Page 34 of The Planetary Systems Preservation Committee Decided We Needed a Nanny

“I just hate this for you, but also it tickles me so much, too,” I apologize, getting the giggles back under control. “I love you, but you need a shower and a soak in the hot tub, and I will make you a nice charcuterie to go with your soak and open a fresh bottle for you.” I feel like she deserves some pampering after finding out she could kill someone with her blood.

Bee gives me a real smile. “Yeah. Do that. I deserve some fancy cheese and artichoke hearts,” she agrees, kicking off her shoes. She walks herself to my bathroom, and I turn to Lora, who’s been suspiciously silent.

“What aren’t you saying?” I ask after Bee shuts herself in the bathroom.

“I hope her supervisor explained that every person from my species will be allergic to her blood, not just the one who discovered the allergy. We all share the same immune responses,” he rattles thoughtfully.

“I’m sure they will let her know one way or another, but I can tell her if you like,” I offer. That doesn’t seem like a reason he didn’t participate in the conversation, though. “You could have told her,” I point out.

Lora rattles negatively. “I cannot breathe in the allergen expellant, and I do not have a filter mask as part of my uniform because I am not in a career that requires it. I could not speak because I was holding my breath until the particles of the expellant were filtered through the ventilation system.”

“That was a long time to hold your breath.” It might be a little concerning if aliens weren’t aliens, amiright?

“I can reduce my need for oxygenated air to only what is in my lungs for up to two Earth standard months. I will go into a hibernation of a kind after a week, and my movement is slowed after a few hours. It is a survival mechanism evolved from a time when our ancestor species would become buried in sand storms that could last for weeks.”

The more I learn about his species, the more impressed I am. Not only about their physical capabilities, but also about the sheer amount of self-knowledge they have. I doubt their scientists ever fought for recognition because their religious leaders didn’t like what they were discovering. “What must it be like to be able to study history and not have to fight with religious zealots about it?”

Lora rattles in agreement. “Your species’ religious zealotry isn’t unique in the galaxy, but it is uncommon among the species that advance to space exploration. Religion often limits a species’ cognitive development and technological advancements. The rigidity that being part of a religious system requires is valued and it is unknowingly bred for rather than the creative and whimsical nature of invention. Species that breed for creativity see themselves technologically advancing because of their pursuit of invention.”

I frown, sighing at that. “That’s sad. Humans are the worst.”

Lora squeezes me around the waist. “I disagree. You simply need a little guidance.”

Alien nannies to the rescue.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

There is absolutely nothing as gross, unromantic, and horrifying as going to the doctor to see if you’ve evolved enough for sex with your alien partner. Hands down, even when I had a full box of toys in my lap while getting my alien sex education, this is the worst thing I’ve ever done for sex.

Dr. Randy guides me to the circle of shame again, where the medical device thingy does its up and down scan and takes a sample of my blood. A picture of my internal self appears on the wall for him to study. Honestly, I can’t tell the difference. Bee could, but I’m never showing her my⁠—

Bee walks into the room through the door with a demented smile on her face. “So, how’s it looking?” she asks as I glare daggers at this nosy bitch.

Dr. Randy points to the picture on the wall. “I am surprised by the outcome of this evolution.” He turns to address me, absolutely ignoring patient confidentiality. “The nanites were programmed to change your physiology to accommodate the size of our penetrative sex organ, to strengthen some of your muscles, and to make your internal pleasure more easily stimulated, however, the nanites are also artificial intelligence with some measure of autonomy, and they have made more significant changes to your anatomy than expected.”

I have a question. I wasn’t even going to address this, but now that he’s bringing up some unexpected outcomes, I think maybe I should talk to my doctor about the weirdness that has been happening for the last week or so. “Bee. I will very literally kill you if you ever repeat what I am about to say to anyone outside of this room. If I so much as suspect Lora knows you know, I will end you,” I threaten, almost as serious as I was when we were ten and took a blood oath to always be best friends.

Bee cackles, but she puts up one hand and places the other on her heart. “I swear on my nursing degree that I won’t make a peep about this.”

I give her one more glare and turn to address my actual doctor. “So, does this have anything to do with the, uh, slimy defecate I’ve been seeing in my toilet recently?”

I know, I know. I shouldn’t be afraid to talk to doctors about poop, but c’mon. It’s so gross, and embarrassing, and if I’m not bleeding, not having constant diarrhea, and not experiencing anything debilitating, why would I ever talk to anyone about it ever? Not even Bee, and I love her more than anyone. The only time I’m ever going to talk about poop is if there is a problem, and slime does not constitute a problem. I’ve expelled a shit ton of lube into the toilet before, and this is like that, except I haven’t used that much lube recently.

“Ah, yes. That would be a side effect of this physiological change. The nanites triggered the growth of a birthing canal. Your colon collapses during heightened arousal and the canal swells. Your anus relaxes and opens up with the swelling, and that canal is lined with mucous membrane, so it will produce natural lubricant for penetration. The leukorrhea also functions as a means of keeping the canal clean and protects it from infection by expelling foreign bacteria. The nanites knew you did not want a womb, so your canal ends with no womb for gestation. It is an interesting evolution. I may study the history of human genetics. Somewhere in your evolution you evolved into mostly binary sexual presentations, but the capacity for non-binary sexes is abundant enough to have a blueprint for male presenting gestation.”

“That is the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard,” Bee announces in her I-want-to-study-this tone.

“It’s something,” I confirm a little weirded out by my new anatomy. I knew it was going to happen, but now I might be freaking out. Ignore the heart monitor telling me I’m in tachycardia range. “Just so I’m clear, the nanites are done making changes to my body, correct?”

Dr. Randy’s rattle is the verbal equivalent of teeter-tottering a hand back and forth. “They are finished with the current anatomical changes, but they will remain active for the duration of your life, maintaining your health within the constraints of their programming. They are a part of the biological symbiotic environment of your body now.”

“Pretty much every vaccine we give includes these nanites and they become a part of the body’s function, enhancing without replacing all parts of the internal systems,” Bee explains. “It’s like your gut is full of good bacteria, and now it also has nanites keeping your bacteria healthy. Your immune system knows how to protect you against chicken pox, and now the nanites can teach it how to recognize cancer. It’s all beneficial.”

“And I have a birthing canal, too,” I remind myself. I take a deep breath and let it all go. Aliens be doing alien shit. I be doing Lora. “So I’m good for getting railed by my alien lover?” I confirm, putting it as crassly as possible for Bee’s benefit.

Dr. Randy makes a querying rattle, holds for a beat, then rattles positively. “Yes. You may now engage in penetrative sex with LoveOrderRenewalArtifice.”

“Excellent. Thank you for the check up. I hope not to see you in a professional capacity for a while,” I say, jumping off the tall table, pointing at Bee, and warning her, “Not a word.”