Two

He’s rough with me. We’re not having sex, he’s just grinding on me, pinning me down against the soft earth. I like it so much that I don’t care about the grass crawling into my hair. Should I look at his desperate face or the stars? Should I listen to his whispered begging to put it in me or to the babbling water? I don’t answer, just pull him closer for another kiss.

I try to pin him instead but he’s way too strong and I can’t. That doesn't dampen my tenancity. He wonders if he’s being too rough. I assure him I’m just playing and we roll down the hill towards the creek below and we stop just beside it. He’s mad about the mud and gets up and goes away. I blow him a kiss and he says, if I’m not going to give it to him I shouldn’t have called him out here.

I still like him.

The stream cools my skin as I trace my fingers over the slippery pebbles just beyond the bank. I enjoy seeing my arm disturb the water, only for it to recover as if I was never there.

A hand emerges from the bottom of the river, releasing a cloud of mud as it extends towards my own. I grip it and let it pull me in.

Four

My room, it’s dark except for the sparse streetlights, the window is open. A breeze washes over me as I stare out purpling sky. Rain makes the pavement fuzzy. I know I’m dreaming, and I want to explore before I wake up, but there’s someone watching from the house across the street.

Six

There’s a whimpering coming from the upstairs bathroom. The front door behind me is open; I could ignore what’s going on up there, could explore my old neighbourhood. It’s rare that I’m so aware and in control in a dream so why would I subject myself to whatever horrors await me upstairs? But I’m ascending the stairs because I know that it’s important.

I open the door. My mother is gounging scissors into her arm and biting down on a towel to muffle the agony. She bleeds sickness into the tub, then twists towards me at an awful angle, contanimated tears leaking down her cheeks. “Oh, I missed you.” Slippery guts float in the defiled water behind her. “You didn’t like the dog, so I got rid of it for you. You don’t love me, so I did this. Aren’t you happy? Why are you crying?”

“You’re awful.”

“You’re right,” she says. She stabs herself in the neck.

Seven

“Could you take care of her while I’m gone? I know things are weird right now but I want her to be okay.”

My fingers trace his sweat-slick chest, over the wet indents my teeth made earlier.

“I want that too.”

Ten

The roar of rain cannot be ignored even in the classroom. The exam questions are written in a painful font. My eyes can barely hone in on a single miniscule word. I have to put my face right up to the paper. I look so silly. I lose track of which line I’m reading, and the clock is spinning too fast on the wall, and everyone else is writing diligently. My hand smudges my ink into laughable illegibility.

Mr. Plover comes up to me and tells me to stop writing. I relinquish my woeful attempt. I tell him that it’s not fair, that I’m not on my best form today. He says it’s just excuses.

When I get home that night, I’m drenched. My parents (who don’t look like my parents) tell me not to worry about it. My dad says he’s never been very good at maths either and he’s done just fine in life. I don’t tell him how much that hurts. How could he think giving up on life is fine? I head up to my room and watch the torrential downpour. Something moves but I can only make it out by the way it distorts the streetlight’s illumination.

Twelve

False awakening. In my dorm this time. I double check this by looking at my hands, at the clock, and then I head to Kimberly’s room. Her door is unlocked. I ask if I could please kiss her a bit. She lets me. Her mouth tastes like cherries, and just as I’m getting into it, she pushes me away, saying I’m not her boyfriend. I tell her that I didn’t mean to trick her.

Thirteen

I’m studying at home again, but I keep getting up to get snacks, or because the dog is barking, or someone wants to talk to me. Every time I forget to come back and the progress I have made. Then my sister takes the notebook and I have to chase her. I scream at her to give it back give it back give it back and she finds it so funny that she flushes it down the toilet.

Seventeen

My old house. It’s so quiet until my mother looks out from the door; she’s greyer than before, her eyes bleary, and nose wet with thin mucus.

She comes towards me, arms outstretched. “How was school?”

I back away and she pouts. “You don’t even want to hug your mother anymore, do you? You’re never too old for a hug.”

