by M. E. Thorne
I took a deep, calming breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Naked, I walked into the stalks, hand-in-hand with Gnasher.
Without the others, a heavy silence had fallen over the atrium. The stalks swayed in the humid air. Unsure where to go, we wandered into a tiny clearing, the ground soft and giving beneath our feet.
“Now what?” I asked, looking around.
As if to answer my question, numerous tendrils split off from the nearby stalks. I instinctively recoiled from them, but Gnasher squeezed my hand again.
“Relax,” she told me, “everything is going to be fine.”
The tendrils grew and multiplied, surrounding us. They brushed us with the lightest of touches before they began to wrap around our arms and legs. For some reason, I had expected them to be slimy and cold, but they were warm and delightfully slippery instead. My mind flashed back to the one time Gnasher had given me an oil massage after a big score at work.
“Happy endings included,” she smirked as if reading my mind.
Closing my eyes, I willed myself to relax and lean into it.
Sensing our acceptance, the Panacea lifted us into the air, but close enough so Gnasher and I could still touch and kiss one another. I felt my legs spreading out as more tentacles wrapped around my waist to support my weight. Gnasher was left in a similar pose, grinning as my hands started to roam over her breasts.
Slick with oily, she worked her fingers up and down my shaft, squeezing and stroking my cock.
Thicker coils rose from below, encircling our limbs. I could feel a slow and steady rhythm, like the beating of a heart, through their skin. A thousand smaller tendrils worked over our bodies, stroking, caressing, and rubbing away all our concerns and pains.
I noticed some of the feelers near Gnasher had grown hard, nail-like tips, which they used to scratch and run through her fur. She purred in pleasure, my mouth against her neck as I licked and kissed my way up to her face.
The oil tasted faintly sweet, mixing intoxicatingly with her salty sweat.
Her hands slowly worked their way to the base of my cock, fondling and cupping my swollen balls. The Panacea joined in, their tendrils, slowly working along my shaft and rubbing my engorged cockhead.
Even more tendrils rose, wrapping themselves around our bodies.
“Ready for the big show?” Gnasher gasped, sensing the same thing I was.
I carefully nudged a coil that had been exploring near my backdoor, and it gracefully veered away and began to play along my lower back instead.
Gnasher, having no such inhibitions, shifted her hips wider as two thick tentacles approached her asshole and snatch. Smaller ones played with her nipples, tweaking and twisting them as she rolled her head back and moaned with desire.
In front of me, an oddly bulbous tentacle rose, the end shaped like some strange, overripe fruit. As I watched, the skin peeled back to reveal a wet, pink mouth and undulating flesh. Despite my painful arousal, I convulsed in fear.
“Look at me,” Gnasher put her arms around my head and pulled me in, “Just relax and enjoy it, Marcella wouldn’t allow them to do anything that could hurt us. Be here with me.”
I closed my eyes again, joining her for a delicate, tender kiss. “I’m okay,” I then said out loud, “Let’s go.”
Gnasher gave a spasm of lust as the two waiting tentacles began to work their way inside her. Her whole body shivered. She yowled and shuddered, and our kiss became more frenzied and shameless.
I felt a tender touch along the head of my shaft as it was enveloped by the tentacle. A groan escaped my lips as the orifice started squeezing and contracting, working up and down my cock, milking it for all I was worth.
The other tendrils along my skin quickly matched its pace. My whole body felt like it was on fire as my hips began rocking in time.
Opening my eyes, I was greeted by the incredible sight of Gnasher getting double penetrated, the two tentacles working like pistons as they plowed into her. She broke off our kiss to howl in bliss. A third, smaller tentacle rose and began attacking her exposed clit, sending her into further heights of ecstasy.
I grabbed onto her and held on for dear life, her whole body wracked by nonstop orgasms. My groin throbbed and strained in kind, a huge climax building from deep within. It was like nothing I had felt before. My awareness narrowed, focusing on my cock, which was ready to explode.
“Gnasher!” I screamed, thrashing against my bonds.
Hearing me, she clenched me tightly as we both climaxed.
It was like a supernova, a burst of light, heat, and sexual rapture. I felt the tentacle wrapped around my cock twist and buckle as it tried to suck down my unending tide of cum.
The tendrils and coils that held us up shook and swayed in time with our cresting waves of euphoria.
As my orgasm ebbed, I felt lightheaded and weak, like everything had been sucked out of me. I hung limply in the Panacea’s embrace.
