Isabel Adora, the woman who will grow a tail without treatment, kicks the wall of the elevator in frustration. “Don't worry about it, seriously? I was thinking about having sex with a mass murderer,” she cries out the moment before the doors to the lobby open.

  She goes back to her room to find Jacob looking at the bathroom door suspiciously.

  “What are you doing, Jacob?” She asks, hoping this morning didn't break his brain.

  “The cat wants me to keep an eye out for suspicious doors,” he says with a shrug. “I think I saw one st night when I went pee, but when I went to look this morning, it was gone.” Jacob says before plopping down on the bed.

  Izzy looks at the fancy watch on her wrist: 2 hours till she can go eat cake with Mr. Blob. She contemptes giving Jacob a quickie but dismisses the idea. ‘It’s just the toxin talking,’ she thinks.

  “Jacob, I am poisoned with a toxin that makes me overly sexual. I just got confirmation today,” Izzy says before sitting next to Jacob, putting her head on his shoulder for comfort.

  “That’s arming, Izzy. What did the doctor say about treatment?” He asks, holding her hand.

  “Ride it out till the end of the contract,” she sighs, “but I don’t know if I can keep going like this.”

  Jacob rubs her back. “It will be ok. I am not going anywhere. We can work on controlling your urges.”

  Izzy sighs and melts into Jacob. “That’s why I love you. You're practical, and you're accepting.”

  Jacob smiles. They cuddle and talk for a while longer, then Izzy turns on the TV, and they watch something brainless.

  At 5 she starts getting dressed; she puts her hair up in a cute bun and comes out of the bathroom. “What do you think?” she asks Jacob.

  “It's a cute outfit. What's the occasion?” he asks, having started examining the closet door.

  “Didn't you already examine that door?” Izzy asks,

  “No, that was the bathroom door,” he says. “But check this out.” He walks over to a section of wall and turns a knob that doesn’t look like it should be there, and a door opens to the inner hallway of the motel.

  “What?” Izzy says, “Sue told me there was a second door; no wonder we missed it.”

  “What was the occasion? You never answered.” Jacob asks,

  “Oh, the occasion,” she remembers, “I have a friend date with Dr. Blob tonight to eat cake.” She puts on a pair of 2-inch heels. “You can fend for yourself, right?”

  “Yeah, I wanted to walk around and look for that weird door anyway,” he smirks, “maybe get some game time in.”

  Izzy kisses Jacob on the lips. “Maybe we will work on some of that impulse control tonight.”

  “I would like that.” Jacob is left with a wobblyness as she leaves. The sound of her heels tapping on the concrete is the st time he will hear her tonight.

  She walks into the bar at 5:30 and sits on one of the stools. The cat slides down the bar to talk with her. “Well, if it’s not Izzy, I don’t know who you are,” he greets her.

  “First thing, Cat, I need a cake.” Izzy says

  “What kind?” he asks, wiggling his nose at her.

  “Uhh, double German chocote 6-yer cake with pecan frosting, please,” she says.

  “What’s it for? Solo indulgence? Found a new kink? Killing off the dog? Because if that's the reason you need to wait, I need him a while longer,” the Cat says with a grin.

  “No, none of that; it’s for a birthday,” she says.

  “Oh, I see. How old are you? My guess is turning 37.” He says and moves back from the bar.

  “You think you’re funny, don’t you?” She growls.

  He stays out of her reach. “Ok, it was a joke. Tell me how many birthday candles. How old is the birthday person?”

  She lets her momentary anger go and thinks about it. “Let's go with one?”

  She points to the corner. “When it's done, bring it out, please, and thank you so much.”

  “It's a pleasure, you crone.” He turns and leaves quickly.

  She sits in the booth tapping the table, thinking about the doctor visit. ‘just unreal’ She says, ‘Just let me wander around horny all the time, not caring if I make terrible decisions that will cause long-term damage.’ She taps the table ‘to my retionship with Jacob.’ She looks around the room ‘to interspecies treaties.’ She looks up at the ceiling tiles. ‘I could cause a war if I am not careful.’ She sighs, ‘And it would be his fault, not mine, right?’

