by Davina Lee
“I’m serious, baby. This is the Queen’s Gala. Do you know how long I’ve been planning these costumes? Do you have any idea how long it takes to grow this much vine?” She stretched her arms out wide and then let them fall at her sides. “If this doesn’t work—”
“We’ll figure something out,” Lina said, and laid a gentle finger under Arabel’s chin. Lina puckered up.
“Good,” Arabel said. “You figure something out. I have to pee.” Arabel spun around and trotted off. “There’s tree flower on the counter if you want some,” she called out over her shoulder.
Lina smiled. “I knew you were stoned,” she mumbled.
“What’s that?” Arabel’s words echoed around the corner.
“Nothing, baby,” Lina said. “Hey, where’d you get the idea for those ink designs? They’re really quite striking and I’ve never seen anything like them.”
“Oh that,” Arabel called from afar. “You’ll never guess what I found at work. Somebody tossed away a Book of Origin. Score!”
Lina hung her head in her hands and grumbled.
* * * *
“I think the problem is that you tried to tie it yourself,” Lina said. Lina was seated on the couch with Arabel kneeling in front of her, facing away, with arms raised in the air. “Couldn’t get it tight enough.”
“Ouch,” Arabel complained.
“Do you want this falling off in the middle of the Queen’s Gala?”
Arabel said nothing.
“I didn’t think so. Now keep those arms up.” Lina tied the last knot and announced it by taking a long, slow lick up the outside of Arabel’s triceps.
Arabel shivered.
“Arms up, baby.”
Arabel grumbled. “Don’t forget, I get to do you next.”
“And don’t you forget, I still have to do the bottom of you.” Lina leaned forward, taking full advantage of Arabel’s kneeling position, and used her tongue to begin outlining the scent gland behind Arabel’s right ear.
Arabel’s shiver became a shudder, and she bowed her head forward to give Lina unimpeded access. Lina continued ever closer to Arabel’s glistening scent gland, enjoying the drifting of mating pheromones she was getting.
“I should double-check the top, first,” Lina whispered.
“Mm-hmm.”
Lina continued exploring the area around Arabel’s scent gland, while she sent her fingers blindly tracing out the vines that wrapped around Arabel’s chest, squeezing her tiny breasts from above and below, before running over each shoulder to be tied off around back. Lina held a nipple in each hand, rolling it between her finger and thumb. Arabel threw her head back and moaned. There was no mistaking the scent now—the air around Arabel was thick with it.
“Once we get these covered with leaves,” Lina whispered, while casually rolling and tugging Arabel’s nipples, “you’ll be all set. At least for the top half.”
Lina licked. Arabel moaned.
“Mmm.” Arabel leaned her head back to rest against Lina’s shoulder. She looked up with fluttering eyelids. “You ready for me to do you now?”
“Almost.” Lina snickered, as she maneuvered to place Arabel’s scent gland between her parted lips. Lina inhaled slowly and steadily through her mouth as Arabel shuddered constantly beneath her.
Arabel stood up, whirled around, and straddled Lina with her open thighs. “That was not fair.”
Lina cocked her head to the side and grinned. “No grinding, baby. You’ll shred your leaf.”
“You’re going to pay for that.”
“I’m all yours,” Lina said, lifting her arms in the air and surrendering to Arabel’s embrace. “Just remember…”
“I know. Mustn’t be late and disappoint the queen.” Arabel puckered her lips and pressed her body forward.
“And hide that damn book.”
* * * *
By the time Lina stepped out of Arabel’s apartment, she was covered in crisscrossing of vines. Lina’s outfit was a one-piece, in contrast to Arabel’s two-piece, with a double pass of vines crossing above her breasts, twisted in the center and then reversed to pass below, until they met again in the back to twist again. Arabel had knotted several vines together so that Lina was covered, of sorts, from neck to thighs, in an open diamond pattern with green borders.
Everywhere that the vines lay, Lina’s skin was just a little bit pinker than usual, because Arabel had insisted that they be tight enough not to fall off. Lina hadn’t argued, much. And of course, there were also a few strategically placed leaves worked in to make the entire ensemble just barely passable for public consumption.
