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Set Me on Fire - Part 1 - (Tentaspy Origins)

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Set Me on Fire



1910
He had been one of the first successes of the project, but not the first result, and that was fortunate for him. His surgery wouldn't have gone well, considering how the procedure had ended for the first two. The list of operations and modifications was endless. Years of theoretical research on the alteration and manipulation of the DNA of two different species had been done and completed. However, no matter how thoroughly the scientists had calculated and analyzed their data, from the very beginning failure had been taken into account, sacrifices for the progress. After all, a plan such as this hadn't been considered ever before, let alone executed.
The idea of combining two different creatures was older than any Greek myth. When a scientist one day had the idea to not only sew body parts together, but also to splice and rearrange the DNA of two species and implant it, the possibility to create a functioning, breathing chimera suddenly had been within human's reach.

When it had been Jean's turn, pages of the research data had already been crossed out and were replaced by new facts and theories. During the process of his transition, his genetic code had been changed in several steps. His own body had refused to accept the new parts at first. It had been expected to happen so everyone had been prepared to work on his body day and night. Along with his metabolism, his organs had been changed and threatened to fail several times. The blood in his body had had to be adjusted to the new requirements of his lungs and cells daily. Even after the process had been finished, it had taken for his bone marrow to create the necessary amount of blood on its own.

Each little step had been noted down. Success or failure – both leaded to new results, but when the prognosis had changed from 'expecting nothing but more data' to 'carefully optimistic' that he would be the first one to survive, the scientists were in a delighted mood for a few days.

For him, it meant that the pains from cuts and injections, the burn from his own blood fighting the new and the infected seams wasn't over. One day, his pulse would have been so weak that his lips and extremities already would be a dangerously dark color. Another day, he would have been shaken by a fever that threatened to affect his brain permanently. Scalpels had opened his wounds to drain atter or remove necrotic tissue. Needles were rammed into his flesh, containing beta-blockers when he was so hypertensive that his heart could burst any moment. Sometimes, they filled with adrenaline so his heart would beat at all.
His file was filled with long lists of medical and scientific terms about his transformation, reactions, changes and every type of medication he had received. Every new record about him proved old theories wrong, improved them or leaded to new ideas that filled other files.

What he remembered was the pain - how his own screams echoed in his ears until he was hoarse whenever his own blood poisoned him, the heat in his veins burnt him. And he remembered the ever present smell of open and drying wounds.

Jean flinched as he recalled those days. The few scientists still working here from that time sometimes talked about the excitement they had felt when he survived.
'Excitement' wasn't exactly the term he would choose to describe the state of his mind. His tongue slowly glided over the tips of his pointy, sharp teeth. Once he had learned how to handle his new body, he had hoped to forget about the first weeks, and the pain of the first days.
He should have guessed that such a hope was in vain. His teeth were strong, convenient and very dangerous. Over the years he had learned to accept and even like his new smile. This didn't change the fact that he still sometimes dreamed of that day back then when he had been awake enough to understand what his tongue was feeling. Nothing. No, not nothing – it had glided over small depressions in his gums. The flesh hadn't been healed at that point and his mouth with filled with the taste of old blood. Slowly, it had dawned on him why his whole face had hurt and had been swollen like every bone had been smashed.

Every tooth had been pulled out.

Only later he had really understood how fortunate his coma and fever had been. If he had been fully conscious shortly after the removal...
He didn't even want to imagine the pain. It had been bad enough, waking up in the middle of the night, realizing he had been turned into a toothless thing. In the morning they had explained to him that it had been for his own good. Soon he would grow more appropriate teeth anyway. They had been right of course. When the day came his new teeth broke through, it was another, new experience of pain for him. The pressure in his jaws and under the surface of his gums prevented him from sleeping for days and without the high dose of painkillers he would probably have gone crazy. A humiliating time, as he lay on his bed, curled up and feeling like a teething baby.

No, the first time in his new home was nothing he liked to remember.

The final result, however, was impressive. Also a sight he and everyone who might see him for the first time would have to get used to, true. In the course of time, Jean had gotten used to his body and to the fact that he wasn't perceived as a human being anymore. Even if part of him - and certainly his consciousness - was still human, many of those surrounding him every day saw nothing more in him than an animal, nothing more than a lab rat.