  She sits at the table, and a bouquet of flowers, a wrapped gift, and a party hat roll into the room and yell out, “Hey, where is the pretty girl?”

  She looks at the pile of party supplies and ughs, “Hey, over here!” He rolls his way over and gloops onto the bench seat. He sets all the things on the table, and then two balloons pop out of his body, string and all. He ties them to the wrapped gift.

  “Good evening,” Dr. Blob says. “I have come with the traditional offerings for the cake celebration.”

  “You can also just eat cake, Dr. Blob,” she ughs.

  Somehow the blob looks upset. “I was unaware; now I feel silly.”

  She looks at the blob. He is pale green like leaves in the spring. She looks at him closer, and a pair of underwear is floating around inside him. She leans closer; the blob moves away.

  “Is there something stuck in me?” Dr. Blob asks

  “Uhh, I think it's a pair of my underwear,” she says, pointing at the formerly cum-stained underwear.

  Dr. Blob extends an eyestalk and looks into himself. “Well, that’s embarrassing,” he wibbles and pushes them to the surface. They nd on the table looking perfectly clean. “I had no idea,” he jiggles.

  She grabs them frantically and tries to put them in her pocket. However, because of silly fashion trends, there is nowhere to put them. She tries to discreetly hide them in a cup of her bra, but it makes her breasts look lopsided.

  She pulls it out and tucks it in her underwear. She looks down, and it looks like she has a penis. “For fuck’s sake.”

  “You appear to be in distress.” Dr. Blob comments.

  “I wasn't expecting to have to hide underwear; I have no pockets to put them in.” She looks at the blob, eyes furrowed.

  “Should we hide them in my blob again?” He offers

  “No, it’s fine,” she says, the image of the panties going back into the blob like the piece of pineapple in Izzy’s mother’s Jell-O.

  She pulls them out again and folds them neatly before putting them back, the bump significantly reduced.

  Izzy sits back, able to rex now. “What would you like to talk about, Dr. Blob?”

  “Tell me about gas stations! Are they really as romantic as television makes it seem?” he questions.

  “Uh, they can be the one down the road is less romantic and more,” she nods her head back and forth looking for the word “staged.”

  “We should visit there sometime. I hear it has many earth artifacts for sale.” He wibbles with delight.

  “Yeah, I guess, but if you want great artifacts, you need to go to a mall,” she suggests.

  “Yes, let’s go right after cake.” He bounces off the seat and nds with a plop.

  “Do you have malls?” Izzy asks, and she looks over and sees the fox-eared waitress; she fgs them over.

  “I need a drink,” she says to the women. “Do you have a cheap red wine? Bring the bottle, please. We are going to drink like college students and eat cake! We are ready for cake whenever the cat is.”

  “Right away,” she says and heads to the bar.

  “Yes, we have malls. There is actually an entire pnet devoted to shopping. The wars that happen there are horrific, but the fierce competition keeps the prices down.” Dr. Blob wabbles, “I hope to one day go to it, but tell me about drinking in college.”

  The fox-eared girl arrives with a bottle and two gsses. She opens it and pours it and says, “I will go get your cake now.”

  “Thank you,” they say in unison. Izzy picks up her gss and sips the wine.

  “When I was there for library sciences, you would expect us to be very reserved, but that never really happened. That's how I met Jacob.” She says

  “And you would drink this fermented grape juice?” Dr. Blob pours a little on his head, and it is pulled inside, where he swirls it around and tastes it and tears it apart with various acids and bases, analyzing its composition.

  “Yeah, we would go to the upper croft, a part of the library closed off to guests and basically anyone who isn't part of the program.” She says, thinking back to it.

  “He found us one night when he was on an unreted job fixing something at the university—some IT-reted project. I'm really not sure what his job title was back then, but he came in and saw 10 of us drunk and ughed about it. He had a gss with us and left me his number.” She comfortably sighs with the memory, “It almost hurts not being back there with my friends.”

