Mandy and the Tentacle Monster: Chapter 5

As it turns out, I’m definitely a pet. I have made many efforts to communicate with the tentacle monster. They are all met with indulgent smiles and head pats. The smiles are unnerving, with all his sharp teeth. And I was bathed in a weird shower which shot foam onto me and then lasered the foam off of me. It left me startled, but clean from top to bottom. Then the tentacle monster wielded a very stiff brush to smooth out my hair. That hurt like a mofo! Clearly, this guy has zero hair brushing experience. He was yanking my hair from my skull! I tried to wiggle away from him and off the stool he had me perched on. But he made a loud click-hiss sound and waved a deadly sharp claw in front of my face.

I made a show of sitting very still with my hands in my lap and then reached for the brush. He let me take it but studied me as I brushed my hair out, working my way up from the ends in short, gentle strokes. I used exaggerated gestures showing him how it could be done without any yanking. He snatched the brush back and ran it through my hair in a smooth motion, making a pleasured trilling sound. It was a sound that reminded me of cooing doves, and it was very much at odds with his predatory features.

Anyway, I had been washed and groomed in the same manner my foster mom, Sharon, used to fuss over her Pomeranian. He even filed my nails. Instead of filing them short though, he filed them into tiny little points. I pout over my fire engine red gel tips. Ugh. It’s unlikely that I’ll ever see another nail salon in my life! And this monstrous goob has filed my perfect manicure into miniature talons.

Through all this, every time he picked me up or put me down, his touch was always gentle and firm. Exactly as I would handle a puppy.

When I was abducted, a lot of scenarios went through my head. Everything from being dinner to being some kind of sex slave. Being a coddled pet was not something I had thought of. It’s not ideal. But I am not being abused. I get lots of food from a machine in their dining room that seems to make food appear out of thin air. It’s weird, alien food. Different flavored noodles, for the most part, and condiments to top them with. So I’m safe, clean, warm, and fed. Better than that, when I first woke up in their little sickbay, I was completely healed. Not only from my recent abduction related injuries, but also every injury I have ever suffered from. All my filling and even one crown fell out and, in their place, healthy shiny white teeth. My persistent back pain has disappeared, and my appendix scar is gone. It may have grown my appendix back.

In many ways, my life as a pet is better than my pre-abduction life. No bills, free health care, no social anxiety. My alien owner seems to find anything I do adorable. He’s always making cooing noises at me and patting my head. A few times I’ve been locked out of certain cabinets or rooms if I messed with something I wasn’t supposed to. But my actions are never held against me. I’m never scolded or punished. And I have my own room, which I suspect is a closet. It’s piled with pillows and blankets that I’ve bunched into a very comfortable pallet.

There is zero stress in this new life. There is a lot of boredom though. To combat that, I’ve tried to communicate with my tentacle monster, but he isn’t getting it at all. And after a while, I gave up on that. Our speech is so different. It’s doubtful he recognizes what I’m saying as anything more than animal noises. I’m like that little yappy Pomeranian.

I’ve made myself a wardrobe of wrap skirts and shirts, and sarong type dresses. I spend a lot of time working on my outfits, trying to make them fit comfortably and modestly. I know these aliens think I’m an animal and don’t care if I run around naked. Hell, they never wear clothes. But I like all my bits covered.

I’ve explored every accessible part of this ship and my favorite is their storage area. There are these big plastic-like crates and there are all kinds of things in them. I found a sewing kit, a set of markers, all sorts of fabric, and a whole mess of things I can’t even identify. Like, one crate is full of these meter-long poles. They have a tennis sized bouncy ball attached to one end and what looks like a horse tail attached to the other. I have no idea what they could be for. There’s tons of stuff like that – stuff that is super weird and makes no sense to me. My alien watched me as I rummaged through everything, so I guess it’s ok for me to help myself.

I recently noticed that my tentacle alien is augmented. I was inside a crate of fabric, grabbing handfuls and tossing them out so I can rummage through them. The alien leaned in to spy on me and in the dimness of the crate, I noticed there was something glowing inside his skull. What are his bones made of that I can see through them? I pointed at the side of his head that was glowing and he reached up and touched it. Then he closed his eyes and I swear, the light glowed a little brighter and I was able to get a good look at it. It looked like a bendy circuit board. So, I’ve named him Seven. Like Seven of Nine? He’s not as augmented as a Borg drone, but it feels right.

‘I’m naming you Seven,’ I smiled at him and he smiled right back with his sharp-toothed grin. I’m a Star Trek Voyager fan, so I couldn’t help myself. ‘Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One is your full name, so you know. But I’ll call you Seven.’

He pats my head and trills a coo.

‘And my name is Amanda Ramirez-Gonzalez. You can call me Mandy.’ I’m entertaining myself when I talk to him. I do it a lot. It’s terrible how bored and lonely I am.

He picks me up and I don’t fight him. I’ve learned that he’s not going to hurt me, and he never backs down when I oppose him. He’ll wait an indulgent look on his face until I give up and then scoop me up anyway. I would rather walk myself, but it’s no big deal. He sits me down in the dining room and then sits next to me with a big bowl of noodles.

Ugh. I hate when he does this. Sometimes he’ll get me my own bowl and I’ll eat as neatly as I can with my fingers. These aliens don’t seem to have a concept of silverware. My fingers and face get a little messy without the claws to wind the noodles up into a tight tangle as the guys do. I don’t care about getting messy, I much prefer it to what he does most of the time.

He winds some noodles up into a tight little ball and presents it to me, holding it up to my mouth with one claw. I clamp my mouth shut and shake my head. I’m not that hungry anyway and I don’t want to eat food out of Seven’s hand and off his plate. Out of all his patronizing behaviors, this is the one that drives home that I am a pet. Exactly the same as a little pup being fed scraps from the table. It’s not even good manners for a pet owner to do that anyway!

He clicks and growls at me.

‘Mm-mmm!’ I shake my head again and point toward the cabinet where he gets the bowls from. He doesn’t even look. He never even tries to understand me! Why not get me my own bowl to eat out of? What a jerk!

Another tentacle guy comes through the doorway. He’s the biggest one and I’ve named him Cthulu. He hiccup-clicks a greeting.

‘Hiya Lu!’ I call cheerfully and wave at him. ‘How’s it hangin’?’

He glowers at me. He always seems so very pissed whenever he sees me. I get the feeling he’s not actually pissed at me, but at Seven. I wish I knew why.

Seven takes the opportunity to pop the noodle ball into my mouth. I glare at him but chew and swallow. The next ball he presents me with, I pluck off his claw with my fingers. I pop it to my mouth, but it comes a bit unraveled making the usual mess. I grin as I poke all the stray noodles into my mouth, feeling like I’ve won for once. Both of the guys do this hiccup-huff noise that is surely laughter. And now I feel a bit silly. Grumbling, I eat the rest of my dinner off his claw.