. The human leg is a wonder that must be seen to be believed, he thought. And that was not the end of his appreciation. Nobody else he knew of his budding age kept more than a level 0.5 thinker; those you could teach tricks and they procreated sometimes, but his human would be a whole half level higher. He would talk to it and it could hold a real conversation. In fact, good human care practically demanded it. He wasn't sure what they were going to talk about, exactly: humans didn't seem to be very bright as a species. Probably procreation, which would be illegal to actually do with his new human because he didn't want it breeding all over, but they could talk about it. There were two chapters on the subject, kind of, in the instruction file. Humans did enough procreation that you could talk about it without being bored.
Its outer skin was a sort of whitish-pink and as smoothly textured as his own. A large number of fine yellow-gold fiber strands, each hanging loosely from one end, hid part of its head. "Hello? . . . Is anybody here?" it asked. He was delighted: his lessons in decoding atmospheric pressure waves were a success and he should be able to communicate easily in its preferred mode.
Meanwhile the human had made its way to the sleeping platform, and was testing the surface. He hoped the gel-filled membrane would meet its approval. The care file suggested humans spent a good deal of time in bed and he wanted to show Uncle and Aunt that he was taking the best care of it. After a few hard shoves, it seemed to approve, climbing up onto the platform. Then it scrambled to its feet and began to "jump" on top of the mattress; evidently it wanted to test the durability as well. He worried as it tumbled several times in the course of this investigation. Thankfully the human was unharmed, and even began producing nonverbal sound cues related to happiness and excitement.
Just as he had read, humans loved playing in bed.
Eventually it settled down, face flushed in a sign of arousal and satisfaction. "Cool stuff," it said. "I wonder if I can get a TV to watch 'Power Princess: Super Sparkles.' I hope they don't have all shows where the slimy monsters are the good guys. Stupid aliens."
Based on the care instructions perhaps he should wait a little longer, but his new human was just too exciting. So he shifted his skin to display a color well inside the human's sensory profile and projected a modulated sound: "Greetings."
Chapter 1: Basic Habitat
Humans readily adapt to a variety of habitat modules, but to keep them healthy it is best to conform to certain parameters of atmosphere and gravitation that mimic the conditions of their homeworld. If you want your human to thrive, it is also recommended to adjust the ambient temperature upwards. It will be somewhat warm, though still comfortable, for you and considerably easier for your human to self-regulate its body temperature.
Humans should be provided with a cozy place to sleep, a period of alternate mode brain activity during which they interact minimally with their physical surrounds. (The furnishings modeled for sleep are also primary procreation areas.) Being accustomed to planetary cycles of light and shadow cast by a single local star, it is also recommended to have both automatic and voluntary controls for the level of illumination. Humans rarely enjoy absolute darkness, so do fix a minimum for ambient light.
Your new human may be confused and wary when you first introduce it to its new home. It is generally best to allow the human some time to become acquainted with the habitat before approaching it.
Tabby had pretty much worn out the novelty of bouncing naked on the big white bed, and she was wondering what else fun she had to do in her new alien bedroom, and whether everything she played would be naked from now on, and why everything here was colored white, when she thought she heard a voice. Immediately she scrambled off the bed: no jumping had been the rule at home and every grown-up she knew talked like the aliens were super strict. The floor was strange yet comfortable: not soft like carpet but definitely fuzzy, like the velvet inside of Mommy's expensive necklace box.
"Is somebody there?" she asked.
"I am here on the pedestal," replied a tiny voice. When she looked in that direction some sort of yellow blob was waving at her. It sat atop narrow, white, circular steps in front of what looked like a blob-sized doggie door.
"Um, hi," she said. She felt understandably shy about meeting her first alien and held her hands over her private parts. She was old enough to remember her lessons not to talk to strangers as well, but on her own in an alien's house that probably couldn't be helped. "Is that as loud as you can talk?"
"I am pleased to make your acquaintance sirrmadam. I will try to adjust my sound projection. What is your name?" The alien sounded funny, like it was reading off a list. Since it wasn't speaking alien language, maybe it was.
"My name is Tabitha Lucy der Krooner," she enunciated proudly; she had already figured out something helpful about her new circumstances. "But you may call me Tabby if you want. What's your name?"