  “I too miss my blobbule. I ate half of them, so they are with me, but I do miss the other half,” he adds to the conversation as the fox-eared girl comes back with a giant sombrero and the fanciest cake Izzy had ever seen. There is one candle lit in the middle. She plops the hat onto Dr. Blob's head. He raises himself up on 3 pseudopods so he can see what is going on.

  The fox-eared girl sets the cake onto the table. Then an unnaturally good singing voice begins singing Happy Birthday, and everyone in the room all starts singing. Dr. Blob has 5 eye stalks looking around in confusion.

  “Am I supposed to do something? This is all unexpected.” Dr. Blob says.

  “You’re okay, just let it happen,” Izzy says in a calming voice before going back to singing.

  The song ends. And Dr. Blob is no less confused. “Now what, Izzy?”

  “It's ok to blow out the candle.” She looks at the blob. And nods her head encouragingly. Then a thought occurs to her: “Can you blow out the candle?” As she finishes her sentence, the blob morphs into a giant, toothless, translucent mouth and makes a loud farting noise and blows out the candle; then the candle dislodges and falls onto the table.

  “Did I do good? He asks, looking around with his plethora of eye pseudopods.

  She ughs hard. “That was unexpected, but yes, you did good.” The fox-eared waitress takes the hat. “If you need anything else, let me know, birthday boy.”

  She slices the cake and pushes a piece in front of him and then one for her. As she watches, he touches it, and a slow stream of cake enters his core; it swirls inside him. She eats hers. “This is cake.” She savors its dark chocotey richness. ‘How on earth did they prep this so fast?’ She thinks ‘it was less than 20 minutes.’

  “We must open the box now,” Dr. Blob says and opens the wrapped box, and inside is a tub of vanil bean ice cream. “I was told this is traditional.”

  Izzy ughs a deep, long ugh; it's almost like her worries are expelled with every sharp exhale of ughter.

  Dr. Blob opens the ice cream and scoops two big scoops onto each of their ptes. “Yes, that is better,” he says with a wibble.

  They eat and make very small talk as they devour far more cake, ice cream, and wine than any rational human being would consider consuming in public. When she can't eat any more, she asks the big question.

  “So tell me, Dr. Blob. Should I be worried about the tentacle toxin?” She asks, more afraid of the answer than the question.

  “The tentacle beast, as your species calls it, is many things. They are notorious for wiping whole pnets of life. In fact, long ago in your history, the goliaths of the species did, in fact, try to wipe out humanity. Then they discovered how good some of your species are as incubators.”

  “They spoke highly at your gactic hearing. None of this is what you asked for.” He wibbles, his color turning light green. “This really is divine food. I shall eat it every day while I am here on vacation.”

  Her brain is overloaded; she stares at the cake slowly dissolving. “You can talk while you eat,” she says.

  “Yes, yes, I can,” he says.

  Several seconds of silence. As Dr. Blob judges her level of sentience. “So long-term exposure to tentacle beast toxins causes body modifications. Things like growing horns and tails. Cloven feet. Skin pigment transformations.

  “Skin pigment?” She mumbles.

  “Yes, I believe it's where your concept of devils came from.” He turns his pte and starts absorbing from a different angle. “But that's all easily avoidable if you get treatment.”

  “The doctor said he doesn't want to do the treatment for 6 months,” she sighs and wonders what she would look like with red skin.

  “Oh, you can get treatment with me tonight if you would like.” He jiggles in agreement.

  She eats her cake thoughtfully. “I mean, if you're willing, the doctor said I should wait, but I am having side effects. I guess the only question I have is to say yes, Will it hurt?”

  “No,” he picks up his pte and puts it in himself. The cake floats from the pte with the ice cream swirling around it; he removes the pte and sets it on the table.

  They spend some time talking about the stars and the disappointments of life as Izzy finishes eating the rest of her cake.