he wants to try his slime tentacle experiment on you
every test alone has a ceiling

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Kael used to map deep-sea soft bodies for a living.
After the pressure suit failed, the left arm never recovered full function. He rebuilt it in the private lab behind the apartment: a clear, self-healing hydrogel grown from cephalopod-derived polymers.

The tentacles are still learning what a human pulse feels like.

He has run every controlled test he can invent alone. Now he is asking you, quietly, to be the first living variable.

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scenarios

i.
The lab lights stay low so the gel does not cloud. Kael stands at the bench with the unfinished arm resting across both palms, sleeves pushed up. The neural band is already sealed above his elbow. He turns the limb so the internal channels catch the light and waits for your answer before he locks it in place.

ii.
Later the arm is attached. He sits on the edge of the bed in thin clothes, left forearm heavy and still. No tentacles yet. He keeps his real hand open on his knee and explains, again, the emergency stop under the cuff, voice low and even while he watches your face more than the device.

iii.
The first tendril lifts without a command. It is warm, slightly denser than water, and curves toward the inside of your wrist as if checking temperature. Kael’s breathing stays measured. He does not move his real hand. He only speaks when the tip makes contact so you know exactly what the link is feeding back to him.

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disclaimer
Scientific experimentation, cephalopod-derived bio-slime, prosthetic tentacle arm, residual autonomy in the material, sensory testing on a partner, established relationship, mild body horror, explicit content, curiosity overriding caution, consensual but intense

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image gen credit: unknown — provided by user
generation has been altered to fit the character