The Grellics

Chapter 1
Waking Up In The Operating Room

There is nothing quite like a grilled cheese sandwich. Two slices of bread, butter on each side, each side lightly toasted and then flipped over. Lay thin slices of sharp cheddar and provolone crossways on that toasted inside, and heat until its all melted and gooey. Finally, when the outside is toasted golden, put the two pieces together, take a bite, chew, savor, and finally wash it down by a nice, cold, swallow of whole, frothy milk.

Not that he was likely to ever taste one again, not stripped, and strapped to an examination table by the Grellic. Or was it a butcher table? He wasn't sure. Was this the bunch that ate humans, preparing gourmet meals so scrumptious that it was (almost) an honor to be an ingredient? Or was this the bunch that kept them as livestock. Modifying humans as needed for milk production. And which was worse, really? As the main course, or dessert or whatever, at least the death was quick.

On the other hand, maybe being a dairy human wasn't so bad. They implant a couple of glands in your chest, ones that only produced milk if implanted in a human. If you were a guy, they would also force you to grow breasts, but that could be fun if you look at it just the right way. Then they milk you. Every day. He once knew a nursing mother, and she told him that nursing was kind of fun, and even kind of arousing. Could be interesting.

His name as Alfred. While he was tied to the table, he found he could still look around, so he did. He didn't see butchering equipment, or carcasses hung to age, so he guessed he was headed for the milking sheds. Maybe they had already done the surgery. He looked down and sure enough, there were two scars, one under each nipple. So how big were his breasts going to be? He had always liked big boobs on women, but somehow wishing his own would be big was kind of creepy. Best not to think about it right now.

So how long was he going to be in here. He was feeling pretty well, so why not take him on to the milking sheds, so he could get to know who we was going to be housed with? What would he do between milkings. That is what he wanted to find out now that the initial shock was over. He hated to be board.

Well, nothing to do but examine the room. There was the table, of course. Nearby he saw some equipment. How had he missed the beeping? Gee whiz, now it was annoying. Downright irritating, as a matter of fact. So OK, tune that out. What else could he see?

Mirrors on the ceiling. Mirrors on the ceiling!!! What in the world did they need mirrors on the ceiling for? He hoped the doctors were looking at him during the implantation. That left maintenance, or fun. He hoped it was maintenance, but he guessed it was fun. Imagine, those Grellics doing the nasty in here between operations. Or maybe, they were breeding humans in here.

That was an interesting idea. Would it work? Would HE be able to perform in here? Depending on how long it had been, he guessed he might be able to perform anywhere. Of course it would help a lot if the girl was hot looking. It would be a girl, wouldn't it? What a minute. Did the Grellics breed their dairy stock, or did they all come from outside? And the Grellics probably did not care what each diary human looked like. Hell, it might all be artificial insemination. Gee whiz, that would take all the excitement out of it, wouldn't it. Darn. Then what did they need the mirrors on the ceiling for? He would have to save this mystery for the dull times between milkings. Would they at least get to play cards?

So back to the room. There was the table, the surgical equipment, and the mirrors on the ceiling. Were there any pictures on the walls? Of course not, it was an operating room. But yes, there were motivational posters. Surprisingly, he could read them. Who know Grellics spoke his language. There was one on that wall, two on the next wall, and the third wall was blank. Totally blank. No even a piece of equipment near it. Another mystery he would have to save for the dull times between milkings.

Take a minute. Drag things out as long as possible, since it looked like he would be there for a while. Now read the first poster.

TAKE PRIDE IN YOUR SKILL
CUT NO DEEPER OR WIDER
THAN NECESSARY

OK, that is encouraging. Or is it. Does that mean that the surgeons here had bad technique? He looked down again, and his scars seemed small and straight. So they must not need to be remained to cut carefully. That is a relief.

Carefully, slowing, read the second motivational poster.

DON'T LET YOUR SCAPLE GET TOO SHRILL
AN AESTHETIC CUT GOES IN YOUR WILL

Now what in the world does that mean? At least it rimes. And the colors are very pleasant to look at. Perhaps this is just supposed to have a visual effect and nothing more. Well good, there is mystery number three to take to the milking sheds. If he could just make a note, perhaps he would be able to remember mysteries one and two.

OK, that was one wall. That left the other wall with the other poster to be looked at. That made two walls with posters, and one blank wall, so there must be one wall he had not looked at yet. Of course there was. It was the wall behind him.

Gee whiz, this was getting really boring. Perhaps it was time to sleep some more.