"Adjusted for human senses my designation would be . . ." and then the blob started changing hue very fast and making a variety of wet, whistling sounds.
"You talk by flashing colors? That's so pretty." She innocently stepped closer to the alien. She thought it might look a little like an octopus if it uncurled; sitting there, the mass of arms seemed more like a pile of extra-plump hot dogs covered in mustard. "But I can't change my skin like that. And the sound part is like you farted. I don't think I can say that either. Don't you have a real name I can use?"
"I do not think so."
"I'm going to call you Xen."
"Zing," the alien replied, not getting it right. "I have never had a human name before."
"No: Xen. Zzz-eehh-nnn. Spelled X, E, N," she corrected. "With an X," to be sure it understood.
But the alien had something else to talk about. "I am glad to see you are touching yourself, Tabby. You must be very comfortable here. I am happy. I tried to make this a good place for you."
Before it had finished speaking she clasped her arms behind her back. "I'm not touching myself," she argued, politeness forgotten. "That's dirty."
Chapter 2: Food and Waste
Humans require a steady supply of amines, carbohydrates, lipids, and water, which they ingest with mouths. Appropriate Type FFIGH nutritional supplies may be ordered from a specialty supplier. With pure water being a relatively large requirement by volume it is recommended to supply a second dish.
Human molecular physics is relatively inefficient and produces several products of waste. Carbon dioxide is expelled during normal respiration and may be taken care of with routine atmospheric maintenance for the environment. Two more are easily disposed of by copying the human invention called the toilet. Lastly, your human will from time to time desire to wash its skin using clean water distinct from its drinking supply.
Left to their own devices, humans will naturally attend to these functions for themselves. Because waste processing (other than respiration) includes the attendant removal of clothing, customs in their native habitat ordinarily espouse a measure of privacy from uninvited social contact. (See next chapter for more about human social signaling.) A screen or even a second room is preferred. However, if your human trusts you enough to allow you within the bathroom area, it should be noted that the washing basin/cubicle is the second most popular site for human procreation after the sleeping surface. Encourage your human to have fun and you will too!
Xen considered his newly created designation. The human's names, as could be said of its whole language, were so abrupt without any intergenerational conjunctions. Like poetry, something at which his race was not as clever as some. Conversing with the human was going to be a greater challenge than he previously expected. No wonder Uncle and Aunt had stressed his being mature enough to care for a thinker.
He had to keep at least 74% attention on the human in front of him: it had just expressed dissatisfaction with its cleanliness. "I apologize, Tabby," he told it. "I failed to anticipate that you would wish to bathe upon your arrival. A basin is provided in the screened area near your bed. Do you wish me to remain here or may I accompany you?"
"You want to watch me take a bath?"
"Yes, please, if also you are willing."
"Um, okaay."
He slid off his entry pedestal. The human, Tabby, scrunched its face into an expression that he hoped was benign curiosity. "You really are like a hot dog octopus," it told him. A statement like that required him to divert more attention toward cross-referencing the language data for a period. The unknown species it cited defied analysis, but he decided that he could safely respond with generalized logic: "I am smarter and denser than all kinds of octopus."
"You're silly."
Surprisingly, the human bent its legs to crouch down nearer his own level. One of its hands moved toward him, the forefinger tentacle outstretched. Based on the instruction file he had expected it would take much longer to establish a rapport, yet already the human was offering a "handshake." He gingerly raised a tentacle to meet it . . . .
Tabby abruptly stood upright again and pulled away. "Gotta go potty," it called out as it trotted toward the bathroom. Those long legs were so fast; the buttocks muscles in particular flexed entrancingly as it moved away. Absolutely wondrous: nearly 8.5% of his attention right know was taken up in anticipating how they would feel as they swiveled while entwined with his tentacles; maybe even his inner tentacles, he thought guiltily. But then, this was his very own human, wasn't it? Why shouldn't he be able to expose himself if their relationship developed well?
By the time he reached self-justification, he had undulated across the floor and around the end of the privacy panel. His human was sitting on the toilet appliance. Its head swiveled immediately as it perceived his motion.
"EEEE! Xen get out!"
