It crept in the same manner of slow precision as its predecessors. This one moved directly down the middle of the deck. It slithered around the base of the center mast and between her pinned legs. Slowly, methodically, it slipped up and over her vulva. The cups gently suckled, pulling, rhythmically releasing to inch its girth up until it rested between her tits.Chest heaving, Val remained frozen.As if a switch was suddenly flipped, all three tentacles released their grip simultaneously. A sensation, unlike any Valerie could fathom. Nickel-sized bullseyes marked her skin where it had been holding. It hovered, each tip flicking like a cat’s tail, once again waiting.She could have slid back. She could have escaped, scrambled for the gun, or the flares, or both. But the only motion Valerie made at that moment was to once again run her fingers over its skin.She explored. Touching its tip, pressing to feel its rigidity, like pushing into a flexed muscle. Her fingers curled around to hold. That was why I kept a television on in her bedroom so that she'd have something to watch and listen to when I wasn't there to talk to her. And it was why I still held out hope that modern medicine would eventually find a way to bring her back to me.Other, more miraculous, recoveries had taken place, some from people who'd remained in a persistent vegetative state well beyond ten years. If it could happen to them, it could happen to Mom. She'd already had one very BIG miracle happen in her favor: her last round of chemo had apparently put her cancer into remission, and the tumors hadn't come back. Nature, God, and the Universe wouldn't have saved her from the cancer only to let her linger like this forever. I wasn't giving up.Just like every morning, I tenderly cradled her body and adjusted her so that she wouldn't develop pressure sores. Her hair had grown back over the last two and a half years, and I combed it and styled it nicely with a cute barrette. I checked all her monitors.
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