By now, he had spent many years here, down in this laboratory. Decades, to be precise.
She had calmly explained to him, on one of the few rare days at the beginning when he was fully conscious, that he had been involved in an disastrous accident on the battlefield. An uncontrolled detonation had cost him both legs and when they tried to save his life they had to face unexpected complications. He had been more dead than alive and beyond help, unless...
So he, himself, had agreed to become a part of this experiment, a new field of research.

Or so he was told.

He didn't remember. Just as he didn't remember anything about a battlefield or the accident. He had to rely on the information they gave him; it was up to him what he chose to doubt and what to believe. Either way, it wouldn't change anything of what he was now.

So he was a Spy once, he would often muse. A spy with eight dark-blue tentacles. Longer and more powerful than any human leg could ever be. He could inflict death and destruction so easily, if he wanted to. Killing two or three humans at once wouldn't have be a problem, and he would still have his hands free. And then? What would come next?

Lazily, he swam in a large basin and waited. His tentacles glided peacefully through the water as they curled up and stretched again. The wet, endurable skin reflected the cold light whenever they broke through the surface.
He enjoyed the tranquility at this hour, when nobody would bother him with questions or tests. During the last ten or twenty years, his life had become more peaceful anyway. Once he had been the first success, but since then, not the last. Especially for new, younger scientists, it was important to see and understand the first surviving prototype of the project, but he wasn't the most interesting of his kin anymore. They had advanced immensely with their research, thanks to him. However, slowly his status from the exciting success was changing to a still fascinating, but nevertheless obsolete relict in the eyes of science.

He dived under, swam across the pool underwater and emerged again. Letting himself float on the water on his back, he stared at the ceiling and, as countless times before, pondered over his time here and his life before. After all these years, he still hadn't stopped wondering about who he used to be. His earliest memory was when he had woken up for the first time after he had become a part of the experiment, and how he had yelled and cried because of the pain.

What he didn't remember was his family.

That there had been people 'out there' who once had waited for his return.

An elderly, little mother he had written cheerful letters.
A fiancée who had kissed him good-bye when he had left for his last mission, after they had planned their wedding over the last days before his departure.

He also didn't know how his parents, close friends and the lovely woman he had left behind had gathered around his closed, empty coffin. It had been a peaceful, quiet funeral. The eulogy had moved everyone to tears while his family lamented in silence why, oh, why a young, formidable man had to die so cruelly that nothing had been left of his body.

Several years later, his mother and many people he had never met before silently cried around his father's coffin. Ten years later, an even smaller group assembled in the same chapel when his mother followed his father – and, how she firmly believed during her last hours, her son.

His fiancée had become the wife of another man and given birth to children who were old enough to have their own families. Today, she was the elderly little mother.

Lives and deaths he didn't know anything about, neither the past nor present. He assumed that, if he suddenly remembered, he would have to mourn loved ones passed. If he met one of those still alive, he probably wouldn't recognize them, after all these years. And them, if they saw him? They would scream and run away, horrified for the rest of their life.

The scientists had always dodged his questions about his past, and after years, he had given up. Maybe, he had to admit, it was for the best. Whoever they were who he once knew and who once knew him, it was easier if he didn't remember and if they never learned what had happened to him. Maybe he was lying to himself. A comforting lie whenever he felt an vague pain in his heart when he thought of his unknown past self.

Even if there still were people who remembered him, even if he had been lied to about his consent for the project or about the accident that had brought him here – a different truth wouldn't change what he was now. There was no place for him in the world outside anymore. It didn't need much imagination on his part to know that.

He hadn't, however, had the experience of how humans would react to him yet. His home was here. The laboratory was the only place he could be safe. It was a constant reminder of the moment when he woke up after he had been 'changed', yes, but it was also a shelter for him and the other creatures who had become his kind.
The only normal humans they ever met were the scientists. Calm, serious and intelligent men and women. Although a higher education and years of hard work in the field of gene splicing didn't automatically mean they treated the living results of their projects with respect.
Jean and his kind weren't regarded as humans and in most cases, a cold, indifferent attitude towards them was the lesser evil. They were nothing but objects, toys and tools. Many of those men who created Jean and the others like him were the same men who now regarded him with contempt, especially when he moved and acted among them as if he were still one of them.
While some of the scientists simply ignored him when they didn't need him for more studies, others openly showed that a mere lab rat wasn't worth any friendliness and compassion.

