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Metempsychosis XI – Ark

By now, I have learned to expect the unexpected when it comes to my unusual ability, I certainly never expected it to reach out this far. It all began innocently with just a few random dreams, which seemed out of place with no real direction. I would be walking through an empty field or wandering alien landscapes. “I must be watching too much sci-fi crap,” I told myself. They did not follow the usual process of new dreamspheres, so I told myself my mind was going off its rocket. That is, until that one night…

I: Expect the unexpected

This place again, I muttered to myself. Third day now. The pattern kept changing just enough to make me question myself, but there was no way this was random anymore. Whatever this was, it was happening for a reason.

I slowly turned in place, scanning the horizon for anything familiar. Nothing. The landscape stretched endlessly beneath a pale, washed-out sky, barren and lifeless except for patches of primitive-looking flora clinging stubbornly to the sand and rocks. Lichen-like growths in muted greens and grays spread across cracked stone surfaces, giving the entire place the feeling of a world that had never fully developed. No trees. No animals. No signs of civilization. Just sand, jagged rock formations, and an unsettling silence that made my skin crawl. This place wasn’t Earth. I knew that much with absolute certainty.

A dry gust of wind swept across the dunes, carrying a faint metallic smell with it. I turned again, unease tightening in my chest as the feeling of being watched crept steadily stronger. Then something moved.

A dark blur darted through the corner of my vision. I snapped toward it just in time to catch sight of a small reptilian creature sprinting low across the sand before disappearing behind a cluster of rocks. It looked vaguely like a frilled lizard, but wrong somehow—its limbs too long, its movements unnaturally quick and twitchy. Against my better judgment, I followed it. Curiosity had always been my worst survival instinct.

I rounded the rocks carefully and found the creature crouched between two boulders. The moment it saw me, a wide frill snapped open around its neck, revealing jagged orange markings beneath dark leathery skin. It hissed sharply and puffed itself up, trying to appear threatening. Honestly, it looked almost cute. That impression lasted about two seconds.

The creature jerked forward with a wet choking sound and spat something directly at my face. I barely managed to throw my arm up in time before a thick green glob splattered across my forearm with a sickening smack. The creature immediately bolted, vanishing into the wasteland before I could react. “What the hell—” The substance clung to my skin like mucus, thick and revolting. I tried shaking it off, but then the itching started.

At first it was mild, almost laughable, but within seconds it intensified violently. The skin around the impact site turned red and inflamed. A spike of panic shot through me. Was I allergic to this thing? Venom? Some kind of toxin? The itching became burning. I stared in horror as my skin began to blister and peel away in thin wet layers. Acid.

“Oh, no. No, no, no—”

I frantically rubbed at it, trying to wipe the substance away, but that only spread the pain further. The flesh underneath reddened angrily as the burning sensation deepened into something unbearable. There was no water. No shelter. Nothing. Panic completely took over as I clawed at my arm in desperation.

Then I woke up.

I shot upright in bed, gasping for breath, immediately grabbing my forearm. Nothing. No burns. No wounds. No missing skin. Just my arm. I stared at it while my heartbeat slowly stopped trying to escape through my throat. “What the hell did I just see?” It hadn’t looked like anything I recognized—not from Earth, not from mythology, not even from Sirius or Arcturus. That thought unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.

At a complete loss for answers, I spent the next several days researching anything that remotely matched the creature or the environment. Reptiles. Alien encounter stories. Demonology. Fringe theories. Nothing fit. Not Sovran, not even Nevlaan had no answers for me, and somehow that bothered me the most.

For over a week, the dreams continued. Every night I found myself back in that barren wasteland. The terrain shifted subtly from one visit to the next, but it was unmistakably the same place. I stopped approaching anything that moved. Whatever lived there clearly did not appreciate visitors.

Then, on the sixth night of wandering aimlessly through the desert, I found something new. At first I mistook it for another strange rock formation jutting from the sand, but as I drew closer, distinct angular lines emerged beneath the dust. It was a structure—or at least the remains of one. The building looked partially collapsed, its surface made of some kind of dull metallic material that reflected faint silver streaks beneath the pale light. Despite that, the entire thing looked strangely organic, as though it had grown rather than been built.

My stomach tightened immediately. Something had destroyed this place. The thought came instinctively, immediate and absolute. And the more important question followed right behind it: what could destroy something like this?

Every instinct I had told me walking toward an abandoned ruin in an alien wasteland was a terrible idea. Naturally, curiosity won again.

The closer I got, the larger the structure became. What had seemed modest from a distance towered over me now, easily two stories high. The architecture made no practical sense. Sharp angular surfaces intersected at bizarre positions, with protrusions and uneven segments that looked more biological than engineered. I circled the structure cautiously until I found an opening near its base. It appeared to be some kind of sliding doorway, though it was jammed halfway open. The metal around it was warped inward, as though something enormous had forced its way through.