Of course he immediately retreated to the other side of the partition. Humans were usually very tame, but its combination of height and speed demonstrated how much force it could muster. He blended his colors against the habitat background in case it pursued him. Still, this was unlike the friendly behavior it had demonstrated previously. And admittedly he had become infatuated enough to want to believe it felt the same toward him. So he essayed a gentle reminder: "I did not intend to disturb you, Tabby, but you said earlier that I could enter the bathroom with you."
"That's different!"
Different . . . and no further elucidation: this was rarified poetry indeed, challenging him to navigate a maze of linguistic context on intuition alone. Keeping a human was going to be so wonderfully more intellectual than his old budrock!
Chapter 3: Social Interactions
Humans on their native planet(s) engage in a variety of social interactions on a regular basis. For the sake of your human's well-being, make an effort to converse with it once or twice per light cycle. There are numerous dialects of the human language; training memories are available for the most common forms. If by chance your chosen human uses a speech pattern that you don't recognize, try following the standard contact protocol for establishing common vocabulary and you should be talking to your human in no time. Humans also communicate via gestures, especially fine muscle movements of the facial region; these, unfortunately, are more difficult for you to duplicate.
Humans, as with all thinkers, also enjoy frequent tactile sensation and derive great comfort and pleasure from all kinds of interpersonal contact except forceful striking, just like you! It is even possible to entwine with your human, and for many this is the most exciting reason to keep one in the home. But please note that humans generally prefer to touch only those people whom they see or with whom they communicate on a regular basis. It is strongly recommended that you hold off on touching your human until you have created a sense of familiarity by talking to it. Once the human accepts you as a partner it may even initiate contact of its own accord. Don't feel shy about asking though, just respect your human's comfort boundaries.
Another social aspect of human life is clothing: the use of artificial coverings, often in layers, that hide various body surfaces. The removal of clothing during social interactions is generally acknowledged as a signal to commence touching of the body parts thus exposed. Oppositely, increasing the number of layers is a signal that a human considers the present encounter satisfactory and you should refrain from touching it for a little while. A variety of clothing, while hardly mandatory, is a useful tool for enriching your interactions with your human.
Tabby thought about Xen seeing her on the potty while she finished up. Maybe it wasn't that bad, really. After all she was in the alien's house, not her own, and it couldn't actually view the important bits from down on the floor. Then she considered the big hot dog tentacles and wondered if it could see out of the end of them, like one of those submarine thingies raising up and peering all around while she peed and pooped. That might be funny to watch in a cartoon but it wasn't when it was happening to her for real. She wanted to make Mommy and Daddy proud with her good behavior for the alien but all of this was getting to be less and less of an exciting adventure.
With that in mind she was once again holding one hand in front of her girl garden and the other vaguely draped across her chest when she left the bathroom. She looked all around but she couldn't find Xen in the strange white room. "Are you still here?" she asked quietly.
"Yes, Tabby, I am over here." said a voice from the floor while a familiar octopus shape turned from white to mustard yellow. She stared, wide eyed. If it could change colors and hide . . . .
"Did you turn invisible and spy on me on the potty? That's bad. Bad octopus!"
"No!" Xen protested, backing away. "I only want to be your friend, Tabby. I am very interested in everything you do but I understand that humans only like to share interactions with their friends. I want to be your friend first, and then you can decide please if it is acceptable for me to watch you clear your wastes."
This alien was not acting like one of the meanies adults were always talking about back home. It even appeared to be a little afraid of her and it had left her alone (perhaps) as soon as she told it to go. But it also admitted that it wanted to do naughty stuff, or not-normal stuff at least. Maybe even like the grown-up boys Mommy had told her about the morning when she had to leave on the spaceship. How could she tell if Xen was a boy alien?
Before she had made up her mind, it brought up an earlier concern of its own: "Are you clean now? I see you are touching yourself again."
"It's not fair! Your stupid robots took all my clothes! What am I supposed to do?" Tabby complained.
Xen surprised her by apologizing again. "Oh, I am sorry, Tabby. I have been a very poor host. Of course you need clothes or you cannot show me if we are friends or not. There is a collection of garments in the bin on the other side of the bed. I read about clothes in my data file but I forgot to tell you." It crawled across the floor; Tabby tiptoed around the bed to follow it. She didn't understand why having clothes would make them friends, since the alien didn't seem to wear them, but anything that kept her from being nude in front of a potential boy couldn't be too bad. The alien led her to a white box sitting on the white floor, and the lid slid into a hidden recess at a touch of Xen's tentacle. "I should have told you right away, Tabby."
