16. Tammy #3
Before I could respond, something extraordinary happened.
Their human arms shifted. The skin rippled like disturbed water, and where two arms had been on each man, multiple tentacles now emerged, still wearing the sleeves of their shirts, which strained to accommodate the change.
Look, I’d seen their real bodies. I shouldn’t be surprised by the writhing appendages now on display.
Yet, it was still freaky as hell to see a seemingly human man suddenly become part octopus… squid… Eldritch terror.
I stumbled backward, pitchfork clattering to the ground. “What are you—"
But the question died in my throat as I watched them each take one of the three stalls and begin to work.
Those tentacles—strong, dexterous, and far more numerous than human limbs—made quick work of the soiled bedding.
Kalith’s appendages gripped and scooped with precision.
Cyro’s tentacles gathered old hay into a neat pile outside the stall, then snagged fresh hay from the bales I’d stacked in an unused stall.
And Vantor, with his massive form, cleared an entire stall in what must have been record time with his bare hands… um… tentacles.
My first instinct was to tell them to hide those alien appendages, to maintain their human appearance completely. But practicality won out over panic. They were doing in minutes what would take me an hour plus.
I leaned against the stable wall, watching in fascination as twelve tentacles worked in perfect harmony. “I wasn’t considering hiring ranch hands,” I said finally, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips, “but maybe that’s because I needed ranch tentacles.”
Kalith’s human face brightened at my joke, his too-perfect teeth gleaming in the stable’s dim light. “That was humorous,” he commented, unnecessarily. I’d have to tell them that body language sometimes made spoken language repetitive.
Their tentacles pushed together, twisting and merging into arms. The scent of their sweat—because apparently squid aliens do sweat—was salty and sweet and a little charred. Caramel, saltwater, and a hint of smoke.
Despite myself, my gaze lingered on the way their forearms glistened where they’d rolled up their sleeves.
The tentacles should have repulsed me—they were decidedly not human, after all—but there was something almost hypnotic about their fluid efficiency.
And now that they bore human arms again, the vision of tentacles quickly became secondary to rippling muscles.
I found myself repeating a mental mantra: They’re octopus E.T.s.
Not sexy. Can’t keep them. Must send home.
The mantra weakened with each passing second.
Where could a girl get an intergalactic phone? They could call their home planet for a ride and leave faster. Otherwise…
They wouldn’t even need a trail of peanut butter candy to coax me into a bedroom.
Vantor approached me first, shovel in hand, his tentacles now retracted back into the semblance of human arms. Sweat beaded on his brow, making his impossibly perfect skin glisten heavily. “What else can we assist with?” he asked, voice deep and resonant.
I exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach. “Everything,” I breathed out despite myself. Then, collecting my wits, I gestured toward the half-demolished barn and the gleaming spacecraft. “But maybe you should hide your ship first? Besides, I’m used to doing things alone.”
“While you are forced to host us, you do not have to do things alone,” Vantor said. His tone was neutral, his offer clearly based solely on repaying my favor of not turning them into the government to be dissected.
“There are a few repairs I can assist with, aside from fixing the building we damaged,” Kalith added.
“That’s the understatement of the century,” I chuckled.
“I would like to study the equines while we are stranded,” Cyro noted, though I think that was less to help me and more to satisfy his curiosity.
“I’m really in no position to reject help,” I admitted, then nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow, we can start the day out properly. I’ll show you the ropes.”
“What material are these ropes made of?” Kalith asked, a glint in his eye. “Are they organic or inorganic?”
“Not real ropes,” I laughed again, I couldn’t help myself, “It’s just a saying.”
“It is nonsensical,” Cyro observed.
“Yes, just like three aliens crash-landing on a ranch in Kansas,” I volleyed back. “Speaking of, how about we go pile a bunch of tree limbs onto the UFO so the big bad men in black don’t find out you’re here?”
Walking toward the destroyed supply building before they could answer, my brain began imagining what life on the ranch would be like with these three at my side.
Which was ridiculous.
Yet…
I pictured waking up before sunrise, brewing coffee for four, and standing on the porch with them as the sun crested over the horizon. Just me and a trio of Cthulhu aliens in disguise. A pang shot through my heart, thinking about how nice it would feel to not be so damn lonely all the time.