That realization made the silence around me feel suddenly oppressive.

I crouched near the opening and peered inside. Darkness stared back.

Once inside, I had to remind myself to breathe. The interior felt wrong in a way I could not properly explain. Nothing moved, yet everything seemed alive somehow. The walls curved with an almost organic smoothness, pulsing faintly beneath layers of dark metallic material. It felt less like walking through a structure and more like wandering through the insides of some sleeping creature. Every step made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I could not shake the sensation that something was aware of me.

I kept moving through the dim alien corridors until the hallway opened into a smaller chamber lined with strange pedestals and recessed alcoves. Crystalline objects rested inside some of them, glowing faintly beneath translucent coverings, while other surfaces were covered in knobs, protrusions, and symbols that meant absolutely nothing to me. I hesitated before reaching toward one of the crystals. The moment my fingers brushed against it, the entire room came alive.

Light pulsed violently through the walls. Thin glowing lines spread outward like veins suddenly filling with energy, and a deep hum vibrated through the floor beneath my feet. I nearly screamed and stumbled backward as my heart tried to escape through my throat. Then I felt it—that tingling warmth spreading across my skin in waves. For a moment I thought the room itself was doing something to me, but once I calmed down, recognition hit me immediately.

The activator senses.

My stomach dropped. Did I activate this somehow? I slowly looked around again, realization dawning piece by piece. The corridors. The responsive systems. The enclosed structure. This was not a building.

It was a ship. An alien spaceship.

“I really need to stop touching things,” I muttered.

The systems around me continued pulsing softly, responding to my presence in ways I could not understand. Strange symbols flickered across nearby surfaces, completely unreadable. Part of me desperately wanted to keep experimenting—to press buttons, activate more systems, maybe even learn something useful—but the smarter part of my brain reminded me I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. For all I knew, I could accidentally trigger weapons or shut down life support. Considering my recent experience with acid-spitting lizards, restraint seemed like the better option.

I retraced my steps through the corridors and headed back toward the damaged hatch I had entered through. As I approached the exit, I heard faint rustling outside and froze. Was it another one of those lizards? I told myself that if something went wrong, I could always retreat back inside the ship. It was not exactly a good plan, but technically it counted as one.

Slowly, I leaned toward the opening and peeked outside.

And immediately wished I hadn’t.

The creature standing outside was staring directly at me with six glossy black eyes. For a moment neither of us moved. It simply studied me with the same cautious intensity I was using to study it. The thing was enormous—at least fifteen feet tall, probably more. Its body was vaguely draconic in shape, but only in the loosest sense. Its midnight-purple hide was smooth and almost reflective, dark enough to appear black in places. Instead of claws, its hands and feet split into strange branching appendages that flexed slowly against the sand. Thin antenna-like protrusions twitched faintly behind its head.

The closer I looked, the worse it got. Around its face, the dark coloration faded into lighter shades of purple, framing six bulbous eyes, four small nostril-like holes, and an obscenely large mouth that stretched far wider than anything natural should. Every instinct I had screamed danger.

Unfortunately, my mouth still worked faster than my survival instincts.

“H-Hello?” I said weakly. “Can you understand me?”

The creature tilted its head slightly. Not exactly encouraging. It definitely was not looking at me like something interested in conversation. If anything, it looked like it was deciding whether I was edible.

One of its upper limbs reached toward a device attached to a belt around its torso. Sharp electronic beeps filled the air, followed by a series of deep gurgling sounds that vaguely resembled speech. Then it looked back at me.

That was enough.

A cold spike of terror shot through my chest and instinct finally took over. I ran straight back into the alien spaceship like the dumb guy in a horror movie, fully aware of how stupid the decision was even while making it. Sure enough, the creature lunged after me immediately—and to my horror, it moved far faster than something that large had any right to. Its body slithered low across the floor with terrifying speed as its limbs folded and unfolded unnaturally beneath it.

I barely made it halfway down the corridor before it caught me. One massive hand wrapped around my torso with crushing strength and lifted me effortlessly off the ground. I shouted and struggled uselessly while the creature produced another series of alien vocalizations close to my face, almost like it was trying to communicate.

Then I heard the wet squelching sound.

Something shifted along the creature’s abdomen as a vertical slit slowly opened across its belly. Two thick tentacle-like appendages slid outward from inside, coated in clear viscous slime that dripped onto the floor beneath us.

My eyes nearly bulged out of my skull.

“Nope. Nope nope nope—”

The tentacles immediately wrapped around me. The slime coating them felt horribly warm against my skin as they tightened around my limbs and torso with unnatural precision. Before I could even process what was happening, the creature forced me downward toward the opening in its abdomen. I screamed as the world became heat, pressure, and slick suffocating darkness.

