Potential trigger warnings; Steve is a child, Eddie is an adult alien; Eddie essentially claims Steve as his mate (absolutely nothing sexual happens) but Steve doesn't understand this and obviously can't consent. What happens is completely culturally acceptable to Eddie and totally normal. Discussion of, basically, biologically changing Steve on Eddie's say so for Eddie's convenience; again, completely normal and culturally acceptable to Eddie. Blink and you'll miss it mention of M/Preg. I don't know how else to TW this; proceed with caution.
“Here, Commodore.”
Ek’dli-ke examines the images carefully.
“You have been awarded the choice of any single individual,” the Operator reminds them needlessly. They know. Their injured appendages still throb in their bindings. They are still unmoored; unbalanced. They were repeatedly told they should not be moving about so soon.
They don't care.
“What are they again?” they ask, almost absently. They are vaguely aware that this is a great honor; access to brand new, malleable genetic material. It doesn’t feel like it though. For everything they lost in battle, the damage done to their still healing body, nothing would feel like adequate recompense for what occurred. This feels, if anything, like a bribe.
No one had expected them to survive; that's why they had been left. Clearly they greatly underestimated Ek’dli-ke. And now their silence is being purchased with a mating. What would the galactic host's population think if they found one of their own engineered warriors had been abandoned so blithely, and not only abandoned, but left for dead after a battle of the Host's own creation.
This feels like an insult, but Ek’dli-ke will take it anyway. Their career has been ended; their title is now nothing but a platitude. Their injuries are excessive; they will never battle again. They will never mate one of their own either; not with missing limbs and hideous injuries. They would never be accepted as they are; the strange little aliens on the viewer are now their only route to reproduction.
A fact their erstwhile superiors are no doubt fully aware of.
“Humans,” the operator speaks, voice everywhere and no where. The vibrations are irritating, almost painful, on their still healing membranes. “Their people put high value on certain metals; individuals were happy to give up their young.”
“In exchange for-” they force themselves to bite it off. Keep the disgust inside. What kind of species gives away their young for inanimate objects? Barbaric. They busy themselves with absorbing the data, forcing themselves to concentrate on the purpose of their visit, “their life spans are alarmingly short.”
“Easily rectified. They are malleable on a molecular level, the potential for change is...great.”
“Offspring?”
“Largely they are culturally divided into male and female, although it is difficult to tell the difference at this age while they are clothed; should you choose a male he can be adjusted to carry for you. Now is the ideal age to begin the process. However, you should be aware that if you do choose a male, they may need more intervention while they are gravid. It wouldn’t be a problem.”
Ek’dli-ke clicks in thought. “How long until mating for offspring is appropriate?”
“Physically at least two galactic cycles, however the culture of where this particular group was collected has a legal framework in place to protect those they consider too young to give fully informed consent. Should you choose to respect that it will be closer to four cycles.”
Ek’dli-ke starts to shrug, but the pain reminds them of their injuries and they abort the motion. It makes no difference to them, “I will respect it.”
Ek’dli-ke watches the Human young move about on the viewer a little longer; they appear to be playing, chasing one another. “I would need to move amongst them.”
“Of course,” the Operator moves without moving, and Ek’dli-ke hides their discomfort. They have always found the Operators to be highly unsettling.
They are...loud. And very small. They come in an array of colors, and most have strange tufts of fur growing out the top. Their eyes are too small, their appendages too few. Ek’dli-ke has no idea what use they will have with one of these as a mate.
Never the less, the Operators coding never lies; one of these will be appropriate.
They seem to shy away from them, understandable, Ek’dli-ke cannot imagine how they would appear to them. Apparently their species had barely made it to their nearest orbiting moon; they had not known other life even existed.
They must have gotten over their surprise very quickly.
One of them approaches, only to be pulled away by a different one. A little larger. Pale, with brownish fur on top. “Don’t! Monster!” Ek’dli-ke’s translator provides. The small human thinks he is protecting the others. The little Human is accurate with their assessment; Ek’dli-ke has been called far worse than a mere monster in battle.
Ek’dli-ke makes themselves smaller. Curls up and sits, pulling their appendages in close; they are still twice the height of the largest human young, “I will not harm you,” he tells the brave one. The protector. He reaches into his dress robes, “here.” They are watched carefully by the huddled group of young.
The brave one approaches cautiously. So small and delicate. Ek’dli-ke opens the package, it is but fructose and water made into brightly colored shapes, but the Operator had assured them that the Humans react favorably to food; particularly sweet foods. The brave one takes the package; returns to the others.
Ek’dli-ke watches as the small human shares them with the others before taking any for themselves. It summons an unfamiliar...fondness within Ek’dli-ke. They find themselves...charmed, by the selflessness. This Human will do well when raising young.
If they must choose one; then perhaps that one.
The Human returns, “is there more?”
Ek’dli-ke produces the second packet without question. This time they watch the small human consume a few themselves before sharing the remainder. Strange; they shove them into the same hole the noises come out of.
The brave one comes back, “what are you called?”
“Steve,” the small Human moves like he doesn’t yet fully have control over their own body. Fidgeting. Pulling at the generic white coverings they are wearing. The same as all the Humans are wearing.
“I am Ek’dli-ke.”
Steve’s face does something quite spectacular, scrunching up, before they uncertainly try, “Eddie?”
“Yes. Yes, Eddie will do. Come here.”
Steve’s skin is...surprisingly soft. Eddie pulls Steve closer, wrapping all parts of themselves gently around Steve so as not to startle them; Steve emits a noise, wriggling. It’s high pitched, irregular. Laughter, their translator implant provides; joy. Steve’s skin turns pinker, which is fascinating, and they gasp for breath, “stoppittickles!”
Ek’dli-ke goes still and Steve settles into the curve of their hold. Ek’dli-ke leans forward; tastes the skin he can reach. Steve starts wriggling again, laughing, “gross! Stoppit!”
Yes, Ek’dli-ke thinks approvingly as the knowing of Steve’s taste washes through them. It sinks deep; is accepted. Burns itself into every molecule.
Steve has a small wriggling appendage in his food and speech hole; the equivalent of a mouth, Ek’dli-ke’s translator provides again. Steve in turn touches the part of Ek’dli-ke they can reach leaving a trail of moisture behind. Ek’dli-ke shivers uncontrollably at the flavor Steve has gifted him. Steve goes limp, eyes going very very large, “oh,” he says.
Ek’dli-ke vibrates in agreement. Steve giggles again. Ek’dli-ke decides they like it.
The Operators were correct, and Steve has already returned their advances; their reaction to Ek’dli-ke’s taste is more than favorable. Steve is numbed, no doubt, if their receptors are working correctly.
If Humans even have them. Hopefully they do, Ek’dli-ke does not wish to cause Steve pain.
Ek’dli-ke brings forth his inner most limb; Steve watches wide eyed as it slithers along their skin. The two appendages Steve seems to use for touch separate into ten smaller, wriggling appendages at the end; Ek’dli-ke by passes those, just in case the next part causes harm.
He applies pressure further up; the fleshy stiff part, either side of where it bends. Steve makes a noise, but does not react unfavorably; they must have working receptors and the numbness from the first taste of their mate must be working. Ek’dli-ke watches their mark bloom on Steve’s pale skin. Steve’s body has accepted them without question; a more perfect match for mating Ek’dli-ke could not have asked for.
“What’s that?” Steve asks, rubbing at where the glittering fractals and facets now decorate a large swathe of their appendage, “pretty.”
Yes, Ek’dli-ke will take this one, a more beautiful and solid mating mark has never existed, they are certain, “it means you are mine.”
