The first time I watched porn, I was more intrigued than turned on. Seeing the way things work, it’s… interesting. Nothing like what I was expecting.
Back home, when kraken females go into heat, they have up to ten males in their den with them. Kraken women are rare, and so are our children. Usually, there is only one born every three years. The pregnancy isn’t long, lasting about four months, but for some reason, the females don’t take to the eggs easily.
Typically, kraken go into heat at the end of summer, though they can enter a heat at any time. The female produces hormones once she is in heat. If a male is matched with that scent—something we don’t understand or control—they will start to produce eggs. These eggs are inserted into the female one at a time. It takes up to a day to see if that egg will beaccepted or rejected. Most of the time they are rejected. Still, when a female kraken is in heat, you will hardly see the men around because they spend all their time trying to implant the female with their egg. Sometimes those who weren’t initially attracted to that female’s scent will become so after some time.
This goes on for weeks, sometimes months. Sometimes the eggs never stick at all, or the female will fall out of heat. The males become exhausted and stop producing eggs—sometimes forever, depending on age.
The entire event is time-consuming and tiresome, even for someone who has never gone through it. It’s all the other kraken think about all the time, like it’s everyone’s business. I understand breeding is important to keep our species alive, but the whole thing just feels strange. Breeding should be intimate, not public gossip.
But there are only three things kraken care about.
1. Being kept a secret.
2. Being in charge of other kraken.
3. Making more kraken.
Personally, I don’t like the idea of finding a female to impregnate with my eggs just to carry on the kraken species. I don’t like the idea of sharing one female with other men, all of us fighting to see whose egg will stick. There's too much pressure put on one kraken, and I’m certain—even though there is no solid proof—that it’s why some of my kind lose their ability to produce eggs in the end. If males continue to produce eggs, they can try to implant them into as many females that are available, and that’s just more stress.
Female kraken don’t look much different from the kraken males, other than being lighter in color, and attraction doesn’t work the same way it does for humans, but I can say that I am not attracted to females, period. I noticed it immediately the first time I came up on land, and all I could do was stare at themen lying on the beach with their shirts off, skin and muscles glistening in the golden sun. I’d immediately jumped back into the water, terrified by what was happening to my body. It was my first time as a human. I had no idea what was going on with my cock—I didn’t even know what a cock was at the time. Now I am very familiar with it.
“So, did you always want to be a drum tech?” I ask, wanting to make conversation with Leif so I can get to know him better.
He shakes his head, putting his beer bottle down. “Nah, but I knew I wanted to do something in the music industry.”
“Not play, though?”
“I like playing, so no. I didn’t want it to be my job.”
I huff out a laugh. “I don’t know if I could ever not like playing.”
“I’ve heard too many stories of musicians losing everything outside of itbecauseof it, and they come to resent it.”
I know about resentment a little too much.
“Well, I don’t have to worry about that. Don’t have anything outside of music.”
“You don’t have family?”
I shrug, not wanting to get into the drama that is my family. “Not really,” is what I decide on. “Kraken are fucking weird,” I mutter before grabbing my bottle and draining the contents.
The bartender asks if I want another. I agree, and she grabs it from the cooler beneath the bar and pops the cap before sliding it over.
Someone is announced over the speaker as the next singer comes on stage, and a song starts up that gets both mine and Leif’s attention.
We both smile, and I chuckle because it’s an Unbound song. It’s a slower one; one we don’t play live. A single, not on our album, but it’s a popular one, nonetheless.
The guy singing is right on time, his voice not perfect, nothing like Lucien’s, but still good. He hits most of the notes, going off-key only a few times. It seems he’s more interested in singing the songtosomeone rather than making sure it’s right, which is sweet.
But that’s the fun in karaoke, isn’t it? There’s an addicting sort of energy when you’re not focused on being perfect but just having fun.
I’ve sung karaoke a few times, showing off the bit of talent I have as a singer. In human form, my voice doesn’t take on that aquatic quality like it does when I’m in my stage form. When I’m like this, my voice is deep and raspy. Not the type of voice that can sing anything, but I can do Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, and Soundgarden covers pretty well. Not exactly karaoke music, since people are drunk and want fun and upbeat stuff, but if the vibe is right, it works.
I’d thought of doing some acoustic stuff on my own when the tour ends. I could pull gigs as my monster with The Unbound and do my own stuff as human. No one would ever know.
“You sing?” I ask, reaching for my beer.
“Oh no,” he says, shaking his head. “No, not at all.”