Eaten by a tentacle monster. Fantastic.

I woke up violently in my bed, drenched in sweat and gasping hard enough to make myself dizzy. My entire body trembled as I sat there trying to convince myself I was actually awake. This new dreamsphere officially sucked.

The following night was even worse. Every time I started drifting off, flashes of those six black eyes or those writhing tentacles snapped me awake again. I briefly considered sedatives, but previous experience with night terrors had already taught me chemically knocking myself unconscious was usually a terrible idea.

Eventually exhaustion won. I braced myself and forced my eyes shut, secretly hoping I would end up literally anywhere else. When I opened my eyes again, the surroundings were unfamiliar. Bright light flooded the room and smooth metallic walls surrounded me, far cleaner and more organized than the ruined ship. Then something large moved directly in front of my face.

A muzzle. A very familiar muzzle.

My body reacted before my brain caught up. I tried to jerk backward and swing at it instinctively, only to discover I could barely move. My wrists and arms were restrained tightly against some kind of surface beneath me.

Panic surged immediately.

The creature reached for a device on its belt then heard some beeping.

And then, it spoke.

“Greetings,” it said calmly. “Are you able to understand me now?”

II: The Andromedan connection

Once my eyes adjusted to the brightness, I realized the creature standing over me was not alone. There were four of them, all enormous and all staring at me with those glossy black eyes. I completely ignored the greeting. My pulse immediately spiked as the memory of those tentacles and that suffocating heat came flooding back.

“Y-You ate me!”

The one closest to me recoiled slightly, genuine confusion rippling across its face—or at least what I assumed passed for a face. “I do not understand.”

“You had those… tentacle things,” I stammered, struggling against the restraints again. “And you shoved me inside your belly and—”

“Please, calm down,” the creature interrupted, its voice surprisingly calm and patient. “There appears to be a misunderstanding. I did not consume you. You were panicked, and I placed you inside my sac in an attempt to calm you.”

I stopped struggling for a second. “Your… sac?”

“Yes.”

Before I could respond, a vertical opening slowly spread across the creature’s abdomen. I immediately tensed, but instead of some horrific digestive nightmare, I saw a large hollow cavity lined with smooth tissue coated in glistening fluid. Warm vapor drifted faintly from inside. And the smell was… sweet. Not rotten. Not acidic. Alien, definitely, but strangely pleasant.

I stared at it, completely dumbfounded. “So… that’s a safe space?”

“Yes. Normally, we use it to carry our offspring.”

That single sentence somehow made the entire situation even weirder. Dragon-octopus-kangaroo aliens. I could not believe that was an actual thought my brain produced under stress.

The opening sealed shut again as smoothly as it had appeared. My panic had not completely vanished, but it was rapidly losing ground to sheer confusion. “Can you… untie me?”

The four creatures exchanged glances before the nearest one answered. “If you promise not to flee or attempt to harm anyone, then yes.”

“Yeah. Fair.” I let out an awkward breath. “Sorry, I guess. You just surprised me. I got attacked earlier by some weird lizard thing that spat acid at me.”

The creature tilted its head slightly. “Ah. Did it resemble this?”

One of its upper limbs retrieved a thin rectangular device attached to its belt. It looked oddly similar to a PDA despite the obvious alien design. A glowing image appeared on its surface, and I immediately recognized the lizard.

“Yep. That’s the asshole.”

A series of low clicking noises passed between the others. After a moment, the first creature spoke a word that sounded like someone gargling underwater through a synthesizer.

“Right,” I said immediately. “I’m not even going to try pronouncing that.”

To my surprise, that got an actual reaction out of them. Several produced softer chittering sounds that I slowly realized was laughter.

“In your language,” the first one explained, “the name roughly translates to ‘the one which burns hide.’”

“Subtle.”

More clicking laughter followed before the restraints around my wrists loosened and retracted. I sat up carefully, rubbing feeling back into my arms while trying not to stare too obviously at the towering aliens surrounding me. Part of me still wanted to run, but I had absolutely nowhere to run to, and breaking my promise immediately after being untied felt like a fantastic way to end up back in the weird baby pouch.

Besides, they did not actually seem hostile anymore. Just extremely alien.

I realized I was openly staring by this point, trying to mentally process the impossible mixture of features. Smooth dragon-like bodies, branching limbs, antennae, six eyes… I must have looked just as bizarre to them.

“So…” I glanced around the brightly lit room again. “Who exactly are you people, and more importantly, where the hell am I?”

The creatures exchanged another series of clicks and low vocalizations before one finally answered. “We were correct. You are not native to this place.”

“Clearly,” I muttered. My eyes drifted toward the walls and surrounding architecture. Up close, the room looked remarkably similar to the ruined ship I had explored earlier. “Actually… this place kind of looks like that ship I found.”