The clothes bin held an unmatched assortment in all kinds of colors, like her fun chest at home. That might be how the alien wanted to make friends: by playing dress-up with her. She hesitated, remembering its own admission that it wanted to watch her naked body, but gave that up as a lost cause for now: she needed her hands to dig through the outfits, shaking out of each one to see what it was. It didn't take long to uncover a pattern. Every piece was skimpy beyond anything she had ever seen, or gauzy to the point of transparency, or had holes missing in important places; often enough they managed to combine two or even all three things. Well, this was a dress-up chest for an alien that liked peeping at girls for sure. By now Tabby was feeling more and more convinced that she was indeed being held by a boy, and a dirty-minded boy at that.
But for whatever reason she just couldn't remain angry: Xen had been honest about wanting to see her undressed, and even so offered her some kind of clothes as soon as she said anything. If he (?) never wore any, maybe he didn't understand about looking and not looking just like he didn't speak human language quite right. The whole weird experience could be a silly alien mistake.
After testing about ten items she went back to the bikini swimsuit; it was opaque enough to actually hide behind without using her hands all the time, and besides it was plenty warm in the room to be a summer's day. Plus it was yellow, which seemed to be Xen's favorite color. She wondered if he would guess that she picked it because she was starting to like him and wanted him to like her back: she had begun to think of him as mostly nice in spite of his strangeness. Who would have thought that before her seventh birthday Tabby would be making friends with an alien octopus, and probably a really naughty boy besides?
Chapter 4: Studs
Humans come in two chief varieties. Although both forms have their interesting points, by a slight margin the preference among caretakers, especially first-timers, is for the type known as a stud. Studs possess an extensible reproductive tentacle and, usually, an external egg sac. A stud greatly enjoys touch stimulation of its sex tentacle and may voluntarily seek to entwine with you; or, if your relationship is not yet advanced, you might at least persuade it to fondle itself while you look on. After a period of stimulation that varies in length according to its prior level of arousal, the stud produces a gene encoding egg fluid from the end of its tentacle. This may or may not be the natural end of a given encounter; give your human the option of continuing or putting its clothes (if any) back on.
In addition to being the generally more active form, the advantage of a stud is that the reproductive discharge is agreed upon by humans and people alike as quite tasty and is its own reward above and beyond the pleasure of entwining. If your human is willing you can find many ways to play with and/or feed each other this emission. (So long as you stick to the one-human rule it is unlikely that you will consume enough foreign molecules to become ill. Stop absorbing egg fluid immediately if you begin to feel queasy.)
Xen felt encouraged when Tabby dressed in one of the smallest outfits in overall coverage area. The choice might be an indication that his human would accept a considerable amount of touching, although he remained mindful of the care file's warning that putting on any clothes was a signal to hold back for a while. Tabby had nearly touched him once already, so he hoped its natural sociability would reassert itself soon.
"Would you also like to digest food at this time?" he asked politely. He didn't want to forget anything else during his first interaction and he had turned 10% of his attention to reviewing his data sources. Or rather, he had tried: the percentage kept slipping downward as he watched the human's slender fingers tie the garment's strings. Another surprising ability that could not be appreciated from files alone.
"Um, you mean something to eat?" Tabby placed its hands near the middle of its body. "I guess a little, sure. I know: we can play tea party! If that's okay with you, Xen."
He considered. "'Tea party' is a social interaction combining conversation and eating small foods, yes?"
"Uh-huh."
"I would like to keep talking with you very much. But I do not believe I have the appropriate items. I can only offer you basic human nutrient mix plus water, and pineapple. But in any case I do not eat the same foods as you do, Tabby. I do not wish to become ill."
"Oh, you can just pretend. That's the best part of tea party! Please, pretty please?"
"If you believe it will work, then I will gladly have a tea party with you, Tabby."
"Yea! . . . Um, do we eat at that counter over there?"
"Yes. But only you will be eating, Tabby."