That’s not it, that’s not it. Can’t you feel blighted sludge squeezing through your raised veins? Don’t you weep at the way your sagging skin slips from your face? When you cough up red and yellow, doesn’t it tell you something’s wrong?

“Just one hug, for me?”

She’s coming faster now, and I’m up the stairs in a heartbeat, hand over my mouth so I don’t breath in her foul wind. “Don’t come near me, I’ll hurt you.”

She backs way. I can’t tell if her eyes are dripping more from the exertion or if she’s crying. She goes back into the kitchen.

Eighteen

Another hotel dream but this one is a Premier Inn and is much cleaner. I’m sitting on the couch at the edge of the room, playing a game on my PSP. There’s someone else in the room on the other side of the bed. I keep my ear out for their movements.

Twenty

I'm there again, in the bathroom, my mother's disgusting corpse has fallen into the tub, displacing irreplacable litres of its once sacred contents. I try to drag it out as best I can, before it can spread its contamination further, but it's so slipperly, so heavy. I eventually manage to hoist her out by wrapping her hair around my hand, but I'm left with greasy strands embedded in my flesh, wriggling towards my arteries. Panicked, I grasp at them. My grip is tenuous; they could snap or slip at any moment.

I rush down to the kitchen. The knives. I could cut them out. I have to cut them out. I cut them out. I expect to wake up, but I don't. Not even as the knife severs muscles, and lifts flesh. Why the fuck don't I wake up? The pain makes me piss myself and I'm pretty sure I must be doing the same in real life - but still I don't wake up. In a furious effort to shock myself, I plunge the knife deeper. The noise that comes out of me is utterly animal, a most true and beautiful expression of agony.

Yet I don't wake.

I disinfect the wound with the first aid kit from under the sink, and wrap my hand up in bandages.

Twenty Two

My sodden clothes drip rainwater onto the carpet. I sneak up the stairs to my room but can do nothing about the wet trail behind me and sure enough my mother notices it. She barges into my room, asks me where I’ve been all night. I say I went outside to enjoy the rain. She doesn’t believe me. “You know what they call people like you? Sluts. That means you have no respect for yourself.”

“He was in me, but he didn’t come in me,” I admit.

She says it doesn’t matter. She leaves the room and comes back with bar of soap in hand. She cries and tells me to take off my underwear.

I open my window and tell her that I’ll jump out if she doesn’t back away. She laughs. She says that’s even better. She’s not bluffing. I look behind me and see a bouquet of hands emerging from a puddle. It is my only chance. I leap out of the window.

Twenty Three

I’m fat. An elderly man takes hold of a roll of my belly and stares in my eyes. He pinches hard. When I try to bat him away from me, my hands slow down before they impact him. “If you weren’t such a layabout, I wouldn’t be able to do this,” he says.

“I’ve been studying hard, dad, I don’t have time to exercise.”

“Excuses.” He pinches harder and I pull away. “Your grades aren’t even good.”

I’m doing my best I want to tell him, but I know he won’t believe me. It doesn’t matter. “Take care of your sisters tonight. I’m working overtime.”

I don’t say anything. When he leaves, I make a simple meal for my sisters. The youngest refuses to eat it, but the middle one tells her that I tried my best. I sigh and take a bite of my own. They’re right; it’s not that good.

At night, once everyone is asleep, I get a text. I can’t read the name, but I know he’s my boyfriend and I want to be with him. It’s a long walk to his place, and I almost get lost in the lightless city, but he finds me wondering, and takes me to safety.

The room is buzzing and little dark bugs crawl over a wet spot on the pillow. He shakes them off and welcomes me to his side. As he touches my body lovingly; the tightness on my belly where I’d been pinched dissipates. His body is frail for a boy, but I find comfort against his ribs, in the way his long fingers curl into me stimulate my deepest parts. I even find comfort the pinpricks on tiny legs on my feet.

Twenty Five

In my room, he’s sitting on my bed, naked. I don’t know how we got here, but I don’t care.

