Things changed after that conversation… in a positive way. Or rather, I changed. Szaro continued to be his loving, caring, and supportive self. I just dropped any walls I still kept erected between us.
While we lay together, locked on the floor, I did a lot of introspection and soul-searching. I realized just how much I’d been keeping him at arm’s length. Sure, I went hunting with them, shared his bed, and played house with him, but I never really immersed myself in the Ordosian life nor fully opened myself to him or truly let him in.
It had been a self-defense mechanism to leave me a way out. He was too easy to fall in love with, and the thought of uprooting myself to permanently settle on a planet deemed primitive in many respects was terrifying. But it was the fear of change, of the unknown that had been holding me back. In the end, the true question was whether I was happy here, and the answer was a resounding yes. But more importantly, I didn’t think a world or a male existed who could make me happier than I had been here so far.
That acknowledgement lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. Szaro was right, in my heart, I already knew that I would stay here with him. I just needed my ‘human time’ to be sure I wasn’t rushing in.
Conveying this news to my parents didn’t go as smoothly. Because of the great distance and the basic technology of the Ordosians, a special relay had to be temporarily set up to allow direct communication. A couple of days after the pregnancy talk with Szaro, I had my usual monthly call with my parents. Naturally, they’d been informed of my situation, and had tried—and failed—to leverage all of their contacts in high places to get me out of Trangor.
Five days later, Szaro’s old skin fell off—in one single piece—at long last. It was quite impressive. The look on his face was priceless. You’d think he was having an orgasm right there and then. He looked bigger, taller, and definitely more stunning as he strutted about in his shiny new skin. But the shadow of my parents’ disapproval dampened the pleasure of witnessing my husband’s relief.
In the following weeks, I received a barrage of messages from my parents raising the million reasons why it didn’t make sense for me to stay here and all the dangers that involved. I easily countered the majority of their arguments, demonstrating that the same would be true pretty much anywhere else I decided to settle that wasn’t a human colony. That said, one of their arguments did concern me.
In the second week of my arrival on Trangor, I’d received the medical pod I’d ordered. To my shock and delight, the UPO—at the request of Kayog—had it upgraded free of charge to the most advanced model available on the market. Shaped like a stasis chamber, the machine allowed me to self-diagnose, suggested and applied treatments, and could perform some fairly advanced surgeries. It could even assist with child delivery. Worst case scenario, if I ended up in a critical state where it couldn’t treat me, the pod would put me in stasis and send a distress signal to my designated emergency contact so that they could come and assist me.
That, and the fact that the Ordosian healer, Teichi, had begun learning human anatomy and physiology so she could look after me should the need arise, had given me a great deal of peace of mind. But that was short-lived.
Just a few days shy of my third month on Trangor, I developed rashes along my spine and arms. I had a slight but persistent fever, frequent stomach cramps, and nausea, especially triggered by specific smells. The medical pod failed to identify the cause. I wasn’t pregnant. I wasn’t having an allergic reaction. I wasn’t poisoned or infected by any sort of virus or bacteria. And yet, the pod kept giving me the conflicting message that my body was under attack but failed to identify the cause or eliminate the “foreign” entity attacking it.
Szaro was beside himself with worry. We contacted Kayog to arrange for me to be seen by one of the traveling human doctors of the UPO. As it would require me to leave the planet for a couple of days—in direct breach of the agreement that had initially spared me from execution—it needed to be handled carefully. I doubted the Elders, or any of the other tribes, would have challenged my temporary departure under the circumstances and in light of the strong bonds I had developed with them over the past three months. But to have Szaro say he would defy the Elders and any opposition, even if that meant his banishment, to see me treated, moved me to the core.
I’d fallen hard for my Ordosian. And every day since had only confirmed what he had known all along: I’d been created for him, and he for me.
But that discussion with the Elders became a non-issue. As the trade agreements with the pharmaceutical industries of the UPO had been maintained, they sent a team every two weeks to collect what the Ordosians had saved or gathered for them. Since a pickup was scheduled on the day after tomorrow, Kayog offered to have a medical expert come to Trangor instead. The Federation base camp—which in fact belonged to the UPO—possessed a top-of-the-line medical bay in case one of the hunters or other UPO representatives got severely injured by the vicious local fauna.
We jumped on that opportunity. Szaro had trusted me to return after being treated if we had gone the first route. But he had hated the thought of not being by my side, especially since we didn’t know how long the doctors might decide to keep me once they—hopefully—figured out what was wrong with me.
Although I’d regained the use of my speeder to travel around Trangor, I shared a ride with Szaro on Dagas as I didn’t feel steady enough to control my vehicle. To my delight, we were greeted by a woman, Dr. Ahmad. I’d always felt more comfortable with female practitioners. And, in this instance, as she would strip me naked, poke and prod me in every way possible in the presence of Szaro, it certainly eliminated a great deal of potential awkwardness.
And she certainly did test the fuck out of me.
I had blood and samples of every possible type drawn from me. I was still mortified by some of the very personal questions I had to answer, from my diet and hygiene, to my medical history and detailed sex life.
Yes, dear doctor, I have gone down many times on my husband’s alien dick and swallowed. It tastes like honey with a dab of salt. Anything else you’d like to know?
Groan…
The delay in getting tangible results or even the slightest hint as to the cause of my condition was seriously starting to freak me out. When she asked to run some tests on Szaro, I nearly panicked. What the fuck was going on? Despite his obvious worry, Szaro submitted willingly. He would do whatever was needed to see me get better.
After at least four hours of this circus, the doctor met with us to go over her findings. I sat in a chair across the table from her, and Szaro settled next to me, sitting in that funky way on his tail and holding my hand.