“I feel so sexy,” Arabel said, swinging her hips as the two skipped through the lower tunnels, hand in hand, lighting their own way with the myriad of bio-luminescent designs adorning their skin. Lina had even agreed to allow Arabel to paint on the same designs she found in the Book of Origin, but only so that they would be a matched pair, and not because she believed in anything the designs were said to represent.
“You are sexy, baby.” Lina squeezed Arabel’s hand a little tighter and she heard Arabel let out a contented sigh. “Just try to remember that this is an all-ages party, okay.”
“Yes, Mentor.”
“I’m serious. No tree flower in the punch bowl, okay?”
Arabel stuck her tongue out in Lina’s direction and giggled.
As the two ascended the ramps that led to the main commerce area, Lina could see the crowd was much denser than usual. Many of the shops were still open, selling festive masks, bracelets, delicious-smelling treats, or hand-held noise-makers. Of the shops that were closed, more often than not, there was a musician or dancer performing in front, much to the delight of small knots of people pausing on their way. There were even tattoo artists offering temporary painted-on designs for the younger crowd so that they could fit in with the markings of the adults.
The result was a cacophony of music and laughter echoing throughout the high-ceilinged area, and enough inked-on color that Lina had trouble discerning where one body stopped and the next one started. Of course, there was also the tree flower surging through her system that probably wasn’t helping in that respect. She looked over at the glassy-eyed Arabel on her arm who, for once in her life, seemed to be struck speechless.
“Wow,” was the only thing to cross Arabel’s lips since they ascended. That ‘wow’ coincided with a flaming baton that reached halfway to the tunnel roof before speeding back down and being caught by a gaily-painted diploid juggler below. The juggler did a twirl, smiling at the crowd encircling her, before launching two more balls of fire from her hands. They were close enough to the juggler that Lina heard the whoosh of flame and felt a spreading warmth on her cheek as the batons passed by. Arabel squealed and clapped her hands together.
The farther they went, the thicker the crowds. Lina looked at all the glittering masquerade attire obscuring the faces around them and felt a bit out of place. Arabel had the same idea.
“Let’s get some masks,” Arabel said. “Over there.” She pointed to a vendor with masks featuring similarly organic designs as what she and Lina already wore on their skin. Arabel made a successful transaction using a bit of tree flower petal, to secure two beautiful, glittering, handmade masks, along with a knowing wink and a few coins in change.
“Where are you planning to keep that?” Lina asked, glancing at the coins in Arabel’s hand.
“I’m not,” Arabel said. “Smell that?”
“The stench of humanity?”
“No,” Arabel said, “The grilled vegetables. Come on, let’s find them.”
Arabel tugged at Lina’s hand, but Lina stood fast for a moment, adjusting her mask and complementing the shop-keeper’s work. Finally, she gave in to Arabel’s insistence, and traipsed along behind.
“Thanks for the mask,” Lina said.
Arabel nodded, but seemed more interested in following her nose, and the two women joined the crush of patrons surrounding an open-air brasserie.
As they finally made it to the front, Arabel traded her coins for two bowls of rice and vegetables, and a skewer of vegetables for a young girl standing next to her.
“Where do you know her from?” Lina asked as they parted ways.
“Who?”
“The girl you bought the kebab for.”
“Oh. I don’t. She just looked like she had a rumbly tummy.”
Lina rested her head against Arabel’s shoulder as they walked on. “You’re sweet.”
* * * *
As they walked on from the commerce area, toward the royal palace, the air began to smell less like grilled vegetables, and more like wine and pheromones. The number of children had diminished to exactly none, and in fact, Lina and Arabel were both questioned by a palace guard because of their smaller size. To this, Arabel responded by explaining that they were actually full-sized diploids, but just really far away, so as to look smaller due to the effect of perspective. The guard was not amused, but let them pass anyway.
“I can’t believe you,” Lina said. “To a palace guard even.”