“Do you want to touch me there?”

“Yes.”

He undoes his belt, takes my hand, and places it between his legs. It’s so warm and he’s hard and … yes, he’s bigger than me. It isn’t long before my own erection emerges. I squeeze his shaft through his underwear, working my way up to his tip. My fingers glance over a little wet patch. His precum? I want it on my skin so and I rub that patch with my thumb as I stare up at his lustful face.

Now it’s his turn to blush and moan and be so utterly kissable that our lips are drawn together as if by force. He pulls me closer to him, unbalancing me. I have to put my free hand around his waist for support.

I stroke him and bite his lips gently and thank him for letting me feel like him like this.

He traces his hand along by back, to my head. He pulls my hair. I oblige and he kisses my exposed neck.

I whimper.

I surrender the space in my mouth to him and he accepts it. His tongue eagerly explores its new territory. He’s so warm and solid, and I want to keep him in my mouth as long as I can. I tease and push against him.

His slides down my side and rests on my hip. I press my chest up against his, partly because the air feels so chilly where his warm hand had previously been, and partly because I want to be close to him. I want to be so close to him. I don’t just want his tongue in me, I want his member and essence inside of me.

“Please cum in me.” I want to let him in me and make him feel good and wonder if it would be okay to let him in without any lube if he promises to be gentle (although I don’t want him to be gentle). But I’m on my knees pleading him to cum in me, not caring how desperate I sound.

He lowers his underwear, letting loose his dick right in front of my face. It is straight and veiny, and he has the most marvellous bush. I dive into it, breathing deep. I kiss along the shaft, first up to the tip, and the down to his heavy balls.

He moans.

“Can you put it in your mouth for me?” he asks, squeezing his balls towards me.

I do at once, carefully sucking his left testicle. I lick it slowly, cradling it with cheeks and tongue. I taste the sweat that's accumulated in the time beteen his shower last night and sleeping in the bed warmed by both our body heats. It’s so utterly him. I swallow a mixture of my saliva and his essence. He holds my head firmly in place. “That’s so good. Fuck. Keep doing that please.”

He strokes himself furiously so I can feel his skin pull away from my lips with each tongue and with this encouragement I lick along more of the ball before moving to the next one, treating it with the same care and attention. I’m still entraced when I feel one a pull on my hair—more insistent then before, still not painful—and relinquish my hold.

A white stream bursts out his dick; I can just about close my eyes just before I feel it spray over my eyelids, cheeks, and lips. I instinctively lap up the salty substance, although I want to leave it on my face as long as I can.

He rests his hand gently on my head, and I take that as a sign I can relax into him. I rest my head against his crotch and take a relieved sigh.

I can feel it dripping onto my chest and probably into my carpet, but I couldn’t care less. “All that for me? I can’t get over how you literally spilled your essence over my body.” Not to mention in my mouth; it’s travelling down my throat as we speak.

He helps me to my feet and asks how he can help me cum too, but I tell him this is already good enough for me. I go to the bathroom to clean up, wipe most his cum off my face and put it on my tongue. I squish it against my hard palate.

Before I swallow it, I realise there’s a bathtub beside me. It’s filled with otherworldly treacle, and something moves within it. A pair of lips emerge, followed by two overlong arms which wrap around my head and draw me close. I comply since the lips look soft and inviting. Once we’re close, I transfer James’s essence to the mouth.

Twenty Six

My hand is still injured. My trousers still soaked. I have no doubt my mother's corpse is still up there, eager to drag me to the grave with her. I can think clearly. This sort of dream isn't normal; I shouldn't be aware of so many sensations at once. I shouldn't know the cold on my legs, the rain's roar, and patchwork aches and numbness of my hand all at once. How would I even know what that feels like? The worst injury I've ever gotten was a sprained ankle.

I know I can't wake myself easily. I just have to wait it out. There's no way I'm doing that in this house, especially not when there's still something shuffling upstairs. Did she not really die? I head outside.