If those were the reactions his new body caused in humans who knew exactly what had made him what he was – more so, who were even responsible for it, his effect on humans who were ignorant of his existence would probably be devastating.

So he accepted the situation as given and dealt with it in his own way. After all, he had gotten used to the tentacles that had replaced his legs – a few impolite imbeciles without manners who he could easily rip into pieces were hardly worth of his time and anger.

He leaned with his back against the pool edge and looked at the ceiling. The lights of the neon tubes were too bright and burnt in his eyes. This room was as dull and plain as the research areas. Jean missed a bit of flair and splendor around him. Although he didn't know how he used to live before, he was certain that his old self didn't live in a basement with an always wet floor and barren walls.
He had the large basin all to himself this afternoon.
Without even one of the others who usually shared the pool with him, it was very quiet. Privacy for them was rare and he usually welcomed any chance to have some time for himself. But as the years went by, dwelling alone in a place free of any inspiration had lost its appeal.

He was bored.

Somebody was rushing through the corridor outside this room – he could hear voices and footsteps, but they were too far away for him to tell who it was and what excited them so much. A door was opened and closed, and again, the only noise came from his tentacles when they slowly moved through the water, causing some gentle splashes.

Another hour had passed and Louis hadn't come.

Still staring at the lamps with squinted eyes, Jean smiled. Then he sighed.

Louis was different. Unlike Jean, Louis had been spared the surgery that had turned him into a tentacle-creature. The other tenta was genuine.
Changing a normal human's body and DNA had only been the first step of the project. Once the scientists had finally completed Jean's alteration, they knew what had to be done to make more like him. The procedure had been repeated. Finally, they had reached the first stage of the program.

The next step – natural reproduction.

Jean snorted. They could name it as they wanted, but 'natural' seemed like a bad joke to him. Or rather, a mockery of nature.

Whatever he thought about it didn't change the fact that the next step was breeding.
Again, it didn't work at the first time and 'casualties' – another often used term Jean hated – were unavoidable and calculated.

In the end, after several 'casualties', this part of the project eventually resulted in a success – four tentas had been born, one of them Louis, with two brothers and a sister.
So at first, his new kind was created, only to be bred, to the amusement, no, of course 'in the name of science'. The aversion Jean had felt at first when he heard of the plans had vanished when he saw the babies for the first time. They had been so small. Small, breathing and alive. Helpless little things.

Those helpless little things were almost 35 years old today.
Not that anyone who only looked at their human halves would have believed that. Jean wasn't sure if it was intended or a side-effect, but not only their cell structure had been changed. He didn't age like a human anymore. Those born here over 30 years ago grew up fast at first like any human child, but after a few years, the process slowed down considerably. Jean himself still looked like his 30 years old self when he was – he had to think about it for a moment – in fact 66.
Now, Louis was older than Jean had been when he his new life had begun, while just from his looks, nobody would assume he was older than 17 or 18.

'Time sure flies down here,' he mused as he thought of the years now lying behind him.
Yet, time seemed to stand still in their isolated world. Reluctantly, he had to admit that the once drastic changes had lost their novelty and excitement. Neither experiments nor scientists were what really agitated him these days. Instead, boredom had become one of the most irritating bothers. Unthinkable how he should find any enjoyment if he were alone.

“Jean!”

Abruptly pulled out of his thoughts, Jean turned around to look at the sudden intruder. The face of the female scientist glowed happily while she walked towards him.
A nostalgic smile hushed over the Tentaspy's face.
A part of his mind was still lingering in the past, and at once he remembered his surprise when he saw her for the first time. In fact, she was one of the first people he had seen when he had woken up. Too occupied with his own drastic changes, he hadn't spent much time thinking about her at that time.

Her voice had calmed him down when the fever had shaken him. She was always the first one by his bedside when the pain was so bad that he wanted someone to end his misery.
Only when he had heard for the first time how the young woman had been called 'doctor', was he taken by surprise. He had never questioned her position until then, a woman in this environment had to be a nurse. True, he had been forced to face far more crucial revelations.

