AB Chapter 26: This is a Disaster!
Location:
Washington D.C.
Maher Street, known as “Alien Street”
The only Peipeijia Star Hospital — Pre-Pregnancy Examination Room.
Characters:
A small flower being held by the scruff of his neck.
A big yellow bumblebee with a black eye holding the small flower.
A Peipeijia star doctor with human-like features and antennae on his head — tall but not overly exaggerated — looking at them as if they were rare curiosities.
"Doctor, can we start the examination now?" Simon’s face was dark as he shoved the expressionless, dead-fish-eyed flower towards the doctor.
“Don’t rush,” the doctor smiled, marveling, “I’ve been alive since I left the hive, and I’ve never seen a plant-type and carnivore-type male bee get into a fight. Can I take a photo?”
He planned to post it on his blog. Plenty of male bees would like it, and maybe even ask for the address to send knives to this rich bastard who bought a rare plant, raised him into a spouse, and then domestically abused him.
Simon growled defensively, “We didn’t fight!”
“Oh.”
The doctor turned to look at the small, skinny plant-type as if asking for his side of the story.
Michel said nothing. Ever since he found out he might end up with a big belly in the future, his world had metaphorically died — and thoroughly so.
The doctor’s smile widened as he pulled out his phone. “Hello? I’ve got a domestic abuser male bee here—”
“I said we didn’t fight!” Simon’s face turned from green to black, veins bulging on his forehead. He restrained his anger and said, “My flower refused to come to the doctor. I only got hit while trying to pull him here. I didn’t hit back!”
“Oh~ well, you should’ve said so earlier.”
The doctor hung up, his smile now far more sincere.
Every year, there were always little plant-types who were terrified of injections and medicine. When whining and acting cute didn’t work, they’d go into full rebellion, refusing to come to the clinic — leaving male bees covered in scratches and bite marks.
But male bees were sturdy. He remembered one time a plant-type bit his warrior bee, leaving a bite mark on the male — and losing a front tooth himself.
So this wasn’t unusual. Seeing no visible injuries on the black-haired youth, the doctor nodded and accepted the explanation.
“Alright, tell me what symptoms he has.” He sat back down and frowned when he noticed Simon still holding the back of Michel’s neck. “You can let go of him now. Holding him like that is uncomfortable. Honestly, you young warrior bees never know how to be gentle.”
Simon: “…If I don’t hold my baby, he’ll run.”
Doctor: “I don’t believe you.”
So Simon demonstrated.
He gently let go. Michel’s eyes seemed to be glaring, but his pupils subtly shifted toward the door.
Inside, he was shouting: Opportunity — run!
He scrambled toward the door, using both hands and feet, tucking in his neck to avoid getting grabbed.
But Simon, prepared, slipped both arms under Michel’s armpits and lifted him up entirely!
Michel kicked in the air twice before his eyes, filled with hopeful sparkles, turned back into dead fish eyes.
Simon, holding up his flower, turned to the doctor: “See!” He tried to run.
Michel hung limply, neck tilted, arms dangling — looking just like a cat pretending to be dead to avoid a vet visit.
Doctor: “……”
Is it that bad? Just a checkup. I’m not going to eat your flower.
“Fine… Just sit here and hold him.” The doctor, used to plant-types being shy outside but relaxed only around their male bees, was surprised at how extroverted this one was. “Tell me where he’s feeling unwell.”
The doctor pulled out a pen. “Is it anxiety, indigestion, or maybe psychological trauma from your first time?”
Michel twitched at the corners of his mouth, pressing his lips shut.
Simon said, “None of those.”
“No?”
The doctor was surprised. Most plant-types brought in had no serious illnesses — especially pampered ones.
“So what is it then?”
Simon explained how his flower had been missing on Earth for twenty years and wasn’t developing well. “There should be an old electronic medical record. You can check it.”
The doctor gave an acknowledging sound and fell silent. When Michel couldn’t help looking at him with curiosity, he saw the doctor remove his glasses.
He wiped his eyes.
Choked with emotion, he said, “That’s… so touching…”
Michel: “……”
Simon: “……”
They looked at each other.
Michel: Didn’t expect male bees to be so emotional…
Simon: No, baby, this guy is an exception. I swear I’ve never seen a male bee cry either.
After quietly mourning their great love story, the sentimental doctor wiped his eyes with a tissue from one of the two tissue boxes on his desk.