The rain cleans me. Warmth soaks through my clothes and my hair. I strip down and rub my crevices clean of any remnant blood and dirt. As realistic as it is, a dream is a dream and I should take advantage of it. There are no consequences to my nudity, nor anything else I might want to do. Maybe I'll head into town and offer my body to someone attractive. The idea excites me so much that I start running.

I see someone long before I get to the main town. Well, the shape of someone; a figure formed of rain and fog standing beneath a dying streetlight. I slow down and approach it. It feels familar, and I ask if what it is. It doesn't answer. It's more difficult to see the closer I get, so sublte is its outline.

By the time I reach it, it's gone. My dissapointment consumes me for a moment; I recall how I felt only moments ago (although really it was days ago) when I found my mother defling the sacred liquids. But I see it up ahead, now lit by the waxing moon. It leads me this way; each time I get close, I fear I've lost it forever, but eventually it takes me to a muddy patch in the middle of the park.

I start digging. I have no implements but my hands--hand, really--but I shovel away squishy lumps of mud with a surprisingly industrious spirit. My mind still floats to the idea of getting fucked by dream people, but I can hardly stop myself. This feels so much more important. Even though it takes forever, and my back ages, and any ground I excavate is at once filled up again with rain. This is in fact the point, I realise, as I come to knee height.

"You're digging your own grave, child," a serious voice behind me says. "Why are you here?"

Panting still, I turn around and see a wrinkled man. My late grandfather. He stands with his hands behind his back and a concerned look on his face. I tell him, "Don't worry about it."

"I'm trying to look out for you. I don't know what you've got yourself mixed up with, but it's not too late."

I know what he's about to do when he raises his hand. I tell him not to. I tell him to leave me be, that this is my decision to make, but he snaps is fingers and the dream ends.

Twenty Seven

Venus is looking at the non-fiction section in an airport bookstore. I look at the horror section. I don’t want them to go, I want to hold her close, for her to stay. Mohawk guy comes to collect her, saying they have to go now, and I follow them to the sky tram. He says goodbye first; cups his hands around their face and kisses them deeply. Then Nikol squeezes their hand and whispers something blush-inducing into their ear. Finally, they turn to me and the tears come from both of us. I feel their warm cheeks, against my own when I pull them close. I kiss them many many times until the sky tram pulls up, and then some. I tell them I love them more than anything. “I love you more than anything too. We’ll be together soon.”

Thirty

Before he snaps me away again, I crawl out of the hole, begging him to stop. I grip his shoulder pads and stare him down. "Don't do that. Please. I know what I'm doing."

"You know no such thing," he scoffs. "You shouldn't be here."

"What, in the park?" I roll my eyes. "You shouldn't be here." I forget why not. I just know him being here is an invasion of something private and special.

"Look around you. We're not in a park." He's right. The trees are too massive for this to be a park, and the moon too massive for this to be Earth. Or a dream representation of Earth. He gently removes my hands from his shoulders.

"I still have every right to be here." I remember where I am and new anger flashes through me. I push him. "This is my dream. This is my place."

"Child, no." He dusts off his jacket where I shoved him. "You shouldn't want to be here. Come talk with me for a minute. I'm sure whatever is going on we can sort out. You're lonely, right? You won't have to be forever. But this isn't the answer."

"I don't like your attitude. I've asked you to let me be, so let me be."

He's about to answer but he freezes up, takes on an even paler visage than he had a moment ago. He eyes focus on the figure which stands at the other side of the the hole.

It doesn't speak as such. It's more like it radiates its intentions: keep digging

I trust it to handle him so I return to my work, scooping with renewed passion.

"Stop. What are you?"

It doesn't answer him. I can feel its watchful gaze over me, and know my grandfather is petrified. That as badly as he wants to, he cannot snap his fingers.

Keep digging. I carry on, until the muddy water is up to my knees. I wonder for the first time why the sodden walls haven't yet collapsed on me. Then I notice them; a network of black and undulating fibres, embedded and expanding as I dig, stopping the hole from collapsing on me. I have supporters here, not just enemies.