However, a woman as a doctor, even more so – as a scientist in a top secret project that revolutionized anything humanity had ever thought possible, was surprisingly difficult for him to accept at first. Often enough he had unintentionally treated her like a nurse. He hadn't wanted to deny her proper respect - the idea to see a woman in a profession like this was simply too new to him. Even if he hadn't remembered anything of his own life, the rules of the society he had grown up with had still been present in his mind. By those rules, women had been teachers, nurses or wives. Everything else had simply been a male domain.

She had never been offended by his insolent behavior. Unimpressed by his skepticism, she had done her job with the same elaborateness as her male colleagues. Soon, Jean had forgotten about his prejudices and regarded her with the respect she deserved; the question of male or female had ceased to matter.

He didn't know how things had developed outside this small world, if a female doctor or scientist was still a sensation or not. Down here, it was as normal as humans whose lower half had been replaced by tentacles.

His thoughts focused on the woman who stood in front of him today.
Her lab-coat was as white and dainty as it had been the first day he had seen her and she still wore her long hair in a tight bun. The only difference was that the once dark brown hair had turned gray. Her youth had passed but even though she was far over 60, her beauty hadn't faded, only changed. She was still the same charming and interesting lady. Whenever her features were free from the seriousness that came with her work and she was at ease, even age couldn't take away the loveliness and the still youthful sparkle in her eyes.

Right now, her eyes showed just that cheerful sparkle and Jean could tell at once that she was in a delighted mood. He smiled back at her, revealing his teeth without shyness. This woman had known him for almost 40 years and had been by his side from the first day. There had been times he had been more afraid of his own smile than she was.

“Madmoiselle?” he greeted her politely. As he was still leaning against the edge of the pool, his bow was only implied. She laughed heartily.

“Jean Renouard – even after all these years you are still the same accomplished charmer!”
He enjoyed the cheerful sound of her words. It was a rare to hear genuine and carefree laughter down here. Everyone was always serious and focused.

Victoria Fletcher. Among the normal humans, the only one he called a friend. Her skills and knowledge still impressed him, but everyone of the scientists was well educated. What he really cherished was her kindness. When one of the others had only given him another injection and left without another word, she would have sat down and talked to him. Even when he was too weak and sick to answer she had been there. Her gentle voice had distracted him more than one night from his pains and fears. When everybody else ignored his questions, she would answer them. Well, more than once she had refrained from giving him straight answers, but at least she would listen to him and try to calm his worries.
Victoria was the only one who treated him and the others of his kind with the same respect he had for her. Most of her co-workers preferred to ignore that in their minds, they were no different from any other human being. Only Victoria didn't think like them. For her, Jean was as much of a co-worker as those of her profession.
She had asked for his assistance after Louis and his siblings had been born and not died within the first hours of their life. Together with her, he had cared for them, as overwhelmed with relief and awe when they survived the first night.

Her now wrinkled cheeks were covered with the same excited blush they had been that night and as so often lately, he felt sad when he looked at her. The day when she had to retire was coming closer. Bitterly, he remembered how she had laughed at him when he wanted to urge her to do with her cells whatever they had done to him to slow down aging. Despite all the decades of research they still hadn't found the answer to what had influenced the aging processes exactly.
As she seemed to grow older every day in front of his eyes, he became more aware than ever how different he now was from the humans. She would be the first of many to follow who would live a complete life and leave him behind.
He had never openly told anyone how relieved he had been when he realized that the children stopped aging at the normal pace as well. They would still be around even when everyone he had known was replaced by strangers.
This, however, didn't comfort him much when he thought of the inevitable loss of his one true friend among the humans. Yes, she had grown old and sometimes, her once so skillful hands trembled. It was hard, but he had to accept the fact that she wouldn't be around him for very much longer anymore. Inwardly, he sighed – he was lucky that he had never fallen for her. He didn't even want to imagine how it would have felt to be forced to let a beloved one grow old by his side and die while he stayed the same as he had been when they had first met.

Fortunately, he wasn't the only one of his kind, and even more fortunate, it hadn't been difficult at all to see one of them grow up into someone very special to him.

“Are you expecting someone?” the elderly woman asked when the smile on his face became softer. She sat down at the table close to the basin and stretched her legs. Lately, her joints troubled her more than usual.

“I hoped to see Louis today,” he admitted frankly. He climbed out of the water and sat down on the floor, the tentacles still in the water. Straightening his back and hoping that this more dignified and proud pose would belie the dark thoughts he had only a moment ago. When he saw the change in her face, his shoulders dropped.