"Silly, I told you, it's pretend. Okay, so I think this is going to be a beach tea party 'cause I'm wearing a swimsuit and you're an octopus, all right? So I'll be Duchess Tabitha of Seashell Castle. What's your name?"
"My human name is Xen, spelled with an X."
"Stop being silly! I mean what's your pretend tea party name, like Sir Xen the Yellow Knight, the most famous octopus surfer in the world."
"I think that I do not understand tea parties."
"Just follow my lead, okay? Now we introduce each other like we're meeting for the first time and you kiss my hand. Only you just pretend with one of your arms 'cause you can't do it like a real knight." The human held out its right hand, palm down. "It is such an honor to meet you, Sir Xen. I have always wanted to have tea with such a famous surfer."
Tabby's whirlwind game of words left Xen dazed. He had kept up with the human's dialogue well enough to discuss simple things, but once it added a layer of abstract fiction that hid its real desires the entire percentage of his concentration could not keep up. "C'mon, give me your hand," Tabby insisted. At least he understood a handshake from his research. As he extended his tentacle, the impatient human reached out and grabbed him. He froze, but its grasp became a caress as its left hand wrapped his appendage around the opposite fingers and directed his tip to touch the base of the human's finger joints. "Mm-wa! Like that, see. Now you say something nice about me and we can have tea."
Through his exploding emotions Xen stammered, "Your skin is very smooth Tabby, and I enjoy watching your buttocks as you walk." The data file discussed shaking hands as if it were a matter of ordinary greeting yet the human had entwined their two tentacle ends without any suggestion or prelude on his part! He would forget every mean, shortsighted, cold-hearted thing of which he had ever accused Uncle and Aunt; anyone who would gift their child surrogate a human must be the most awesome offspring tenders in the galaxy!
He recovered his attention in time to hear Tabby say, ". . . skin feels tingly. Xen, can I ask you something? Are you a boy?"
Then, slowly, the human pulled out of his grasp. Its bright enthusiasm melted away and in an utter non sequitur it told him, "I miss Mommy and Daddy."
He had to admit to his inability to follow the conversation: "Tabby, please do not be upset. I am not playing tea party very well. It is difficult for me to pretend with you."
Tabby blurted, "Oh, Xen. I'm not mad. It's just, just . . . before I left on the spaceship to come here, Mommy and Daddy told me to be on my best behavior for the aliens and do as I was told even when it seems strange or silly. And . . . . . . and Mommy came to my room that morning and gave me a big hug and said how proud she was and how much she was going to miss me and that she had something to tell me before I left: something that was supposed to be for really big girls, like Charlotte's age, or more even, but because I was leaving she had to tell me then. She told me that sometimes when grown-ups really like each other they touch each other on the private parts but they don't like kids to do it because we could get hurt badly if we do it wrong, like playing in the kitchen. And sometimes a grown-up boy will put his weenie inside a grown-up girl's big-girl hole and she said she didn't know if the aliens have the same rules as us and that I shouldn't complain unless it really, really hurts because it's very important to do everything the aliens say.
"And now I think you're a boy and an alien and I'm not sure what to do and I keep remembering my Mommy and Daddy and even my stupid big sister Charlotte and I'll never see them never ever."
Some part of him was sure he should have heeded the care guide and approached his human more slowly. He had pressed his attentions too quickly and overburdened it during the period of transition. Yet the rest of his mind, still ecstatic after the handshake, refused to withdraw from the conversation. He nearly ached with desire to entwine again and again, to find out if successive occasions would be as stimulating as the first.
More than lust held him here, though. The beguiling Tabby with its muscular legs and delicate finger tentacles inspired an unexpected affection for the tall thinker who depended on his keeping. He had fallen in love at first sight. Likely Uncle and Aunt would flash and tease him for an adolescent crush, even more ridiculous for being interspecies, but his own mind was immovable. Tabby was his human now. His, and he would not abandon it, distraught, in an empty room.
Chapter 5: Bitches
The second human type is most widely called the bitch. It is the bitch form that most often buds young humans in a specialized pouch on its lower abdomen. They lack the reproductive tentacle of the studs; and while they can produce a form of sexual discharge, the substance lacks the rich protein taste of egg fluid. Further difficulties in keeping a bitch include their marked preference for long conversations over actual entwining. Indeed, a bitch may periodically refuse entwining altogether in spite of your best efforts.