“They’re too uptight.” Arabel grinned, and guided Lina over to a dark corner. Once there, Arabel pulled a bit of tree flower from where, Lina did not know, and then began the sensual ritual of placing it alongside her scent gland and leaning her head forward to display the offering to Lina.
“You’re going to get us in trouble,” Lina hissed, but moved her mouth to take the flower petal anyway. “And besides, I thought somebody stole your tree.”
“I got it back,” Arabel whispered, and fixed her gaze on Lina, as she placed the next petal on the inside of Lina’s wrist. “Just go with it.”
Arabel’s tongue made contact just as the first hint of the new bit of tree flower Lina had consumed was kicking in. Lina shuddered.
The press of the crowd was heavy, but Lina quickly found that, in a tree flower induced fog, she really didn’t seem to care that much. The smoky, earthy smell of the brasserie, and the lively, acoustic rhythms of street musicians, began to give way to a cloud of fertility pheromone and a steady driving rhythm that Lina could feel in her feet. Up ahead was the queen’s palace.
Lina laced her fingers in with Arabel and began following the scent drifting down over the crowd, and the compulsion it manifested in her, moving forward closer to the queen’s presence. This was nothing like their earlier rave, with the twirling woman, the brightly-colored bracelets and glow balls, and the groups of scantily clad, glowing, diploids. This was somehow driven, more fanatical.
The throngs marched forward as one, drawn by the music and the scent, through the palace gate. And then, passing through the archway, Lina saw it—the Great Tree. She had seen it before, at exactly this same event, but it never failed to amaze her with its sheer size. Arabel was similarly enchanted, standing with her mouth agape as the crowd flowed forward, carrying them with it.
Lina looked up. Perched in the highest boughs were the queen and her closest court, outfitted in glittering robes of silk, interwoven with designs in gold and silver thread. None of the designs matched what Lina and Arabel wore painted on their skin. They seemed harder, more angular, not the flowing work of organic curves that Arabel had laid out. Lina hoped it would not make them conspicuous. She glanced at Arabel, but her mask covered all expression except for the most obvious gaped-mouth wonder.
The sturdy lower branches of the colony’s Great Tree were completely obscured by the writhing cluster of humanity that clung to them. Diploids, all masked, and with every manner of bio-luminescent designs marking their skin, were making their way to the Tree, crawling over and through the throngs of bodies already there. There was a low humming of vibrating bodies, layered over the top of the already driving beat of the music, that echoed throughout the palace chamber.
Lina spotted the queen’s royal winemakers making their rounds—unmistakable with their unique full-face masks with a proboscis at the mouth, and their baskets heavy with fruit. She nudged Arabel, who nodded as she continued plodding forward, following the crowd—the scent.
Any newcomers swarming the lower bough were quickly relieved of their clothing by the grabbing hands of those diploids already entrenched there. One more naked diploid body, her glowing body adding to the dim light of the cave that seemed to have no ceiling, it was so tall. Taller and wider than Cave of the Winds, Lina remarked, shouting over the din, but Arabel paid her no heed. Arabel was watching the winemakers at work with rapt fascination.
The newly stripped diploids were held fast by a number of hands reaching out from behind and beneath them. Their thighs were wrenched open at obscene angles, bodies vibrating, waiting. Lina shuddered as she watched one of the winemakers pluck a fist-sized fruit from the basket, full and ripe, that had been recently harvested from the Great Tree.
The winemaker held the fruit high above her head for a moment, she herself chanting and writhing to the heavy beat of the music, before rubbing the fruit along the trapped diploid’s scent glands. The diploid woman began vibrating and expelled a heavy cloud of pheromones that quickly dissipated into the surrounding air, already rife with the cloying stench.
All around, the same scene was playing out with other winemakers and similarly ensnared diploids. Lina watched as a scented fruit was dragged slowly down over another trapped woman’s bare, heaving chest while her heavy-lidded gaze automatically lowered to follow. Even from this distance, Lina could see the diploid’s open-mouthed gasp as the fruit was pressed hard against her sex until it disappeared. The winemaker with the basket then moved on to the next helpless diploid.
