9. Tammy #2
As I got closer, a new scent hit me. It was simultaneously foreign, yet also oddly familiar.
It reminded me of the beach, of crashing waves, of knocking back an ice-cold beer while my toes pushed into warm sand.
The intoxicating tapestry of smells made my steps falter even as my grip tightened on the pitchfork and my pulse quickened.
Beneath the alien strangeness was something I recognized on a genetic level—the unmistakable musk of Alphas.
Not human but pulsing against my Omega in the most delicious way.
My instincts screamed conflicting messages—submit, run, fight, protect. I steeled myself, needful warmth pooling in my belly, and chose the last. I placed myself between the creatures and Artie, pitchfork raised and feet planted firmly in the Kansas soil that was, for better or worse, my home.
"You want him?" I snarled. "You go through me first."
The three aliens, their movements so perfectly synchronized it seemed choreographed, flowed across the ground toward me.
I’d been drowning in fear the first time I’d faced the trio.
Now, the details of them were obvious under the unforgiving daylight.
They were even more impossible than I remembered.
More wrong. More warped. Their bodies—bulbous, glistening, and writhing with tentacles—were an offense to everything I’d previously called real.
Each abomination stood at least seven feet tall, though their heights fluctuated as they moved.
Physical dimensions were merely suggestions rather than laws for these creatures.
One pulled ahead of its companions. It pulsed with blues and greens that shifted across its skin like northern lights compressed into a living form.
Its tentacles were longer than the others', moving with a fluid grace that reminded me of underwater documentaries I'd seen of octopi navigating coral reefs.
What might have been a face was smooth and featureless, save for two silvery orbs that reflected the morning sun like polished chrome.
The second creature was slightly smaller, its skin rippling with patches of deep purple and angry red that flowed and merged into each other.
Unlike the blue-green mass, this one's movements were precise, almost mechanical in their efficiency.
Its tentacles remained closer to its main body, and I noticed that one appeared shorter than the others, as if it were injured or deformed.
The third, standing slightly behind the others, was the most dynamic in appearance.
Its coloration swirled in constant motion—yellows bleeding into oranges, then earthy browns, then back again.
It seemed to vibrate with a nervous energy, its tentacles twitching and curling in patterns that made my eyes hurt to follow.
Were the creatures this mesmerizing last night? Were they so visually overwhelming that it nearly hurt to watch them move?
All three glistened with a slick, gelatinous coating that caught the sunlight and refracted it in prismatic bursts. When they floated across the ground, they left moist trails behind, like enormous slugs.
Enormous, fast slugs with a deeper purpose than just existing.
Behind me, Artie let out another frightened whinny, followed by the sound of hooves scrambling across packed dirt as he retreated, using my presence as an escape shield.
I turned for a heartbeat—and it was terrifying to take my focus from the aliens for even those few seconds— finding my old boy shoved into the far-right corner of the fenced paddock.
The elderly Appaloosa's dappled gray, Appaloosa-spotted coat trembled visibly even from a distance, his tail tucked tight against his body, signaling fear.
At least he had the sense to run. My own instincts screamed at me to do the same, but my feet remained planted, the aged pitchfork still raised between me and the aliens like the world's most inadequate shield.
"Back off, you weird octo-monsters!" I shouted, trying to sound fierce but I was unable to hide the fear that made my voice crack. "This is private property! My property!"
The absurdity of treating extraterrestrial visitors like trespassers—as if they’d freaking care that my name was on the deed to this chunk of land—wasn't lost on me, but this cosmically strange situation wasn’t exactly breeding rational thought.
My hands shook so badly that my makeshift weapon trembled, its dull tines bobbing up and down.
The aliens made a series of sounds in response—wet, squelching noises punctuated by clicks and what sounded disturbingly like bubbles popping underwater.
They were communicating again, just like last night, though their bodies weren’t currently cycling through a million colors.
I wondered in passing if how they looked now was their natural state.
Cool waters of the first. Hot like summer, almost threatening colors of the second. Earthy, Autumnal palette of the third.
The gyrating, sticky monster with crimson rippling through its amethyst skin base, lifted one suckered arm and pointed its tip at me.
I realized with a fresh wave of terror that these weren't mindless creatures—hell, I already knew that, but being pointed at by a scary, giant monster makes you hyperaware of the threat you’re facing.
“Why the hell are you pointing at me!” I meant to shout, but the syllables came out in a garbled mess.
My mind began to imagine what they might have done to Artie had I not intervened. Kill him? Eat him? Dissect him for some sick, cosmic research?
The ocean skinned one took a step forward, its massive body flowing over the ground rather than walking on it.
With each movement, it seemed to grow larger, expanding in both height and width until it loomed over me like a living tidal wave.
It gave me flashbacks to the night before, with them looming over me.
Two of its tentacles extended outward, reaching toward me with an almost gentle curiosity that was somehow more terrifying than aggression would have been.
Its scent hit me.
Just as hard as it had last night.
Waking up parts of my Omega nature that had been dormant for my entire life. Never awoken by a human Alpha. What the hell’s wrong with me? My brain screamed. It’s a crazy ass alien with tentacles! Don’t be a psycho!
I stumbled backward from its touch. My boots caught on a tuft of grass, and I nearly fell, windmilling my arms to regain balance while somehow keeping hold of the pitchfork. The movement sent a fresh spike of pain through my cut palm, warm blood trickling down my wrist.
The creatures froze, all three of them turning those mirror-like eyes toward my bleeding hand.
The scent in the air shifted dramatically.
The strong odor intensified to something that made my sinuses burn.
This wasn’t the delicious cologne that made me want to toss common sense out the window and jump their boneless body like I was fully in heat.
This was like rotting seaweed left baking in the sun, mixed with cheap beer, and a base note that reminded me of the hospital where I'd spent a month after breaking my leg during a cheer competition in high school.
Then they were advancing on me fast, spurred from motionless statues into blurred bullets, each trying to get closest to me. The noxious, acrid cologne wafting through the air around them settled back down, returning to warm beaches, sunshine, and ice-cold drinks in glass bottles.
Underlying it all was that unmistakable musk of Alpha—times three, amplified beyond anything I'd ever encountered, not just stronger but fundamentally different from the human variety I was used to.
My body responded before my mind could process what was happening.
Heat flooded my cheeks and neck. My breathing quickened.
Deep in my core, a treacherous warmth began to build—my Omega biology recognizing something my conscious mind wanted to reject completely.
But I couldn’t ignore my nature. Whatever these things were, part of me sensed their dominance, their power, and it wanted me to submit.
"No," I whispered, more to myself than to them. I bit down hard on my lower lip, using pain to focus my thoughts. "Stay back!"
I pushed the pitchfork toward them, jutting it out hard, the rounded tines rocketing toward the purple-red alien’s stomach.
It made a sound like water being sucked down a drain, then stepped to the side in a movement too fluid to be human.
The creature caught in an Autumn haze mirrored the other’s action, the two of them circling to flank me on either side, as the deep sea of blue and green undulated straight toward me.
A classic predator strategy. I spun, trying to keep all three in my field of vision, but it was impossible.
For every degree I turned, they adjusted their positions with unnerving precision.
My Omega perfume changed again, terror and adrenaline turning it into spoiled lemons laced with pepper.
Sweat beaded along my hairline and between my shoulder blades, despite the icy fear flooding my core.
My heart thundered so loudly I was sure they could hear it.
God, they could probably smell my every emotion the way I could smell their alienness.
Did they know I’d been momentarily aroused like a mad woman? If so, I’d be mortified.
Did they know I was truly terrified of them right now? If they did, they didn’t seem to care one damn bit.