Mid-chew, Mike's brain finally caught up with his actions. His eyes went wide with horror as he realized what he'd done. He'd just popped an alien, glowing fruit into his mouth without a second thought – no testing, no analysis, not even a sniff. It could have been poisonous, radioactive, or worse.
But it was... delicious? Like a mango crossed with cinnamon, but with an unexpected kick of heat that spread warmly through his chest. The fruit's bioluminescence created tiny dancing patterns as he chewed, like eating a firework.
Alien's eye practically sparkled with delight at his reaction, their bioluminescence pulsing in happy waves. The creature's smugness had reached new heights – they'd not only been right about the storm but had also successfully gotten their human to eat his alien veggies.
As the spicy warmth spread through him, Mike realized with growing dread that he'd completely forgotten to be properly terrified. He'd just accepted food from the tentacled alien that had abducted him, like a child taking candy from a stranger. A very smug, three-eyed, beak-clicking stranger who was now offering him another piece with an unmistakable "See? Isn't it good?" gesture.
The warmth from the fruit spread through his chest like a comfortable blanket, which was absolutely not okay. Mike stared at his slightly glowing hands in horror, wondering what alien chemical compounds were now coursing through his system. And why did they have to taste so good?
It bobbed happily in their tripod position, clearly pleased with this development. Another fruit was already being offered by one of their smaller tentacles, while another tentacle made encouraging little circular motions.
"I shouldn't..." Mike started, but his treacherous hand was already reaching for the second piece. The fruit's glow pulsed gently in response to his touch, like it was saying hello. He could see his first bite still traveling through his system, creating tiny light shows under his skin.
What was worse – the fact that he was eating unknown alien substances, or the fact that he was starting to crave more? The spicy-sweet aftertaste lingered pleasantly, and he could feel the first fruit settling warmly in his stomach like a mini sun.
It's bioluminescence took on a gentle, encouraging pattern, and they nudged the bowl slightly closer. Their eye had that particular look that grandmothers get when watching someone enjoy their cooking. One tentacle patted the space beside them invitingly, like they were offering to share a proper meal together.
Mike looked at the glowing fruit in his hand, then at his faintly luminescent stomach, then at the proud alien waiting expectantly. He was literally glowing with alien food, and all he could think was: "I wonder if the purple ones are spicier?"
---
A new, urgent problem made itself known. The warm, glowing fruits had apparently worked their way through Mike's system with alarming efficiency. He shifted uncomfortably on the living bed, which helpfully adjusted to his movement – really not helping the situation.
How exactly does one communicate "bathroom" to a tripod alien? Mike crossed his legs tightly, looking around the seamless room in growing panic. There had to be some kind of facility, right? Even aliens must have... plumbing?
Alien's eye focused on his obvious discomfort, head tilting in curious concern. Their bioluminescence shifted to a questioning pattern as they observed his increasingly desperate squirming. One tentacle reached out in what might have been concern, probably thinking he was having some kind of reaction to the fruit.
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"No, no, I need..." Mike made a vague gesture, face reddening. "You know... facilities?" His voice cracked on the last word.
Alien continued to stare, uncomprehending. The beak clicked in what sounded like confusion as they watched their human guest perform an increasingly urgent seated dance. One tentacle helpfully offered more fruit, clearly misinterpreting the source of his distress.
Mike was about to learn whether it was possible to die of embarrassment before bladder explosion.
Mike's desperate charades became more frantic. He pointed at his stomach, then vaguely around the room, making what he hoped were universal "I need to go" gestures. His glowing stomach wasn't helping matters – he could literally see the urgency traveling through his system.
It's eye narrowed in concentration, watching his every movement. The beak clicked thoughtfully as they processed this new human behavior. Their tentacles moved in curious patterns, trying to decode his meaning. One reached out to check his forehead again, obviously wondering if this was some bizarre reaction to the fruit.
Finally, in complete desperation, Mike resorted to the universal potty dance, complete with exaggerated crossing and uncrossing of legs.
The moment of alien comprehension was almost visible – it's eye widened suddenly, and their bioluminescence flashed in what looked like an "Oh!" pattern. The beak made a series of rapid clicks that sounded suspiciously like embarrassed apologies.
A section of wall promptly morphed into a doorway – definitely not where any door had been before – revealing what appeared to be some sort of alien bathroom facility. The fixtures were bizarre and somehow organic-looking, but their general purpose was... mostly clear.
Alien gestured toward it with three tentacles at once, their bioluminescence now pulsing in patterns that practically screamed "Why didn't you say so sooner?" One smaller tentacle gave him a gentle nudge forward, while another patted his back in what felt like sympathy.
Mike had never been so relieved and mortified at the same time.
The "bathroom" was a study in alien geometry. What Mike assumed was the toilet looked more like an abstract sculpture, with curves and hollows that provided no clear indication of which end was which. The walls pulsed gently with bioluminescence, helpfully lighting up the space, but that only made the bizarre fixtures more confusing.
In his desperate state, Mike made a snap decision and simply aimed at what looked like the most bowl-shaped depression. This turned out to be exactly the wrong choice. The fixture immediately responded by morphing its shape slightly and producing a soft chime. Whatever he'd just done, it clearly wasn't what the fixture was designed for.
From the other room, he heard it's beak clicking in what sounded suspiciously like stifled laughter. A tentacle appeared around the doorway, pointing urgently at a different part of the fixture – apparently, he'd just tried to use the alien equivalent of a sink.
Red-faced and still desperate, Mike redirected his attention to the indicated area. This time the fixture hummed approvingly, though he couldn't shake the feeling that he was probably still doing it wrong. The whole thing felt like trying to use a spaceship's controls by randomly pushing buttons, except the buttons were alive and had opinions about his technique.
When he finished, he stared helplessly at the array of unknown appendages and protrusions that might have been cleaning implements. One of them waved at him cheerfully. He decided some things were better left untouched.
As he exited, he found it's eye crinkled in obvious amusement, their bioluminescence twinkling with barely contained mirth. The creature extended a tentacle holding what appeared to be some kind of cleaning cloth, their whole body shaking with silent alien giggles.