“Oh, Louis... I'm afraid he won't be able to join us anytime soon.”
Her frown and the tone of her voice already answered his next question, but he asked anyway.

“Is it that bad today?” He sighed when she nodded. So it was one of those days.
“I'm sorry, Jean,” she apologized, but he shook his head.

“There is no need to apologize, my dear Victoria. This is not you fault.”
Despite his disappointment and worry, he wasn't surprised. This wasn't the first time he and Victoria had a conversation like this.

The first, four surviving babies hadn't been strong. All of them were albinos and every one had been born with an incurable defect. The first one was only fifteen when he died. His aliment had been an immunodeficiency. He had lacked the physical strength the former humans and later children had and through his short life, he had been more sick than healthy.

Louis suffered from a cardiac insufficiency.
Otherwise, his body had what it took to develop strong muscles and lungs. He would have been a perfect creation for the scientists, but his weak heart didn't give him the endurance to develop his strength. He was too quickly exhausted by too much physical strain. Even too much excitement was dangerous for him.

Throughout the younger tenta's childhood Jean had been worried, and it hadn't become easier when his feelings for him had changed. It still enraged him when he thought about the way the sick tentas were treated by the humans. Some of them seemed to take it as a personal affront that the state of the young ones didn't match their calculations. Now they had to take care of them and keep them alive if they didn't want more loss of data, a circumstance they accepted as punishment for their failure.

The arrogance and coldheartedness towards the babies, and later young men and woman, was unbearable to watch. Jean knew, however, that there was nothing he could do to change that. The few times he tried to intervene, he was bluntly told that the alternative would be to let them die and simply start over. After all, they had the data they needed to avoid making the same mistakes.

That was what his kind and his lover were to them – mistakes. Because they were sick. When the first one had died, his body had disappeared behind the same door as the former humans who hadn't survived the surgery. Where the remains of his body had gone after they had drained him of the last bit of information they could find, Jean didn't want to think about. He knew that there hadn't been a funeral.

Victoria was the only one who cared. She cried when the youth she had raised died as if he had been one of her own. To her, they weren't only numbers. To her co-workers, Jean was number 03 – short for 'test subject number 03'. The young man whose health worried him so much right now was Subject 10, the son of Subject 4. Only Victoria acknowledged that they were more than expensive, time-consuming but replaceable tools. She called them by their names.

“I am glad to have you, my dear.” He looked up at her with a gentle smile. “Without you, who would care for him? I mean, really care?”

She didn't miss the hint of bitterness and knew at once where it came from. She, too, dreaded the day when she had not only to leave her work, but also her friends behind. But she was a practical soul and so she shoved the worries away until the day would come. Musing about it while she was still here wouldn't help anyone, and there was a lot more for her to do than wasting precious time on melancholic thoughts.

“Melissa doesn't feel very well today either,” she changed the subject. “Her own condition is steady though. They seem to feel when one of them suffers. A phenomenon often observed with multiples.”

“Yes, I think you are right.” Jean thought of the day Louis' brother had died. The three remaining siblings' conditions had worsened and for a few days, Jean and Victoria had feared they would lose them as well.

“Enough with the sad news!” Vigorously, she stood up and her wide smile returned. “I didn't come to you to dwell on depressing thoughts after all! Mr. Renouard: the babies hatched today!” she announced happily.
Jean's face brightened. Victoria never tried to hide her excitement – when she beamed at him like this, it meant that everything had went wonderfully.

“Really? Today? Was it already time?”

“We were surprised as well, but the little ones are perfectly healthy. They obviously couldn't await to add some color to our small, gray world.” The way she winked at him while she spoke she reminded him more of a proud grandmother than a results-oriented scientist. He loved her for that, but it also hinted again at her age.

“They are so beautiful! You have to come and look at them. So colorful and cute. See, one has already bitten me!” She laughed as she raised her hand. A big band-aid was wrapped around her index finger. “They are really energetic, all five of them. Really, such lovely little darlings.”

“Madmoiselle Fletcher, you are too careless!” he scolded her good-naturedly, but her excitement was contagiously. His dark mood had completely vanished.

“And while this is true, my dear, I was unable to resist. They are too adorable. For them, I'm ready to take the pain into account.”
“I cannot blame the little ones. You are a delicious breakfast, my dear Madmoiselle.”