“Ah,” the creature said. “Are you Arcturian?”

Finally. A word I recognized.

“No. Not exactly. Terran.”

That got a noticeably stronger reaction. The four creatures began speaking quietly among themselves in layered vocalizations while I sat there trying not to feel completely out of my depth. After a moment, the first one looked back toward me.

“You are very far from your place of origin. And you do not appear prepared for space travel.”

“You are absolutely correct about that.” I paused. “So where exactly is ‘here’?”

Without another word, one of them activated the device again. A three-dimensional star chart flickered into existence above it, glowing softly in the air between us. I was not an astrophysicist by any stretch, but I had researched Sirius and Arcturus enough to recognize major stellar structures when I saw them.

And I immediately recognized what they were pointing at.

Andromeda.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

The nearest creature tilted its head slightly. “Do we resemble anything from Terra?”

“…Okay, fair point.”

Silence lingered briefly before another question forced its way into my brain.

“So… uh…” I gestured awkwardly between them. “Are you male or female?”

The creatures blinked at me almost in unison.

“We do not fit within your species’ constraints of gender,” the first one replied calmly. “We are both, and we are neither. We self-reproduce.”

I stared at them. “You what?! How does that even work?”

The creature answered with the same patient tone it had used this entire time. “We produce a chemical catalyst that triggers the secretion of a cellular fluid. The fluid agglutinates and develops into a spawn, which eventually matures into offspring. The offspring is then carried within the sac you previously occupied.”

I sat there in silence for several seconds.

“…I have absolutely no idea how to respond to any of that.”

I tried my best to mentally shelve the entire reproduction explanation because it had gone completely over my head. My brain simplified it into some kind of bizarre cloning process and left it at that. Were they a hivemind? Related somehow? Did individuality even work the same way for them? Honestly, none of those questions were helping. I had bigger problems to process—like the fact I had essentially just been unbirthed by an alien! Even working in the medical field had not prepared me for that conversation. Whatever these creatures were doing, it certainly did not fit anywhere within my concept of obstetrics, or reproduction in general.

Then again, I was probably just as alien to them as they were to me.

Just when I thought the conversation could not get any stranger, my new “friend” suddenly reached for me. I immediately tensed when several of those tentacle-like appendages slid out again. My first instinct was panic. Was I in trouble? Had I done something offensive without realizing it?

To my surprise, the appendages merely moved across me slowly, exploring rather than restraining. I felt them glide over my arms, shoulders, chest, even my face. They were warm and slightly slick, but not unpleasantly slimy like before. That same strange scent filled the air again—that impossible sweetness somewhere between cotton candy and ripe fruit. I still could not properly describe it.

It felt incredibly weird… but not unpleasant.

Ark—well, the alien I would later start calling Ark—noticed my confusion and explained that their limbs themselves were not especially sensitive. The tentacles, or dendrites as they apparently functioned biologically, were how they interpreted texture, electrical impulses, and other sensory information. They were essentially external sensory organs.

That explanation somehow made the experience both less horrifying and infinitely weirder.

Then the others moved in.

Suddenly I found myself surrounded, covered in warm exploratory dendrites from multiple aliens at once. Tentacles slid carefully across my body from every direction while strange clicking noises passed between them, almost like they were discussing me in real time. Even now, thinking back on that moment makes me squirm a little. Damn the xenophile in me…

I woke up in bed afterward feeling deeply conflicted. Part of me felt vaguely violated—because, you know, tentacles—but another part of me was overwhelmingly curious. Somewhere along the line, this new dreamsphere had stopped being purely terrifying and had become fascinating instead.

III: Culture shock

The following night, I went to bed completely naked. Honestly, it just seemed easier at that point. It was not like the aliens cared about human clothing anyway.

To my surprise, when I opened my eyes again, only one of the creatures was present. The moment it noticed I was awake, it produced that familiar barking vocalization that vaguely sounded like the word “ark.” Naturally, my exhausted human brain latched onto that immediately and decided that was its name now.

“Alright,” I said while sitting up. “Let’s try this again. Hi, Ark.”

“Hello, Jon.”

I grinned despite myself. “See? That’s already way less weird than me constantly calling you ‘alien’ or ‘it.’ It makes you sound like furniture.”

Ark tilted his head slightly. “I see. You are comfortable with us now?”

“Definitely more comfortable,” I admitted. “You’re surprisingly friendly. Where are the others?”

“Operating the ship.”

That made me pause. “Wait. Ship?”

Ark gave a low thoughtful click before answering. “Apologies. The derelict vessel you discovered crashed upon one of our moons. We were dispatched to recover data and search for survivors.”

“Oh.” I blinked. “That explains a lot. I didn’t see anyone onboard when I explored it.”

“Correct. The vessel was abandoned. Ship records yielded little information. You activated the distress beacon accidentally.”