Keep digging. Only the dead are still. I refocus on the task at hand; I push through the pain in my back, ignore my grandfather's whimpers, and then, his screams. I'm up to my chest at this point, and have to dive between each fistful of mud. I keep going even when I hear an awful phlemphy shriek in the distance, because I know that as long as I am moving, I am alive, and none of them can kill me.

Then I run out of dirt and I touch something smooth. Daylight shines through the translucent pink membrane. I know I need to keep going so I dive once more, scractch and claw at the final boundary. This has no effect and I have to come up for air. My grandfather has left at this point, although that awful sobbing shrieking is getting closer. I drive again, pull a section of the membrane into my mouth, and bite down hard.

It bursts; all at once the muddy water is sucked out, taking me along with it. I land on my back in a puddle.

The soft patter of footsteps on wet grass aproaches, and I've just sat up and I'm surrounded by confused smiling faces atop naked bodies. It's as if they're eyelid-pink light wearing torn human flesh; but as I come to my senses, I see it's just that they're covered in a white substance reflecting the sky.

The bravest of the unblinking watchers extends its wet hand towards me. At first, I think it's to help me up, but instead it gropes at my chest. The rest join in, smearing their ooze over by body with their eager hands. I laugh at the ridiculousness of it, and let them have their way, even as they begin to grope me between my legs. They clearly mean no harm, and none of them are unattractive. Their floral growths are rather pretty, in fact, and I enjoy the delicate way they brush against my skin.

I moan close my eyes, giving into the sensations. Then, when one tries to put my penis inside her, I withdraw, a moment of panic flittering across my face. They pause, all at once, and let go. I catch my breath then lead the nearest ones hand back to my chest. Blinking at the same time, they resume their exploration of my body. When a tall man slips a finger, cautiously, into my mouth, I don't protest at all. I even suck on it a little to show it's okay. When another pushes two into my hole, I squirm happily at the new sensation.

It goes on this way for what feels like blissful hours before someone new approaches. I'm concerned he won't find a free space, but the rest make way. The new comeer is an old man with long grey hair, and deep set blue eyes. Those eyes, unlike the others, narrow suspciously at me. They others defer to him, slowly peeling further away and leaving my orfices desparately empty.

"Hello and welcome. Who might you be?"

It takes me a moment to get to my feet, and face him. He patiently waits as the crowd disperses. I'm a little put off by the fact my fun was ruined, but I try not to let it show. "I"m Aster. I just came out of that hole."

Thirty One

I’m in the bookstore at a mall, struggling to choose what to get with my gift card. Then ahead of me I see Denise with a tall guy in a dark smart shirt. His face is all beautiful angles and his hair is so thick it could stop a bullet. I hide in one of the other sections. It's not like I have anything to hide but I'd rather just avoid the awkwardness. And if they do find me, I can always show them the gift card, so they'll know I have a reason to be at this very store.

They find me. She asks if I’m stalking her.

I show her the gift card and tell her I’m not. Somehow, it's not enough. I wait for them to pay for their purchase. They don’t have a gift card or any money so the clerk brings out a sharp yellow fang and asks Denise to stab her hand into it.

Before she can, I say I’ll pay with my gift card. I don't want her to be hurt, despite it all, and offering this is something anyone would have done. She tells me this won’t make her like me and that I should stay back. The tooth wasn’t clean it would have given her an infection. I don’t tell her this.

Despite trying my best to avoid it, I keep running into them: at the food court where they’re eating burgers, and the electronics shop where I’m looking for games, and the fountain just outside the mall where they sit down to relax. Each time I leave immediately before they spot me, but my timing is so bad that we end up facing each other again. At the arcade, I find them again and this time I cannot bear to leave without doing anything, so I sit down and start playing a racing game.