Those who do keep a bitch may find that that entwining lasts longer than with a stud, which could be a bonus or detriment depending on your schedule. At those times when a bitch is receptive, it often seeks successive and repeated stimulation of multiple sites along its anatomy and is thus generally more difficult to please. But if you are up to the increased challenge of socializing your bitch, it can become very loyal, expressive, and tender.
Tabby's story wound down. She sensed tears pooling in the corners of her eyes but she wasn't crying, not really. She maybe even felt a little better now that everything was out in the open. She couldn't stifle her homesickness any longer and it was a great relief to stop trying. Xen wasn't saying anything, but he probably just needed time to catch up; she knew he didn't understand human language perfectly. She gulped in about six deep breaths.
"I am still very young and you are the first human I've ever met, Tabby," the alien replied at last. "I have made some mistakes, but I want you to know that I do understand being lonely. I cannot talk to my parents either, and I feel empty inside sometimes because of that."
"You mean you're not a grown-up? And you don't have a mom or dad to take care of you?"
"My parents melded and left me in the care of others shortly after I was newly budded. They are not dead but they will never come back and I cannot join them until I am much, much older. I will not leave as long as I am taking care of you, Tabby."
"Oh. That's sad," she replied. "You're kind of like me; I didn't realize. We're both kids alone by ourselves together I guess." She paused to consider her new insight. "Do you want to have a hug?"
"You desire to hug now? Will you remove your garments so we can touch?"
"A hug's what friends do to help each other not be sad. We wrap our arms around each other; you don't have to take clothes off to do that, silly."
"We are friends, Tabby? Really?" Even with his strange accent she could hear Xen's joy. He was getting better at human language.
"Maybe we can be? Please? You're the only alien I've ever met," she reasoned, "so if I'm your first human and you're my first alien, then that's a good reason to try at least, right?"
"I am very happy to be your friend, Tabby."
The mustard colored octopus raised two of its tentacles off the floor and Tabby bent down and scooped him up. His surface was smooth without being wet or slimy, so touching him was not nearly as alien-weird as she feared. He was surprisingly heavy, though. All eight of his arms constricted around her limbs and torso, even her neck. It was maybe the tightest hug she had ever had, and her skin tickled with a little goosebump raising tingle every place it met Xen's flesh, which was almost everywhere except a few tiny patches of bikini. She was keenly aware of one appendage wrapped right around her butt so that the end rested at the top of her leg next to her privates. Even just for a hug Xen wasn't missing his chance to be naughty, it seemed.
"Tabby? I am afraid of falling. Please be gentle with me."
She giggled. She couldn't help it even though she didn't want to make fun at him: the height at which she cradled his central disk only reached her belly. "Silly octopus: I won't drop you, I'm your friend," she insisted.
Xen's inadvertent humor helped to cheer her up. All this time she kept worrying about grown-up stuff but he was really another kid trying to be nice without quite knowing how. She was in a strange place, she hadn't wanted to come here, but she wasn't powerless. She could teach her new companion all about humans and being friends and playing pretend and . . .
. . . and there was one specific thing that she guessed a boy would really want to try.
"Xen?"
"Tabby?"
"Do you really want to touch me when I'm all over naked? Even though we're both just kids? What if," she began, and swallowed. Xen had begun to shift his arms all around and she felt the tingle racing across her skin. "What if I said it was okay now? Because alien rules are different from human rules so you don't count as being bad. As long as you're careful. I'm not a little kid but I'm not exactly grown up and your arms are pretty big and they might hurt if you go inside my big-girl hole."
A significant pause followed. "Your offer is very brave, Tabby. I could . . . if you agree, I could use my inner tentacle, perhaps? I am not considered mature enough yet. Uncle and Aunt might call it very naughty."
"Is that like a boy's weenie?" She hadn't glimpsed or felt any boy parts when she picked him up, but the alien had surprised her more than once. Her arms were getting tired; she set him back on the floor. As he uncoiled from her body the goosebumpy sensation lingered for a moment and was gone.