The tentacles gently lowered us to the ground. Gnasher, equally dazed, held me close as I passed out.
Chapter 17
Anthony and Cleo, still as statues, stood over us as I woke up. I was rather proud of the fact that I didn’t scream like a frightened idiot when I came to and saw them.
“Thank you for the samples,” Cleo said as we got back on our feet.
We were outside the fungal forest, near the door we had come in through. The colony had been kind enough to clean us off after our session. My skin felt smooth and clean, and Gnasher’s fur was lustrous. Our old, bloody, clothes were gone, but the two Panacea handed us new, clean outfits.
“Your companions picked these out and they requested that we give them to you,” Anthony explained. “They are back in the guest room.”
“Thanks,” I said, as I pulled on the jeans and black t-shirt that I had been provided. There was even a pair of boots to replace the blood-soaked pair I had been previously wearing.
Gnasher was dressed in a pair of green terry cloth shorts and a matching crop-top. Someone had thoughtfully added a hole for her tail.
“How did the test go?” I asked, a sudden jolt of fear running through me, “Did you get everything you needed?”
“Yes, it was quite stimulating,” Cleo nodded. “We have forwarded the genetic data to our specialists. It will take time for them to fully sequence your DNA and analyze the mutation, but it appears your condition is stable.”
I let out a breath I didn’t even know I had been holding, “I’m not going to turn into some kind of mutant dick monster?”
The dull, impassive stares they gave me was all the answer I needed. Gnasher gave me a huge hug as I felt a flood of relief.
“You must be tired,” Anthony nudged us through the door. “Return to the guest room while we discuss how to get you back to the Metrocomplex.”
“How did it go?” Spinny asked once we returned.
Gnasher and I were famished, we sat at the table and immediately began attacking the leftover food and snacks. We tore through several packs before we slowed down and started eating like civilized people.
“Really well, I guess?” Gloria said with a small laugh. She was dressed in a new swimsuit, white with blue racing stripes.
Sabra had traded her clothes for a collared shirt, slacks, and a pair of hiking boots. Marcella had kept her jumpsuit. Spinny was wearing a peacock patterned robe, belted around her narrow waist. She had been braiding and putting up her hair as we came back into the room.
“He’s not dying,” Gnasher coughed and choked on some crackers.
“Or mutating into a flesh-lump,” I added with a great deal of relief. “It’s going to take a while for any formal results, but I’m very happy to know I’m not going to spend the rest of my life eating crumbs off the floor.”
“Speaking of which --” Gloria came forward, her rucksack in hand.
She turned it over and gave it a gentle shake. With a wet squelch, a tiny flesh-lump fell onto the tabletop.
We all sc
reamed in unison. Except for Marcella, who was impassive as ever. Gnasher pushed Spinny and me back, her claws unsheathed.
“Wait, wait,” Gloria jumped in front of the creature, wings spread protectively. “Don’t hurt him, Billy is perfectly safe!”
“Billy?" I peeked over her wings.
The flesh-lump had crawled across the table and was happily rooting through the discarded food wrappers. Marcella walked around Gloria and began to poke the thing. It responded with a tiny, flatulent bark.
“I believe it has grown again,” she observed, looking towards the bat-girl. “I’m glad the mushrooms we picked earlier were not harmful to its digestion.”
“You knew about this?" Spinny was incredulous.
“Yes,” Marcella said. She poked the creature again. “Flesh-lumps, as you call them, are generally harmless, provided they are in good health and properly fed. They are scavengers that consume detritus. Several colonies use them for cleaning and garbage disposal.”
She began to rub the crown of its body. It reared up and began to snuggle against her hand.
“We saw a dead flesh-lump the size of a tank,” I said, remembering the giant corpse we had encountered outside of Nakamura-Ghosi Genetics. “It didn’t look friendly.”
“There have been sightings of mutated specimens, but they are considered exceptions,” Marcella replied.
Gnasher still had her claws out. “Where did this thing even come from?”
“I found him in my rucksack after we escaped the lab,” Gloria admitted, looking sheepish. “He must have snuck in, I had left an unwrapped ration bar in there. He was just so small and helpless looking, I couldn’t just throw him out!”
“You do realize these things attacked and killed a bunch of Syndicate members,” I said, glancing over at Sabra.
Staying behind Gloria’s wings, Sabra leaned over and cautiously stuck out a finger. The lump wiggled up next to her. Gnasher flexed her claws, ready to strike. We were all surprised when the creature ignored her and went back to eating.