While the woman filled with fruit vibrated and spasmed, she was approached by a second winemaker. In her hands, this winemaker held a vessel that Lina knew contained fresh water from the colony’s well. A quantity of this water was sucked up into the winemaker’s proboscis, who then forced it into the mouth of the helpless diploid, and expelled all the water at once into her throat. Lina watched as the diploid woman choked and sputtered, the winemaker’s hand now clamped over her mouth.
Lina had only taken part in the wine making ceremony at one other gala, and had since then lost her nerve until now. She couldn’t get past the feeling of drowning as the water was forced down her throat, the feeling of aching fullness and cramping down below as her muscles involuntarily clamped down and crushed the fruit inside her. And by doing so, turning the fruit to pulp just as her sex began to swell, mixing in her own juices as the final step to completing the process.
With this dark memory at the forefront of her mind, the air around Lina seemed suffocating as she watched the thrashing diploid. The third and fourth winemaker approached, the third holding her vessel low between the spasming woman’s thighs, and the forth reaching out to fondle the shuddering diploid’s sex with two outstretched fingers. As the fingers disappeared, the diploid woman’s mouth gaped a few times before being locked opened in a sensual scream that was lost among the noise of the celebration.
Lina recalled the sweet feeling of much-needed release, even from so long ago. The rush of the newly made wine gushing forth from inside her, leaving her empty, but satisfied, ready to take her turn as one of the faceless grabbing hands holding the next one in line. But try as she might, Lina could never get past the choking feeling.
Arabel, on the other hand, had either never experienced it, or didn’t care, because she began making her way to the Tree’s trunk, ready to ascend to the sturdy lower boughs.
“Arabel,” Lina said.
“Come with me.” Arabel reached for Lina’s hand.
“Arabel…I…I can’t,” Lina said, stretching her arm out as far as she could before losing Arabel’s fingers to the compulsion that sent her marching toward the Tree.
“Arabel,” Lina cried out. Her voice was swallowed by the beat of the music and the constant hum of the crowd—a beat that became frenetic and a hum that was increasingly dissonant, as numerous unseeing hands reached out, pulling at Arabel’s tiny body.
“Arabel,” Lina sh
outed again. No use. Lina was one against the tide and could do nothing but curse the tree flower flowing though her system as she stood, frozen, watching the ritual play out before her.
Arabel’s mouth gaped as the fruit was pressed inside her. She spasmed as the water filled her throat. And all that time, Lina choked down her own bile, as she watched the bio-luminescent glowing mass of bodies writhing around Arabel, keeping her pinned to the bough of the Great Tree. Watching helplessly as Arabel’s little body jerked and shook.
Lina fell upon her hands and knees and vomited before she even saw the newly converted royal wine being taken from Arabel’s body. As Lina tried in vain to stop the spinning of the room, she felt a gentle tap on her right shoulder. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked up, through teary eyes, into the smiling face of a large diploid woman, covered in glowing bio-luminescent artwork, with a bota bag slung over her shoulder and holding a cup of water. Her face seemed to glow.
“Your Highness,” she said as she stretched her hand out to Lina, who took a small sip at first and then guzzled the rest. And Lina, upon seeing the beaded skirt, made the fuzzy connection that it was the twirling woman she had collided with at the rave. She hoisted herself up onto her own two feet, intending to think the woman for the water, but she was already gone, lost to the crowd.
Lina snapped back to the here and now as she felt the first hands on her body. Even in her moment of distress, Lina had been compelled to move ever closer to the Great Tree, until finally she was ensnared. Lina closed her eyes and thrashed her head side to side, insisting to herself that this was not happening. But it was. Lina grunted as the first winemaker deposited the fruit, forcing it deep inside Lina’s sex.
Lina had just started to form words of a protest when the second winemaker’s proboscis was forced between her lips. The water that was expelled tasted wrong—bitter. Lina suspected it was due to the bile still clinging to parts of her mouth, but she couldn’t be entirely sure. She wasn’t given much time to think about it as the drowning sensation kicked in and she spasmed, thrashing against the arms that held her.