"My inner tentacles are the inside parts of my regular ones. I will be able to explain better if I show you." One arm lifted up. Tabby watched, curious, as the end began to split into four sections and peel back. With Xen's yellow skin, it looked almost exactly like a banana. But inside was a really bright green center, as if colored by her neon glow marker set back home. It was only half the usual sausage thickness of the outer layer, and he demonstrated that he could squeeze it thinner still. Then he closed everything up once more. "I do not like having my skin open too much," he explained, "I could be easily damaged and I am a little afraid that you could hurt me."
Just like Tabby feared getting hurt. It all seemed fair now.
"It's okay," she told him, "I promise to be as careful as I can."
"I promise the same."
"So, uh, I guess that's it. We're going to do grown-up touching."
"Yes, please. Let us entwine."
"Uh-huh."
. . . He waited. She waited. . . .
"So, um, yeah," she finally said. For the first time in her life she began to undress in the full knowledge that a boy was watching her, who wanted to play naughty stuff. The bikini top came off, quickly and artlessly; she had no reason to feel modesty about her chest, not even the bumps her older sister boasted. She only undid one of the bottom's side ties, though, causing it to hang precariously on her child's frame.
"You really like looking at my butt?" she asked. "It's not very big."
"I think your buttocks are marvelous, Tabby. I have never seen anybody who could walk on two legs before. I could watch it all the time."
"Silly alien," she teased. "Watch this!" And she slipped out of the bikini at the same time she turned around, shaking her rear end in the alien's direction.
"It is you who are silly, naughty human," Xen teased back. He slithered closer and started to rub her ankle, "tempting me with cute extremities."
"Wait!" she called. "Um, you're kind of heavy. I don't know if I can hold you like I was doing before. Can you climb up by yourself?"
"I have a better plan, Tabby. Humans often use the sleeping platform."
So they both climbed into bed, Tabby going first while Xen continued looking at her back side. Once atop the mattress, though, she quickly flipped front up. She had suddenly recalled that the yellow octopus was a boy and an alien, and she thought it might be best to review her girl parts lest any more mistakes be made today.
She spread her thighs and pointed to her smooth little cleft. "This is my girl garden. When I was real little Daddy called it a flower but Mommy laughed and said it must be a rose because when I grew up it was going to get pink and bushy. I guess I'm not grown up enough because I don't know what that means yet. Anyway, Mommy and me started calling it my rose garden, or garden for short. And inside in the middle at the top corner there's a little bump, I don't know if you can see it but if you go slow you can feel it: that's my rosebud. And under that is my pee hole. Mommy always tells me to keep that super clean. And then there's my big-girl hole: that's the one for boys to use. I'm not supposed to put anything inside, but you're a boy so . . . . Anyway, understand?"
"Yes, Tabby. Thank you for being a good friend." He was crawling between her legs now, and a hot dog tentacle reached right into her garden and landed almost on her pee hole. "Mm-wa," he exclaimed, imitating her fake kissing sound. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Tabby's garden."
She giggled. "Silly!"
"Yes."
And then he climbed all the way on top of her, sitting right between her tiny nipples. Two of his tentacles began to stroke along her two arms, trailing along the inside to linger on her elbows. She flexed them a little. "Lovely, Tabby," Xen commented, and she could feel the sound against her chest like a cat purring. Meanwhile his other arms were reaching along her tummy or up to her face. One reached right up past her head and she could feel his smooth muscles against her cheek. Impishly, she turned and licked it. Xen's colors flashed; he groaned wordlessly and she liked how the vibrations rumbled through her body.
Her first time, um, entwining, was like an all-over explosion of sensations. It tickled as Xen moved his tentacles, and he moved them absolutely everywhere from the top of her scalp to the soles of her feet. She was giggling and squealing a lot. It was not so bad that she wanted him to stop: his motion was slower, more deliberate than the human kind of tickling. She experimented a little, and learned that if she bent or wiggled whatever part of her body was under examination then Xen would increase his alien purring, but mostly she lay on her back and let him touch her as he pleased; he had too many arms for her to keep track of them all at once. The central disk, the part she thought of as his body, kept moving, too, as he reached this way and that. The electric, tingly feeling from before was gone, replaced by something more minty-cool, like a fresh breeze trailing in the wake of the alien's motion. Wherever the breeze blew, it was followed by a feeling that Tabby decided was like what it would be in the middle of fireworks bursting into color: it felt really, really amazing, and although the sense of glowing faded just like the breeze part, a tiny piece floated down from her skin into the center of her body each time so that there was a whole bright core of good feelings steadily growing inside her.