“My apologies. I used to be a commander-type male bee. We tend to overthink — it’s in our nature, you know…”
“But going through being kidnapped, surviving alone on an unfamiliar planet, and still having a male bee who never gave up on finding you—” the doctor said gently to Michel, “You’re very lucky, child. After the misfortune, your bad luck is over.”
Michel turned away, avoiding eye contact.
Feeling the warmth from Simon’s chest on his back, he thought: I know. I feel that way too.
“Alright.” The doctor turned to his computer to look up Michel’s old record.
“Tell me your ID number.”
Michel: “ID number?”
Doctor: “It’s—”
“It’s on your waist,” Simon interrupted. He gently ran a hand over Michel’s slim waist. “Plant-types bound to a male bee share the same number, just with a different suffix.”
Oh, the number on my lower back… Michel adjusted his position, twisted to lift his shirt and looked.
Still the same pale white skin.
Small blue-green letters, like a clothing label:
Species: Rare
ID: no.9604100965
Private Property, Simon Exclusive.
“This is my number?” Michel subconsciously touched it — no raised texture. “Someone once told me, when I was little, that it was buyer info. Because I was a product — like all kidnapped children.” On reflection, it was actually like a birth certificate, proof of identity.
The once-agitated youth smiled at his past misunderstanding. But as he looked up, he saw the doctor tearing up again. He instinctively turned to Simon, who also had red eyes.
Doctor (pulling tissue): “So tragic… Our Peipeijia star’s flowers have never suffered like this…”
Simon (gritting teeth): “That person who stole my baby… he should count himself lucky he died early!”
Michel: “……”
He finally understood why most people had one tissue box on their desk, while this doctor had two.
After a while, the doctor regained his composure and pulled out two candy-like objects wrapped in colorful paper.
He handed them to Michel.
“Plant-type nutritional gel. Fruity flavor.”
“Thank you.”
Michel unwrapped one and ate it — pleasantly chewy, tasted like orange gummies.
While he chewed, the doctor scanned the number on Michel’s lower back and checked the file. Simon gently blew on the little flower on Michel’s head — and somehow, that really did help Michel calm down.
Even the explosive news that plant-types could get pregnant wasn’t stressing him out as much anymore.
“You two go pay first,” the doctor said, “then take this form to the second-floor Plant Department for a checkup. Results will be out in ten minutes. Bring them back here after.”
He handed Simon the slip.
Simon nodded and walked out with Michel still tucked under his arm.
Michel wanted to protest how humiliating this was, but just as they stepped out, they ran into a couple — two Peipeijia star males visiting Earth.
The cold, tall male bee was doing a full-on princess carry while calling his flower “baby” in a raspy, gentle voice. When he saw Simon carrying Michel like a sack of potatoes, he even frowned slightly — almost like… disapproval?
Michel, suddenly conflicted inside, asked, “So… do all male bees call their flowers ‘baby’ like that?” He had thought Simon was unusually clingy.
“Of course,” Simon nodded. “We raise them from young. In our eyes, you’re all adorable babies.”
Michel: “Then would you do this to your baby?” The black-haired youth made a hand gesture — forming a circle with his left thumb and forefinger, and poked it with his right index finger repeatedly.
Simon’s face turned bright red! His amber eyes darted everywhere, not daring to look at Michel’s hands.
“This—this…”
“Beast.”
“……”
“Scumbag bee!”
“……”
Speechless and red-faced, the bumblebee fled, dragging Michel off to pay and get the test done. The whole time, he didn’t dare look Michel in the face again.
Hmm—
Hahaha!
Michel was overjoyed inside, grinning ear to ear.
At that moment, the doctor suddenly exclaimed happily, “Wonderful! Congratulations, Mr. Simon. Your flower has recovered well. I’ll prescribe some medications — you can enter the special period and start preparing for pregnancy!”
Simon’s eyes lit up: “Really?!”
Doctor: “Of course!”
Simon looked down at the person in his arms, filled with joy.
“Baby, did you hear the good news? We can have a child! We can even—”
Halfway through his sentence, the bumblebee became shy and shut his mouth.
Michel froze on the spot: “……”
No.
This is not good news.
This is a disaster!!!
[Author’s Note]:
Mini Theater
Doctor: Wonderful! You can enter your heat cycle now!
Simon: Really?! Baby, this is such great news!
Michel: ……
Simon: Baby baby baby baby baby.
Michel: Get lost!
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