I immediately winced. “Oops. Sorry about that.”

“No,” Ark replied quickly, antennae twitching. “Because of you, we located the vessel. That is beneficial.”

“Well… glad my stupidity helped somebody.” I glanced around again before another realization hit me. “Actually, that reminds me—how exactly am I breathing? I was honestly expecting Andromeda to be less oxygen-friendly.”

“Climate centers aboard the ship generate artificial atmosphere and gravitational stabilization.”

“That would do it.” I hesitated briefly before curiosity got the better of me again. “So… biologically speaking, you guys have lungs and hearts and stuff?”

That was the first time I heard Ark genuinely laugh.

The sound was bizarre—a mixture of clicking, barking, and low vibrating chirps—but unmistakably amused.

“Of course,” he replied once he settled down slightly. “You must understand that regardless of planetary origin, sentient life still requires mechanisms for respiration, circulation, and cognition. There are merely… variations.”

“Right. Variations. Sure.”

“According to your physiological terminology, we possess four lungs, three hearts, eight brains, and six eyes.”

I stared at him for a second.

“Well damn. The octopus comparison in my mind really was accurate.”

“I do not know what an orktopoos is.”

“Oc-to-pus. And honestly, probably for the best. Suffice to say, they also have several hearts and brains.”

I leaned back slightly, relaxing more than I probably should have around a fifteen-foot alien apex predator. “I still have no idea how I ended up here, but I’m definitely glad your people found me first. I could do without getting melted by acid-spitting wildlife.”

Ark immediately perked up. “You have not encountered (unintelligible) yet.”

A glowing image appeared on his device a moment later. The creature displayed looked like someone had merged a chameleon with an oversized jungle cat.

“…Does it spit acid too?”

“Yes.”

I threw my hands into the air. “What is wrong with Andromeda?! Why does everything here have acid?!”

Ark made another amused clicking noise. Then a horrifying thought occurred to me.

“…Ark?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t spit acid too, right?”

“We do not,” he answered calmly. “We possess another defensive adaptation.”

Before I could ask what that meant, Ark turned slightly.

And I immediately discovered his tail was hiding a very nasty surprise; a massive barb unfolded from beneath it.

“Oh, come on!”

The thing looked horrifyingly similar to a giant biological syringe, and judging by Ark’s expression, my reaction had been immediate and obvious. I absolutely hated needles, and apparently my body had decided a giant alien acid stinger counted as the ultimate version of one.

“It injects acid,” Ark admitted.

I physically jerked backward.

Ark immediately recoiled in response, antennae flattening slightly. “Apologies. I did not intend distress.”

A moment later, several warm dendrites wrapped gently around my shoulders and arms again. This time, though, I did not squirm away from the contact. Instead, almost instinctively, I leaned into him slightly. Ark seemed surprised by that. His upper limbs shifted carefully around me, and before I fully realized what was happening, we were awkwardly hugging each other.

That was probably the exact moment things became dangerous… because despite the fact I was hugging a gigantic alien eldritch dragon-octopus thing from another galaxy… my brain unfortunately still worked exactly like a human brain. And being into aliens was not exactly unheard of back on Earth.

I tried very hard not to think about that realization… and I failed miserably. The moment Ark noticed my sudden embarrassment, he tilted his head curiously. Trying to explain xenophiles to an alien species from Andromeda was not a conversation I had ever expected to have in my life, but somehow it happened anyway. Oddly enough, Ark found the entire thing amusing rather than disturbing. More importantly, he seemed genuinely pleased by the fact I liked him instead of wanting to run away.

Ark’s antennae twitched faintly as he studied me with those glossy black eyes. I could practically feel amusement radiating off him through the dendrites still loosely coiled around my arms and waist. “So,” he asked, his voice carrying that calm, almost curious tone again, “you enjoy the way I appear, Jon?”

Heat immediately rushed to my face.

“Well… yeah,” I admitted awkwardly. “I mean, you’re very alien. Kind of dragon-ish, squid-ish, and objectively dangerous…” I paused, realizing how ridiculous that sounded out loud. “But that also somehow makes you attractive.”

Ark tilted his head slowly. “That statement appears contradictory.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to humans!”

A low series of clicking noises escaped him again—alien laughter, apparently—and before I could recover, several of his dendrites resumed wandering curiously across my body. This time they moved with noticeably more confidence, gliding across my sides, shoulders, and thighs in ways that made staying still increasingly difficult.

“Perhaps,” Ark continued calmly while one dendrite traced lightly along my stomach, “there is more to your interest than you initially disclosed.”

I immediately looked away. “Umm… maybe. Your species is basically asexual, so I didn’t exactly think you’d understand.”

That only seemed to amuse him more.

“Being nonsexual does not imply ignorance,” he replied. “We are familiar with reproductive attraction and pair-bonding behaviors in other species. The Confederation contains considerable biological diversity.”