Eventually the guy comes up to me and asks what I’m doing here. I tell him I’m playing games. He tells me I need to stay twenty metres away from Denise at all times. “You want to keep making her uncomfortable?” I don’t, of course, but it’s my right to be here too.

He hits me.

I’m elated at a good reason to be violent to him, so I claw at him. I get one good scratch in under his face.

He overpowers me easily. He lifts my crying screaming form, takes me to a shooter game where he wraps a gun's cord around my neck, winds it tighter and tighter. My flailing limbs grow heavy.

I beg him to stop, that I can prove to him I’m not interested in Denise. He doesn’t listen until I say I’ll even lick the inside of his shoe as he gets her pregnant and won’t even look up.

This is enough for him and then I’m in his bedroom, eyes forced shut. Denise screams and moans with each wet thrust as my tongue laps up the sweat of his well-worn boots.

Thirty Two

Lucid dream. In a hotel. I’ve sweated through my sheets. There is no-one outside, and I’m weak; my bones cannot bear to rise. I think I haven’t eaten much for a while. I don’t like this dream. I half-crawl to the window but it won’t open all the way so I can’t jump off the building. Next, I go to the bathroom. I feel for the light switch but can’t find it. The wall is slick with grime. Something sloshes in the bathtub.

Defeated, I return to the bed. Holes part like gasps, in my cheeks, in the middle of my forearms, and in the small of my back. Worms sprout forth.

I really can’t move.

“Aster?”

“Yes?”

“Are we friends?”

Thirty Five

It’s early morning and I’m in my room. No, I’m in James’s room. There’s a girl on his bed, but he’s not here. Why is there a girl here? Did he fuck her?

I get up because my train is due soon.

But the girl. She’s clearly passed out drunk. Although she seems okay, I don’t want to leave her to wake up confused in a place she might not remember coming to. I check for my housemates (no, James’s housemates) but I can’t find them. Their doors are all locked.

I’ll make some breakfast, there’s still time to catch the train. I crack eggs and try to make French toast. Then I hear the girl calling for help, so I hurry back to my room, and try to explain that I didn’t do anything to her, that she’d collapsed, and I didn’t know where she stayed, and couldn't contact her friends, so I let her have my bed while I slept on the floor. She listens but still seems wary and I understand it, but it hurts to be seen that way.

Then I smell the smoke and hurry out to find breakfast ruined. I try again, and in my rush, I undercook it. Fuck, the train is due soon, but it’s a mess and she girl still doesn’t know where she is.

I should at least text Cindy to tell her I’ll be late. Only, I can’t find my phone. I ask the poor girl to ring it but there’s no sound. Did I lose it, or is it out of battery?

Thirty Six

“Are you really okay with this?” they ask me, already straddling his hips.

“Yes,” I breathe.

It’s different, seeing them with someone else. Like when we watch porn together, but way more intense. They blush pink as he gropes their butt. I know it feels good for them, their expression beams pleasure straight into my soul. My clit engorges, pressing out against my underwear. I come up behind and start grinding against their back.

My old friend smiles at me, then looks back at them, eyes glazed with lust. Yeah, obviously you’d look at them that way; they’re gorgeous, they feel amazing. I want him to know what their insides feel like too; I know he’s liked them for even longer than I have.

I moan in time with them as he grinds his member between their lower lips. When he slips it in, I angle myself to enjoy the friction of their bucking back, kiss their neck in time with his thrusts to enhance the peaks of their pleasure. “Do you feel good baby?”

“Yes, yes, I feel so good.”

“You deserve this, you deserve to feel so good.”

Thirty Eight

It was an accident. That’s all I can think when I see awful way her arm twists. I tell my red-faced little brother that it wasn’t his fault, he was just playing around. At first, I think he just misinterpreted what I said due to the stress.

“Why did you do this?” he asks.

“No, it’s not my fault either. You were just playing rough, and it was an accident. Let’s just call 119, okay?”

He shakes his hand and looks at my little sister. “I’m sorry he hurt you.” He’s crying now. “Why did you do it? He’s only small.”

