Page 37 of Tasty Tentacles

But something is still nagging…I missed something in our conversation, I know I did. I go back through the messages and find it. He mentioned his procedure, probably the one with Hideo.

“Hidie, what did he mean by after the procedure?” Now I’m getting worried again, after all, he did go to my favorite doctor for some reason.

“Um, I think that’s something he’ll need to share when he’s ready.”

I think for a minute, and I can’t imagine anything that needs cosmetic work. The man is a god. But then it comes to me in a flash, and I know. The masks, the shyness, the hiding in the shadows…he doesn’t see himself that way.

“He wants to remove them,” I say in horror. I can’t believe I’m saying it, much less that he’s considering it. Planning it with my husband! “He can’t! He just can’t!” Now the tears really come.

“Come here, sweets,” Hideo says, gathering me and stroking my hair. I can’t hold it back. It can’t be true. What could force him to want to do this? He’s perfect just the way he is.

“Why?” I ask, all I can manage without completely falling to pieces.

“He’s been through a lot of crap in his life, and he thinks this will make things easier.”

“You can’t do it,” I say. It’s so obvious, so clear. “You can’t let him.”

“It’s his decision…but in my heart, I agree.”

“Counseling,” I say, grasping for anything that could help. “He needs to talk to someone first. Make sure.”

“That’s part of his treatment plan. I insisted.”

Then another thought hits me. Maybe he needs to do this. “Is it dysphoria? Like your trans clients?”

“I don’t think so. From everything I’ve seen, he’s comfortable with his gender, and his issues with his tentacula are more with how he looks and how other people react to him, not the core of his identity.”

Then my thoughts turn darker. “Does he hate himself? Hate his amazing tentacles? It sure didn’t seem like it tonight.”

“I haven’t seen any evidence of that,” he says, stroking his hand over my chest, and it helps. I’m feeling more rational. “As you’ve seen, when he’s on his own or with friends, he’s very comfortable with his tentacles. I think he’s mostly worried about what other people think, not what he thinks about himself. Our counselor will know more.”

“It’s pure discrimination!” I say, getting angry. “We can’t let the haters force him to do something he’ll regret.” I’ve had small tastes of this in my life, with my bearish waistline and gay lifestyle. There are always haters, everywhere, but I’m certain Orion has faced far worse.

“I agree. I don’t want to see him lose his great gift. But again, it’s his decision.”

“I know what I need to do! I can help him make that decision…help him understand what he’ll lose and how much he has to gain.” My mind is already spinning. Some new confection tomorrow, to challenge his tentacle taste buds. And in bed, we need to put those tentacles through their paces. They ain’t seen nothing yet.

Hideo is giving me a knowing look, like he’s thinking the same thoughts, and suddenly, I understand everything.

“That’s why you invited him over for Christmas Eve!” I gush. I have to do it. I jump on top of my hubby and cover him with kisses. “I love you so much, my kind and talented Doctor Genji.”

I’m determined to create a dessert that will prove to Orion he can’t do it. Something so delectable, so perfectly tailored to a tentacled giant, that he can’t resist. I get to the bakery with an overall concept in mind: chocolate decadence. It’s going to build from there into something unstoppable.

Hidie warned me not to push Orion, not to put him on the spot, but he needn’t have worried. I can control my impulses when I need to. I can’t make his decision for him, but I certainly can help him explore the options.

“You’re a man on a mission!” Camila says, catching me as I pipe out the choux pastry for my new creation. I’ve set a lofty goal: he’s always had a soft spot for our chocolate eclairs, so I’m making a new one with so many types of chocolate that even my talented GingerGiant won’t be able to tease them apart. But then again, he’s never failed me yet.

“Sure thing,” I say. “Ever-so-Chocolate Eclairs.”

I dust on the cocoa powder and move on to the craquelin. These need to get into the oven soon, or they won’t be finished in time.

“You’ve been talking about doing those for years! Does this have something to do with that tall redhead?”

“Maybe,” I say, pretending to be coy. She knows me well after all these years, so there’s no use trying to keep anything secret.

“Good for you. He seems like a sweet man.”

“You have no idea,” I say under my breath, then I check in with her. “Is everything okay out front?”