Rick is fighting the good fight—rebelling against the aliens who’ve invaded Earth. But when his mission goes awry, he finds himself captive to the very tentacled monster he’d planned to assassinate.

Most Supreme Specimen, as the alien insists on being called, claims he’s caring for Rick, that the invasive probing he regularly subjects Rick to is intended to ensure his good health, both mentally and physically, but Rick isn’t buying it. The aliens are evil, especially this one, and escape is necessary.

Right after this next probing…

Content warning: contains instances of dubious consent and light medical kink


He’d just finished emptying his bowels into the luxury of a flushing toilet and was rinsing off his hands in the soap-less sink when the ambassador came in without so much as knocking. Rick would have complained about the intrusion on his privacy but the ambassador was holding a package of soap in one twisted tentacle and what looked to be a toothbrush with a tube of honest-to-God Crest in another.

“Thank you. That’s exactly what I was looking for.”

“I apologize for not understanding how best to care for you.”

“I don’t need to be ‘cared for.’ I just need a fucking shower. And this,” he said, reaching for the toothbrush.

“I have now watched the video Doctor Good Person sent. We will proceed immediately.”

“We?” Rick asked, but the moment he opened his mouth, the ambassador shoved a toothbrush into it. “Wha—?”


He wanted to ask what the hell the ambassador thought he was doing, but has teeth were being so vigorously brushed he couldn’t get the words out. Trying to twist away only resulted in the ambassador wrapping a pair of tentacles around his body to hold him still. He was bound against the broad, firm chest by two gentle iron bands while Gwalizche assaulted his mouth with a toothbrush all the way down to the tonsils.

“My teeth,” Rick tried to say through a mouth of foam, to explain that toothbrushing didn’t typically involve the throat, but he was choking too vigorously to be comprehensible.

A dentist had once told him to spend two full minutes brushing his teeth, but he’d never managed to do it. Doctor Good Person’s video must have given the same advice because the forced hygiene continued until he felt so dizzy from lack of air that only the ambassador’s grasp was keeping him upright.

The toothbrush finally retreated. Rick gulped in a big breath, only to have his mouth invaded again, this time by a bare tentacle, which the ambassador ran across his gums and tongue and a good way down his throat.

“I believe your mouth is in order,” the ambassador said, his abdomen rumbling against Rick’s backside. “Now to clean the rest of you.”

The ambassador lifted him off the ground and carried him to the shower.

“I can do this myself,” Rick protested, though he was still feeling a little woozy from all that toothbrushing.

“It’s my responsibility to ensure you’re properly cared for,” the ambassador said as he methodically stripped Rick’s clothes from him.

Rick tried to prevent it, but his two arms were hopeless against a flurry of tentacles, and he soon found himself naked and occupying the shower stall with a big blob of yellow-speckled green.

“Ack,” Rick shrieked at his first look at the ambassador in Kathwacki form.

The transformation had happened so fast he hadn’t even been aware of it, but gone were the clothes, the handsome human features, the broad chest. What remained was nothing except a swirling mass of tentacles plying multiple bars of soap to scrub Rick from top to bottom and back again.