Chapter Text
Paul Matthews and Emma Perkins knocked tentatively on Professor Hidgens’ door. The house loomed large and eerie, the setting sun casting long shadows that made the old mansion appear even more foreboding. After a moment, the door creaked open.
Professor Hidgens peered out at them with a half-smile. “Oh hey Paul, hey Emma. I’m guessing you came to see my son?” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe.
“Uh, yeah!” Emma responded, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
“Come on in!” Hidgens said, gesturing for them to enter.
Hidgens led them through narrow hallways lined with odd paintings and sculptures that seemed to watch their every move.
“So, it’s adopted?” Paul asked.
“Indeed,” Hidgens replied, his voice taking on a somber tone. “Found the poor little thing on the pavement. His parents must have died.”
He stopped in front of a door and put his hand on the knob, turning to them with a smile. “Say hello to Stu.”
The door creaked open, revealing a small nursery bathed in soft, golden light. A cradle sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by an assortment of toys and baby paraphernalia. Professor Hidgens walked over to it, his face lighting up.
“Aw, he’s just woken up,” Hidgens said, reaching into the cradle and tickling the baby’s belly.
Paul and Emma stepped closer, peering into the cradle. The moment they saw the baby’s face, they recoiled in horror. Instead of a human infant, a strange green, furry octopus-like creature looked back at them with wide, curious eyes. Paul immediately jumped back, letting out a yelp, while Emma’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a scream.
“That is NOT a baby!” Emma yelled, her voice shaking.
“What are you guys talking about? Of course it’s a baby!” Hidgens responded, a touch of defensiveness in his voice. “He just has a skin disorder.”
With that, Hidgens picked up the creature and cradled it lovingly. He then proceeded to take off his turtleneck, much to Paul and Emma’s horror, and began to breastfeed the baby. The sight was both surreal and revolting, and they watched in stunned silence, unable to tear their eyes away.
“I-I think we should go, Emma,” Paul whispered, his face pale.
Emma nodded vigorously. “Um, we bought some gifts! Just a few baby clothes, diapers, toys, and whatnot, but we REALLY should be going now because I have to go…”
“Go to church!” Paul blurted out, seizing the opportunity.
“Y-yeah, you know how Grace is,” Emma said, forcing a smile at Hidgens.
Just then, Ted burst through the door, his usual boisterous self. “Hello, Hidgens! How’s it going? Let me see the little bundle of joy because I am officially Uncle Teddy—”
Before he could finish, the baby detached itself from Hidgens’ nipple and vomited projectile milk onto Ted, sending him sprawling to the floor.
“Fuck you,” the baby said in a weird, squeaky voice, its tentacles writhing in apparent amusement.
Paul and Emma stared in disbelief, the room spinning around them. Ted lay on the floor, groaning and covered in the baby’s regurgitated milk.