“None of this makes sense to me,” Sabra stepped back, still looking wary.
“Flesh-lumps hunt based upon smell,” Marcella explained. “I cannot state for sure without experimentation, but I can hypothesize that something that Syndicate members regularly carry or wear can cause flesh-lumps to enter a hyper-aggressive state.”
“Because they smell funny?” I asked.
“I had to tranquilize this one inside the Honormark facility,” Marcella said, still petting the flesh-lump. “Otherwise, it would have given away our position.”
“They all smell like plastic, antiseptic, and gun oil to me,” Gnasher said, rubbing her nose. She looked over at Sabra, “You just smell like a human to me without your suit on.”
“Our hazmat suits are treated with dozens of chemical coatings to help protect us from this planet’s hostile environment,” the Syndicate woman stated, clearly mulling the problem over. “It must negatively react to one of them.”
“See, Billy can be super helpful,” Gloria put down her wings. “If any Syndicate jerks are sneaking around -- no offense,” she said to Sabra, “he can sniff them out for us!”
“A flesh-lump’s sense of smell is a hundred times sharper than a Jinx’s,” Marcella lifted Billy as if to demonstrate. The underside of the lump was dominated by its puckered mouth. As we watched, it opened, revealing its toothless maw and a long, tentacle-like tongue.
“They can taste and identify anything in the air,” Marcella put Billy back down, and it happily resumed slurping up food crumbs.
Gnasher huffed while I went pale from nausea.
“We got to come up with a better name for them,” Spinny griped, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Billy is a great name,” Gloria cheerfully smiled.
“We are not calling them all Billy,” I groaned.
Just as we started getting into a good-natured argument, Billy hopped off the table. It crawled over to the door, fanatically barking.
“What the hell?” I glanced over.
The first explosion happened a split second later.
Anthony and Cleo met us in the hallway. Though their expressions were composed, I could read only distress in their stiff shoulders and clenched hands.
“What’s happening?” I yelled as another tremor rippled through the ground.
Gloria had stuffed Billy back into her rucksack but left the top flap open. The little creature continued to angrily bark and even managed to make a somewhat menacing, growling sound deep in its guts. She had to hug the bag tight to keep him from jumping out.
“Someone is detonating explosives several levels below us,” Cleo answered. “We believe they are attempting to destabilize the station and cause it to collapse.”
“How did they get so close?” Gnasher asked. “I thought you had defenses all over the place?”
“They are employing some kind of antifungal gas,” Anthony answered. “It is harmless to us, but it deadens and weakens the fungus sentries we use to watch the tram tunnels.”
“It's Valash,” Sabra said. “He's brought reinforcements. There was a piece of corporate technology he had found somewhere. I was only allowed to study it a little bit, I believed it was designed to pacify hostile plants and fungal life. But I never got to test it, it was left back at the embassy. If he has it, that means he returned there and then came back to hunt us down.”
“Why?" I felt my injured leg suddenly twinge in memory of the stab he’d delivered me. “And how did he find us so quickly?”
“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “But we need to leave, now. If we can get out of here, he’ll probably chase after us and leave the colony alone.”
“We have already begun an evacuation,” Cleo said as they led us down a series of twisting hallways. “But it will take time to awaken and move all our siblings.”
“Let’s get going then,” I said.
We only stopped briefly in a supply room so our two hosts could hand us backpacks that contained emergency supplies.
“It should be less than a day back to the Metrocomplex using the route we’ve provided our kin,” Cleo said. She handed Spinny a rolled up piece of paper. “Here is a simplified map, in case you get separated.”
“Thank you again, for everything,” Spinny replied.
We all nodded in agreement.
“We are always happy to help our sisters,” Cleo said. “Our colony has come to agree with our kin. Things are happening on El Finito that concern us all. We will need to discuss this further, but our long self-exile might be coming to an end.”
We walked deeper and higher into the station. The spore clouds, which had been coming down like slow motion snow, were now whipped up into a veritable blizzard. The hammering blows that were rocking the station had knocked them loose from their pods.
I could see large cracks forming in the concrete, and the floor felt unstable underneath our feet. Several of the larger fungal growths had broken free of their moorings and fallen.
“It will take some time to repair the damage if the station does not fall,” Anthony commented.
He stopped by a particularly large fissure and jammed his fist into the hole. A thick, white fungal foam sprung up as he drew his hand back. The fuzzy goo quickly filled the crack before hardening into a tumorous-looking gray growth.