I blinked. “Wait. Confederation…?”

Ark’s posture straightened slightly with what almost looked like pride. “As far as we are aware, our species is the oldest within it. The Arcturian peoples and the Sirian reptilian races are believed to be evolutionary descendants of our kind.”

That statement hit me like a truck. Suddenly the similarities made a lot more sense. The reptilian traits of the Kelva. The psychic sensitivity of Elvani. Even certain recurring patterns I had noticed in various accounts and previous encounters.

“I’m starting to understand the link now,” I muttered mostly to myself.

Ark’s antennae shifted curiously. “The link?”

I immediately realized I had probably said too much. Trying to explain Terran conspiracy theories and my Metempsychosis to an alien from Andromeda sounded like a fantastic way to embarrass myself.

“Never mind,” I said quickly. “It’s not important.”

“If you say so.”

There was a brief pause as the room settled into a surprisingly comfortable silence. Ark’s dendrites eventually withdrew, though not entirely. One remained loosely wrapped around my wrist almost absentmindedly, like casual physical contact had become natural between us already.

Then Ark looked back toward me. “Would you appreciate a tour of the ship?”

And so, we were on our way. The tour was incredible. The deeper into the ship we traveled, the more obvious it became that this vessel was nothing like the Arcturian or Sirian craft I had seen before. Those ships had always felt technological—advanced, absolutely, but still mechanical in ways my brain could categorize. This ship was different. It felt alive. Not metaphorically alive, either. The walls pulsed subtly beneath shifting layers of dark organic-looking material, almost like slow breathing beneath skin. Veins of dim bioluminescent light traveled through the corridors in rhythmic waves, reacting to movement around them. Every surface curved with unsettling smoothness, lacking the hard seams and industrial geometry human engineering relied on. Even the air felt different—warm, humid, and carrying that faint sweet scent I had already begun associating with Ark’s species. Somewhere deep within the structure, I could hear a constant low vibration resonating through the floors and walls, not unlike the heartbeat of some colossal sleeping creature.

It should have terrified me. Instead, the strangest part was how familiar it felt. Every instinct told me this place was alien beyond comprehension, yet there was this persistent sensation of recognition lingering at the back of my mind. Not memory exactly, but something adjacent to it. Like my brain was responding to patterns it somehow already understood. The ship felt ancient, aware, and impossibly old, but at the same time… welcoming. I hated how comforting that felt. Even engineering sections that should have looked cold and functional carried that same organic aesthetic. Massive chamber walls flexed faintly around enormous biomechanical structures that seemed grown rather than manufactured. Tubular conduits pulsed with glowing fluid instead of electricity. Semi-transparent membranes stretched across openings where doors should have been, parting automatically whenever Ark approached. At one point I stopped to stare at what looked disturbingly like a gigantic suspended organ connected to branching metallic veins.

Ark noticed immediately.

“You perceive the vessel as biological,” he observed calmly.

“Because it is biological!”

“Partially,” he corrected. “The vessel contains cultivated living systems integrated with conventional engineering.”

“Okay, that sentence somehow made it worse.”

That earned another round of clicking laughter from him.

The section Ark referred to as the birthing wing was somehow both adorable and deeply unsettling. The chambers there were warmer than the rest of the ship, filled with soft glowing pools and clusters of semi-organic structures that resembled giant translucent cocoons. Inside them were their offspring.

At first glance they barely resembled the towering aliens I had met. The young looked much more squid-like initially, with soft rounded bodies, oversized eyes, and clusters of tiny undeveloped dendrites twitching constantly around them. Some floated lazily in nutrient-filled sacs while others crawled awkwardly across padded surfaces under the watchful attention of several adults. Some clearly had them in their own belly sacs.

They were weird. Very weird. But also kind of cute in the way bizarre alien babies apparently could be. Unfortunately, the moment I mentally connected one of them to Ark, my exhausted human brain immediately imagined him as a tiny squid creature and I completely lost composure. A snort escaped me, followed by increasingly uncontrollable laughter.

Ark looked down at me curiously. “You are distressed?”

“No,” I wheezed, trying and failing to stop laughing. “I just pictured you as one of those little squid babies and now I can’t unsee it.”

To my relief, Ark looked more amused than offended. Several nearby adults also began producing soft clicking sounds once he translated for them.

“You find our developmental stages strange,” Ark observed.

“Says the giant psychic dragon-octopus.”

“That… is fair.”

Unfortunately, Ark then informed me that several of them had privately been referring to me as “the hairless primate.”

That immediately wiped the smugness off my face.

“Oh, come on! That is such a cliché!”