She had kind of thought that Xen would ask again, or at least warn her, before he stuck his day-glo tentacle inside her. He didn't, though. It wasn't the first place he touched, but much sooner than she ever expected a round tip bumped into her girl parts. She could actually feel it splitting open then, the outer skin rubbing against her garden gates while Xen's thin tendril snaked its way inside. The inner arm was a bit sticky, or at least she thought so at first. Snaked was a very good word for it, because that was just how it moved, a little bit pushing but even more just wriggling around to discover any gap leading deeper into her unexplored cleft. Tabby tried to sit up on her elbows to see what was happening, but Xen's banana peel skin was blocking the view; and when another arm found a particularly ticklish spot on her toes she gave up and collapsed back to the bed.
It was indescribably weird to feel herself touching every side of his tentacle at once, to be surrounding something instead of just having it next to her outsides. There was something like a wall that Xen's pretend weenie bumped into almost right away, but he found a passage through that pretty quickly. It hurt, just a little, because the tentacle wasn't going straight through and its side-to-side motion kept pulling her big-girl hole apart. She whined a little and the cool breeze feeling rushed right up inside her tunnel to be followed by the lit up feeling that took all the pain away. By then her alien friend was reaching really deep and hit another wall even further inside. He stopped at that one, but the rest of his body kept climbing all over hers. She bent her knees up in the air so he could get a good feel of her butt and he tickled and she felt cool and she wiggled her butt for Xen and all of a sudden he opened up a hole in the inside wall and that hurt didn't go away but now the good feeling had grown so much that it really didn't matter; Xen was really far inside her tickling all over the inside of her tummy and the outside at the same time and she laughed and squealed and Xen was purring and her skin was cool and her insides were full of amazing and her whole body was shaking and shaking . . . .
Until the mustard colored alien dancing across her ribcage settled down and then everything calmed like the sun coming out after summer rain. Mommy had said dirty touching could be scary and painful if you weren't grown up enough, but Tabby wasn't scared of Xen at all. He was going to be the best boy ever, she thought. And it had hurt some but not too much, maybe because his green inner tentacle could squish itself more than a real weenie, so even that part was fine.
All this she reported to her new friend, adding, "It's okay if you want to do it again later but I think I want a nap right now, okay?" She kissed him gently on the arm nearest her head at the same time the last bit of his other tentacle withdrew below.
"Of course, Tabby. Whatever will make you happy."
"Mm-hm." She curled up on her side, cradling Xen against her chest. He didn't feel weird at all anymore; all the unusual sensations were gone and just his smooth outer skin remained, rippling slightly as he stroked her shoulders. He was touching her butt again, which was just a little naughty, but altogether she felt very comfy. She closed her eyes.
"Tabby, please next time will you remove your hat so I can feel your head better, too?"
"What hat?"
"The multitude of yellow fibers decorating your head is a garment called a hat, yes? I would like to touch you underneath it if you permit."
"Silly octopus," she murmured.
Chapter 6: Command and Control
You are able to voluntarily exude several molecules that may be absorbed by a human and subsequently alter its psychosomatic state, notably to produce calm, increase suggestibility, heighten sexual arousal, or stimulate pleasure. There are also certain chemicals that produce acute pain or anxiety, but these are deprecated for non-emergency situations under the general regulations regarding thinker rights. All such substances must be delivered via direct contact and therefore are of little use until you have already established a good caretaking relationship with your human. You will probably not require a significantly large use of chemical force: always keep in mind that humans are naturally social and cooperative. In addition these molecules are more readily transported across the human's internal mucous membranes than its outer skin, thus they are effective in far smaller doses while touching your human penetratively.
Overuse will depress your human's original personality, stripping away the rewarding interactivity that attracts so many keepers. With that said however, sensible use of suggestion and reward, particularly in the earlier stages of physical trust, will enable you to accelerate the development of your relationship and to guide your human's behavior including its readiness to entwine in your favorite poses.