“Oh my, look at you, making fun of an old spinster!” She still laughed and her cheeks blushed as they used to when she was young.

“Age doesn't define the making of a lovely lady, especially not in your case, my dear Victoria,” he replied with an affectionate smile and let himself glide back into the water. “If you do not mind I will stop by soon to greet the little wonders and convince myself of how lovely they are.” Both of them knew that he didn't doubt her words for any second.

“By all means. I'd be disappointed if you didn't.”

*

Victoria had left soon and Jean stared at the closed door a little while longer, with a smile on his face. A chat with his old friend had been just what he needed. She simply had a way to cheer those around her up and as usual, she hadn't failed to distract him from his gloomy thoughts.

Visiting the newborns was something he had been looking forward to, and to hear that they had already hatched and were fit and well was a pleasant surprise.
However, what she had told him about Louis worried him. He was always worried when the young man had one of his bad days. For a moment he considered paying him a visit first to see if he was all right, but suddenly, Victoria's frowning face appeared in his mind. More than once in the past she had shoved him out of the infirmary, rigorously scolding him that fussing and fawning on Louis would do more harm than good.

'Fussing and fawning! Pah! The insolence of it!' In spite of himself, he grinned. Of course he had protested against such a ridiculous assumption, but as usual, Victoria had been right. In his worry about his lover he tended to get carried away. It really didn't help Louis to get enough rest while treated properly when he, Jean, scurried around the doctors and had to be calmed down more than the patient.

He dived under and left the basin through one of the channels that connected this room with the others. Despite the rough treatment they often had to endure, they received the best medical care possible, Jean was aware of that. Louis was in good hands – the best possible - and if it had been really serious, Victoria would have told him. So he decided it was better for Louis' recovery and for his own mood to follow the elderly scientist to the nursery.

Within the laboratories, they could move around freely, except for a very few rooms. Considering what they were and that, in the opinion of most humans working here, Jean and the others were nothing more than test objects, they enjoyed much freedom.
They weren't confined, they didn't have to ask or to tell anybody were they wanted to go, as long as they kept to their schedules. Jean sometimes wondered if the scientists were aware of the strength of the healthy, fully grown tentas. Then again, he would have been astonished if they didn't. After all, what did they have to fear? Yes, Jean could kill them; yes, he could pay them back for every rude insult and the lack of respect. They wanted to see him and the others as animals? They would have brought it upon themselves.

But without those humans, they wouldn't have a home. Jean didn't remember much from living in the outside world. Those born here only knew about it from books and stories. For them, there was no other home, and even if they left and found another place to stay – who would care for the sick ones? Sometimes, Jean would be overfond of strangling some of the men and women, yet he had to be grateful that they cared for them; without them, Louis would have died a long time ago. The youth's survival was a close shave often enough as it was.

He snorted at his own thoughts – again, he was caught up in his worries. Lately, his mood too easily drifted into a depressive state, which was something that annoyed him. The life here wasn't too bad, and Louis would be fine, he would see him later. For now, the bunch of tots would have to cheer him up.

They did so the very second he came up to the surface again. He was greeted by a mix of adorable hisses and rude curses. The source of the unmannerly exclamations rushed past him while Jean climbed out of the water.

“Mais Monsieur, watch your language, s'il vous plaîtes! There are children present!” Jean chided with pretended consternation that earned him a despising glare from the young scientist. The man opened his mouth and was about to retort, but changed his mind. With a calmer expression, he searched the closest first aid box he could find and began to clean and wrap up his bleeding hand.

“They are over there, Subject 3,” he told Jean curtly and pointed with his hands at the large glass box at the other end of the room. Jean nodded politely. Of course they were over there. After all, it was he who had watched the first newborns in this very room a long time before this ignorant and smug oaf had been born.

“Fletcher, it's 3!” the scientist called for his co-worker in one of the side rooms. Jean chose to ignore this impudent upstart and focused his attention on the the glass box. His mocking grin changed into a soft smile.

Seemingly countless tentacles bustled skittishly around, tiny hands grabbed and pulled at them, not caring if they clawed their owns or those of their siblings. He chuckled at the little hisses and snarls – the instinctive aggressiveness was so adorably unimpressive and harmless.

Yes, they were really – cute!
Simple as it was, 'cute' described them perfectly.