The bridge of the ship was somehow even more impressive than the rest of the vessel. The chamber opened into a vast circular space layered with translucent holographic displays floating freely through the air like constellations. Instead of chairs or consoles, enormous curved structures extended organically from the floor itself, pulsing faintly beneath the touch of the crew operating them. The forward section of the room was dominated by an immense semi-transparent membrane through which stars drifted silently in impossible clarity.

For a moment, I completely forgot I was technically inside an alien spacecraft.

It felt more like standing inside a living observatory suspended between galaxies.

Ark introduced me to what I assumed was the captain—a massive dark red individual whose sheer size immediately commanded attention. His voice carried a deep resonant quality that practically vibrated through my chest when he spoke. Beside him was the pilot, who completely caught me off guard. Much smaller, her coloration was a soft cyan-blue rather than the darker shades I had seen so far, and her demeanor was noticeably quieter and more reserved. Her voice carried softer tones too, which my human brain immediately categorized as feminine despite everything Ark had explained earlier about their species.

When I mentioned liking vehicles and aerospace technology, the pilot seemed genuinely pleased and brightened up. She broke out of her reserved nature and began showing me various navigational systems. Most of it went hopelessly over my head almost immediately. Symbols shifted faster than I could process them while three-dimensional star maps folded and reconfigured themselves in ways that made my brain hurt. Still, I could not stop grinning. The entire experience felt like stepping directly into one of those old 90s sci-fi shows I used to binge-watch growing up, except now it felt very real and I was somehow standing inside one talking to actual aliens from Andromeda.

Then Ark casually informed me he was going to undergo “decontamination.”

Apparently it was some kind of steam-based cleansing process they performed regularly aboard the ship. He described it as relaxing and then, with complete innocence, asked if I wanted to join him. That should have been the moment I politely declined. Everything about the invitation screamed cultural misunderstanding. For Ark, it clearly meant absolutely nothing beyond sharing a routine hygienic process. For me, meanwhile, my xenophile brain had already started sounding alarm bells the second he said the words “join me.” Naturally, I accepted anyway. With far more enthusiasm than I should have.

The decontamination chambers themselves were surprisingly familiar compared to the rest of the ship. The room resembled an oversized steam shower, with smooth curved walls lined by narrow vents and openings. Warm vapor drifted through the air continuously, carrying faint mineral and floral scents. Soft blue bioluminescent strips glowed beneath the floor, reflecting through the mist in shifting patterns. Honestly, it almost looked normal. That illusion vanished the moment the steam activated fully.

A burst of intensely hot vapor exploded from the wall vents with enough force to make me stumble backward. For one horrifying second I thought I was being boiled alive before the temperature stabilized into a deep penetrating heat that spread through my muscles almost instantly. The pressure remained intense though, wrapping around my body like standing inside a tropical storm. Ark stepped into the steam first with an obvious familiarity, his massive silhouette partially obscured behind swirling clouds of vapor. I heard a series of low chirps and soft clicking sounds from deeper inside the chamber—happy sounds, surprisingly enough. Cute sounds. That realization alone was dangerous.

Then Ark motioned for me to join him. I hesitated at the threshold for a moment longer than I probably should have. Every rational part of my brain was aware that I was naked, alone, and voluntarily stepping into a steam chamber with a giant alien I was increasingly attracted to. Unfortunately, Ark’s reassuring posture combined with my own terrible decision-making skills won out. Trying very hard not to think too much about the situation, I stepped inside.

Honestly, it was pleasant. At first, it felt alienating having no actual water but it certainly felt like you were being decontaminated. Ark kept close and even though I tried my best to not get worked up, I failed miserably in that endeavor. In minutes I was almost squirming from a raging boner and Ark, in an attempt to make me relax, began to secrete what I think was pheromones because I felt very lightheaded and I think I was drooling at one point. The steam wrapped around us in thick swirling waves, hot enough to blur the edges of my thoughts. Between the heat, the exhaustion, and Ark’s constant physical contact, my brain was already struggling to function normally. Then the dendrites started moving again.

One glided slowly along my back while another brushed lower across my hips and rump, exploratory and gentle. That alone nearly made me melt against him. The next one, however, slid across my painfully obvious arousal, and whatever remained of my composure immediately disintegrated. I jerked against Ark with a strangled gasp, instinctively grabbing onto him for support as the sensations overwhelmed me completely. The warmth of the steam, the slick texture of the dendrites, the strange sweetness filling the air—it all crashed together at once. Before I could even think about trying to stop myself, I climaxed hard against him, left trembling and breathless while my brain desperately tried deciding whether to hide forever or simply die on the spot.

Ark, meanwhile, sounded deeply amused.

Several soft clicks and low chirping noises escaped him while I stood there internally imploding from embarrassment. Then, before I could recover, one of his dendrites lifted slightly. And Ark casually brought it toward his maw.

“ARK!” I practically yelped. “You can’t just do that!”

