The first thing Mike noticed was that the room was actively adjusting to him. The bed-like surface continued to shift minutely, finding the perfect support for every part of his body. The ambient light dimmed slightly, matching what it probably thought was a comfortable human level, and the temperature rose to a cozy warmth that made his still-damp clothes feel uncomfortably obvious.
He tried sitting up, only to find that the surface moved with him, supporting his back like the world's most attentive armchair. The wall nearest to him rippled, and a shelf-like protrusion formed, holding what looked like a container of... something.
A soft humming filled the room, not quite a lullaby but clearly meant to be soothing. The sound seemed to come from the walls themselves, reminding him that everything around him was probably alive in some way. Even the air felt deliberately conditioned, carrying a faint scent like ocean breeze mixed with something alien and sweet.
When he drew his knees up to his chest in a defensive posture, the room dimmed the lights further and the humming changed pitch, as if trying to comfort him. The bed surface generated what felt suspiciously like a blanket, its texture unnervingly similar to the creature's skin.
Mike had never felt more cared for, or more trapped.
A sudden series of clicks from beyond the sealed door made him freeze. Was his tentacled caretaker coming back? Or worse – was he about to meet more of them?
The door melted open – definitely not in the same place it had been before, but a foot to the right. Mike was sure of it. Behind it stretched a perfect corridor that somehow looked wrong, like his brain couldn't quite process its dimensions. He could have sworn the room had rotated, but the bed hadn't moved at all.
Alien glided in, carrying what looked like a bowl of iridescent fruits in one of its smaller tentacles. The bioluminescent patterns across its body were gentle now, almost subdued, like someone trying not to startle a nervous animal. The eye he could see had that same maddeningly patient expression.
Mike pressed himself against the far edge of the bed-surface, which helpfully adjusted to support his new position. Alien seemed to notice his tension and moved with exaggerated slowness, carefully setting the bowl down on a section of floor that obligingly rose up to form a perfect little table.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Then, it settled its triangular body onto the floor. The three main tentacles folded, creating a stable tripod base while the smaller manipulator tentacles tucked themselves neatly away. It was such a human-like gesture – sitting down to appear less threatening – that it somehow became even more alien.
The creature maintained a careful distance, its single visible eye fixed on him with what looked like gentle interest. The beak clicked once, softly, almost like saying "take your time." The fruits in the bowl gave off a faint glow of their own, their colors shifting like oil on water.
They sat there in silence, human and alien, while somewhere in the walls, the room continued its gentle humming.
"This isn't happening," Mike muttered to himself, knees drawn up to his chest. "Just a weird dream. Probably fell asleep on the beach. Any minute now..."
Alien's eye blinked slowly, head tilting slightly at the sound of his voice. The beak clicked once, very softly, but the creature remained perfectly still otherwise.
"Giant tripod octopus thing. With a beak. Perfect sense. Totally normal Monday." He let out a shaky laugh. "Maybe I ate some bad shellfish. Food poisoning. Hallucinations. That's it."
The bioluminescent patterns across Alien's body shifted to gentle waves, matching the rhythm of his speech. One smaller tentacle twitched slightly, as if wanting to reach out, but remained carefully tucked away.
"And now I'm in a living room. A literally living room. With glowing fruits. Being watched by ET's weird cousin." His voice took on a slightly hysterical edge. "Who likes to give head pats. Because that's what alien tentacle monsters do, right? They pat you on the head and tuck you in and... and..."
The eye watching him crinkled at the edges, and the beak made that now-familiar chuckling click. The sound made Mike jump, which made the bed-surface adjust again, which triggered another round of nervous babbling.
"Oh god, even the furniture is trying to help. Everything's so helpful. So very, very helpful. The scary alien, the scary room, the scary fruit – all just want to help Mike. Lucky Mike!"