“So, the good news is that you are not ill,” Dr. Ahmad said carefully. “You do not have a disease that needs to be treated.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. “So, it’s an allergic reaction?” I asked.
The doctor hesitated. “You could put it that way. The problem is your contraceptive implant. Your body is reacting to—rejecting really—the progestogen that it is steadily releasing into your bloodstream.”
I recoiled and stared at her in confusion. “What? That doesn’t make sense,” I argued. “I’ve been using this implant for years without any problem.”
“Right,” the doctor conceded. “But that was before. ”
“What do you mean? Why do you say ‘before’ like that?” I asked.
The doctor studied my face, while chewing her bottom lip, clearly trying to find the right words to drop the bombshell I knew was incoming. She cast a glance at Szaro, who was staring intently at her, then seemed to make a decision.
“What you assumed to be rashes on your body are in fact mutations,” Dr. Ahmad said.
“WHAT?!” I exclaimed.
“What kind of mutations?” Szaro hissed.
“Relax, both of you,” Dr. Ahmad said in a soft voice, raising her palms in an appeasing gesture. “It is nothing bad. You’re not turning into some kind of monster. You’re adapting.”
“Adapting to what?” I asked, on the verge of panic.
“To your husband.”
I froze, my brain tilting for a moment. Then I turned to Szaro, who stared at me with the same stunned expression.
“We know very little about Ordosians, which is why I ran some tests on Mr. Kota,” Dr. Ahmad explained. “Initially, I thought you were having an allergic or toxic reaction to mating with your husband. While coupling between you is obviously possible, the Ordosian and human reproductive systems are not compatible. Sure enough, all of your tests showed a large presence of alien DNA and hormones in your system.”
“I’m hurting my mate?” Szaro asked with such pain in his voice and such a crestfallen expression that it broke my heart.
“No, Mr. Kota. Not exactly,” Dr. Ahmad said in a gentle voice. “Contrary to what I assumed, your DNA and hormones aren’t acting like a foreign element, or virus or bacteria. They have have become an inherent part of you, Mrs. Bello. The lining of your uterus has changed—or rather it is changing. Your entire endocrine system is also changing. Your body is adapting so that you can bear an Ordosian child. And your contraceptive implant is messing with that.”
My free hand flew to my stomach as I gaped at the doctor. From the start, I’d known in my gut that Szaro and I were too different to have children, but this changed everything. I turned to look at Szaro, who was staring at my stomach with an air of wonder and longing. My throat constricted. He looked up and our gazes locked. Words weren’t necessary. His eyes told me everything about his hopes and dreams for us.
Tearing my eyes away from him, I forced myself to turn back to the doctor.
“And what about the rashes?” I asked. “You said they’re not rashes.”
The doctor cleared her throat and shifted in her chair, looking at me sheepishly. “You should develop some scales there.”
“I’m going to be covered in scales?!”
“NO! No, no. Not at all. Or rather, there’s really no reason to think so,” Dr. Ahmad amended. “These changes are purely cosmetic and should be constrained to the spots where you currently have the redness that you assumed to be rashes. So, around your nape and down your spine, and on the outer side from the curve of your shoulders to your forearm. If they bother you, I believe they could be surgically removed, but I can’t guarantee they wouldn’t come back.”
“Wow, okay,” I said, feeling overwhelmed.
“Can this be reversed?” Szaro asked.
I felt gut-punched upon hearing those words. I turned to look at him disbelievingly. Why the fuck would he ask something like that? Had he changed his mind? Now that this had become a reality, was he reconsidering wanting children with me?
“Yes, it can be,” Dr. Ahmad said carefully. “It’s borderline, but there is still time… as long as we begin treatment immediately or in the next couple of days. However, that would mean no more fluid exchange between the two of you, mainly of semen and hormone, whether through penetration or orally. So, you could remain active, but use condoms. Mrs. Bello would also need to undergo hormonal treatment.”
I felt faint.
“Thank you, Dr. Ahmad,” I said, still staring at Szaro, who was holding my gaze unwaveringly. “Can you give us a moment, please?”
“Yes, of course,” the doctor replied.
She jumped to her feet and exited the room as if she couldn’t get out fast enough. I dropped whatever pretense of control I still possessed and let my face show how hurt I felt right now.
“Why would you ask that? You no longer want children with me?” I asked.
“I love you, Serena Bello,” Szaro said forcefully. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, with a swarm of offspring filling our dwelling. I want to carve every centimeter of our home’s entrance with the decades of memories we will forge together. I want to fill the walls of our younglings’ rest rooms with their history as they grow and thrive. I want to travel every corner of Trangor with you by my side, show you the beauty of this world and rediscover it through your eyes. And I want us to have all of this because you choose me, because you choose us and that future. Not because you are trapped by a biological and hormonal reaction.”
My chest constricted, and a wave of love washed over me.
“Do you want me to reverse this?” I asked, my eyes flicking between his.
“I want you to do what feels right for yourself,” he said firmly. “Whatever choice you make, I will support you. Your decision must not be made because you feel pressured by some arbitrary deadline or feel like your body is taking that decision away from you.”
“And what if I said I didn’t want to reverse it?”
A powerful emotion crossed Szaro’s face. He swallowed painfully, and his hand tightened around mine.
“I would ask you why not,” he whispered.
“What if I said it was because I, too, want to see you cover our dwelling’s entrance with even more carvings than your father has done for Erastra?” I asked, my eyes prickling from overwhelming emotions.
“I would respond that this makes me the happiest male in the universe,” he said, pulling me out of my chair to make me straddle him.
“What if I said it was because I’ve fallen madly in love with you, and I can’t picture myself with anyone else, since you’ve ruined me for any other male?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my forehead against his.
“I’d say I told you so,” he replied before capturing my lips in a passionate kiss.