The colors shone vibrantly in the cold, clinical light. Each of the five babies was of another color – yellow, bright red, blue, green and purple. Jean looked at the living rainbow with regret. In a few years, the colors would change, and they would either be of a brownish red or a grayish blue. Only the babies were this colorful, and nobody knew why. He couldn't think of any reason why nature would give those tiny creatures such a striking appearance when they were still weak and helpless.
However, they weren't actually a creation of nature in the first place. After all, they were nothing but mutants, the proof that humans could create whatever they wanted, if it was reasonable or not. Here, neither nature nor a God decided upon life or death. The beginning and the end of their existence lay in the hands of the scientists.

In a natural habitat, these darling little creatures wouldn't have a chance to survive – let alone the fact that they wouldn't have been born at all.

He smirked wryly when he remembered another conversation with Victoria from many years ago. The day when she had explained to him in detail about the changes of his body.

All of the changes.
“You didn't just tell me that I could become... pregnant?!” Even saying the word out loud in this context had been difficult, the whole idea had been too grotesque. Victoria had smiled at him, her voice half amused, half apologetic.

“Well, Mister Renouard, the distinction between male and female concerns basically the optical appearance of the human parts, not the reproductive organs. So, if the transformation of your body was a complete success, as we assume, theoretically...”

“Mon Dieu!” he had groaned before she had the chance to give him more detailed information. His dismay showed clearly in his short exclamation, and she had hurried to calm him down.

“Don't worry, my dear, we would never force you to.” Her amusement at his horrified face had been as obvious as his relief at her words.

Back then, it had already been past belief for him that a woman worked in a profession that usually belonged to men. And now a men should do the work of a woman and bear children?! Who had they thought he was?! Who had been crazy? Them? He, himself? The world in general?

Well, until today he had had a lot of time to re-evaluate many of his ideas. Men, woman – it didn't matter anymore when it came to skill, friendship or love. What hadn't changed was his determination not to become pregnant and lay eggs.

Nevertheless he loved watching the little ones. Compared to human infants they were a lot smaller. Physically, they were further developed, the human half looked already like a minimized version of a maybe five years old child. Their behavior, however, reminded him more of kittens or puppies.

They had noticed him and looked up curiously. He chuckled when the red one hissed at him, showing his tiny, pointy teeth. So cute.
They might not have been his own children, but it was impossible for him not to adore them. They were such helpless, innocent things, and even if they weren't his own, they were of his own kind.

Carefully, he let one of his tentacles slide into the terrarium and caressed their heads gently. At once they stopped hissing and snuggled against the dark blue limb. Like any baby – human or not – they sensed he meant well. A wicked pride filled him when he remembered that those little darlings had bitten that boorish dilettante.

“I wish they were always so tame,” a female voice laughed behind him. He didn't have to look up to see that Victoria had joined him. He had been so entranced by the newborns that he hadn't heard her coming closer despite the vigorous steps of her flat heels on the tiled floor.

“They only protect themselves. It will die away soon. See, with a little bit of sensitivity it already does!” he protested on behalf of the babies who peacefully huddled against the end his big tentacle. The green one already nodded off.

“Yes, when you come to cuddle. Try to feed five greedy, hungry mouths that don't care if they gobble down food or a finger, and we'll talk again. You are doing it again, Jean!” Laughingly, she raised her right hand with the bandaged finger.

A splashing sound coming from the other end of the room caught their attention. They stopped their friendly banter and turned around. Jean smiled.



- to be continued -
Part 2: [link]

The back-story of BlastedKing's Tentaspy Jean.

A while ago, BK showed me the script of Jean's story and I fell in love with it. More so, I would have killed myself for the permission to write the full story one day. Luckily, I was allowed to write it and to stay alive. I swear, if she wrote a page about cleaning the bathroom it would still trigger enough inspiration for 10 pages, she's amazing :woohoo:

Special thanks to JG, our Beta, who works miracles in a really short time ^^;

Click here to see and fave the beautiful cover in fullsize.

:iconblastedking: => characters, story idea & basic script and coverart (or in short: inspiration)
:iconredheadligeia: => story
:iconjupiter-green: => beta
© 2012 - 2024 RedHeadLigeia
Comments12
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Wow. crazy stuff. But i imagine little tentababys SOOO CUTE! :heart: ^^