He paused immediately, clearly startled by my reaction. “Why not? I was curious.” His antennae twitched thoughtfully. “You taste… musky. Earth-like.”

“Stop right there,” I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “That is way too much information.”

Ark tilted his head again, completely unbothered. “Your reaction suggests this behavior carries social significance.”

“Yes! Extremely private social significance!” I could barely look at him anymore. “Humans do not casually taste each other’s… fluids unless they are very close.”

“I see.”

The way he said it immediately made me nervous.

“So,” Ark continued after a brief pause, “I am not considered close to you?”

Damn it. I opened my mouth to answer and immediately realized there was absolutely no safe direction this conversation could go. The hesitation alone seemed to answer the question for him because a series of amused clicking sounds followed almost instantly. Clearly, human embarrassment was fascinating to him.

I sighed dramatically. “You really enjoy watching me struggle, don’t you?”

“You produce highly expressive body language.”

“That is not a denial!”

More clicking laughter. Ark’s dendrites remained loosely coiled around me while the steam continued drifting heavily through the chamber. The atmosphere somehow felt softer now, quieter. Less frightening. I hated how natural standing there with him was starting to feel.

“So then,” Ark asked again, “this experience was pleasant for you, yes?”

“You can say that again.”

He immediately repeated, completely sincerely, “So then, this experience was pleasant for you, yes?”

I snorted so hard I nearly doubled over laughing.

“No, no—that’s not what I meant.” I rubbed my face again, still grinning helplessly. “It’s… never mind. Human expression. But yes. It was definitely more than pleasant.”

Ark seemed satisfied with that answer, though the obvious confusion over human idioms still lingered. Honestly, considering how often I failed to understand their species, I could hardly blame him.

After a while, the warmth and exhaustion started catching up with me again. My thoughts felt heavier, slower, and Ark seemed to notice immediately.

“You are becoming fatigued,” he observed. “Would you prefer to rest?”

“Honestly? Yeah… I think I’m starting to fade out again.”

“There are resting pods available aboard the ship,” Ark explained, “though they may not be properly configured for your physiology.”

I immediately narrowed my eyes. “So what exactly are you suggesting?”

The playful clicking noise he made in response told me everything before he even answered.

“Oh no,” I muttered. “I know exactly where this is going.”

“You do not wish to?” Ark asked curiously. “Is it because you prefer our pilot? You certainly appeared comfortable with them.”

“What? No!” I sputtered. “That’s not— Besides, in my head she’s basically female, and the idea of going inside her would be incredibly awkward for me!”

Ark processed that for a moment. “Then you prefer males?”

I immediately groaned. “…I guess I walked right into that one.”

Ark looked unbearably pleased with himself.

“Alright, fine,” I admitted while fidgeting uselessly beneath his gaze. “Yes. I prefer males. And besides…” I hesitated briefly before mumbling, “it’s not like you haven’t already shoved me in there once.”

“That is true,” Ark replied far too calmly. “I will ensure you remain warm and comfortable.”

“That is so not the point, Ark.”

“Then what troubles you?” His tone softened noticeably. “Are you embarrassed?”

I let out a slow breath. “Not because of you. Honestly, probably less because of you than because of myself.” I glanced away awkwardly. “I’m embarrassed by how I feel about all this.”

For once, Ark did not laugh. Several dendrites instead wrapped gently around my arms and shoulders, their touch calm and reassuring rather than playful.

“We can resolve that with time,” he said quietly. “If we are to know one another more deeply, then trust is necessary. Allow me to guide this.”

By that point, I was too exhausted to argue anymore. The heat and lingering haze from earlier sensations had left me lightheaded, and somewhere in the back of my mind I already knew I was close to waking up again anyway. I leaned against him weakly. Almost immediately, the dendrites tightened around me and lifted me effortlessly off the floor. Despite their strange texture and alien appearance, the sensation no longer felt frightening. If anything, it felt safe.

A moment later, the familiar slit along Ark’s abdomen opened again. The sight should have unsettled me. Instead, my body reacted with an embarrassing rush of warmth. I barely had time to process that realization before the dendrites guided me inward once more. The sensation still resembled being swallowed, it was warm and enveloping from every direction, but now that I was relaxed, it felt entirely different. Comfortable. Intimate, even.

Fluid coated my body almost immediately, warm and slick against my skin. A tingling sensation spread through me wherever it touched, relaxing my muscles and filling my limbs with pleasant heaviness. Some kind of sedative, maybe. Ark said something outside, but by then his voice already sounded distant and distorted beneath the growing haze clouding my senses. The warmth surrounding me deepened further, cocooning me completely. For the first time since all of this started, I stopped fighting the exhaustion and I peacefully drifted away.

I woke up in bed feeling both incredibly refreshed and intensely worked up. This new dreamsphere promised to be quite interesting indeed…

To be continued