My parents are hurrying over now. My dad shoves me out of the way. He gives me a scornful look as he calls for an ambulance.

“I didn’t do it, dad, he’s confused.”

“Shut up. I swear, I'll kill you if you say another word.” He strokes my sister's cheek, but she doesn't seem to notice.

Forty

It’s a gloriously hot day and we’ve gone on a walk through the forest. My eyes dart to an iridescent flash; it’s a dragonfly, hovering over the reeds by the lake. I follow it wave and yell at my parents, but they’re already so far ahead, following my little brother as he toddles off the lakeside footpath. Forget about them; it’s nice here where the lake-cooled breeze washes over me.

I take refuge under the shade of the tree and wait to see how long it takes them to notice they left me behind.

Eventually I realise they’re too far gone and probably don’t even know where they lost me. It’s better to stay put, I think. I splash my face in the lakewater. It’s clean enough.

Actually, it’s unnaturally clear: as the ripples vanish they reveal a strange wavering crescent in the murky bottom, above it a number of white splotches, distorted by the water. It’s only when they move do I realise they’re eyes and I’m looking at a face.

I stumble back. The crescent mouth widens, tendrils pouring out like dirty smoke. I blush, back away, smitten but uncertain.

Forty One

I can't get back in the house. I get this heavy feeling in my stomach when I look at it, like I know it's no longer my home and that I'm no longer welcome. It's innards have been excavated and its shell repurposed for something hostile to my very nature; but there's a familar barking from inside and I have to get in.

So I get the ladder from the shed, nose scrunched at the smell of rust, place it against my old bedroom window, and carefully ascend. The window is slightly open; it was a bit too large for the frame. I recall this always bothered me but now I'm grateful for the oversight. I step onto my bed, snapping a twig underfoot as I go.

The barking is coming from downstairs, but there's a new sound in the room too; a hollowed whistle coming from the bed. I look down and see the, still living, remants of my sister, her shrunken skin and broken arm. Panicked, I try to left her out of the bed, to hold her close and say I didn't forget about her, but her head lolls widely as I pull her towards me, and her decayed bones can't take it. The whistling stops.

Fourty Two

He regards the hole, raw and gaping and oddly red, for a moment then smiles. "So you have. It's very nice to meet you. Let's be off." He starts to walk away, down a gentle slopping path towards some twisting, dark trees. They'd be easy to climb if only they had branches.

"Where are we?" I ask him.

He watches me curiously, taking a long moment before answering, "We're at the outskirts of the village."

I find this odd since it appears that we're in a city, rather. Only a strange city without many people, where all the cars have been abandoned, and thick black ivy grows up the side of buildings. A few blocks away, we find the "village" which is confined to an apartment building by what was once a busy road. Silky ribbons are strung between streetlamps, oddly shaped papermache dangles from balconies, and dark jagged drawings of some many legged thing have been placed in the windshields of the hollow cars along the road. The locals, who presumably put up the decorations, are fucking each other out in the open. I join a crowd that's gathered to a watch a particularly loud threesome occuring on a mattress in a fountain. One large man is penetrating another. The recieving man is eating out a woman, while she leans in to kiss the larger man.

"I see you're already quite comfortable with how things work here," my elderly guide says, "but we do need to go talk about some things. Please, come with me, let's talk somewhere quieter." He grabs my shoulder and doesn't let go until I turn from the moaning three. He takes me into the main apartment building. We find a damp spot near the broken elevator where he sits down on a pile of pillows and blankets. I sit next to him, noticing for the smell of the place for the first time; halfway between sex and soil.

"So people just fuck each other here? Like it's nothing?"

"Not like it's nothing," he says with a reproaching glare. He calms his expression and explains. "It's a sacred activity. The sharing of Essence is holy and our most holy day is approaching, so of course the Recombs are even more inclined than usual."

"What I mean is ... it's normal to just ask someone to have sex with you? You don't need to like ... make sure they're okay with the question first?"

He nods, reclining deeper into the soggy fabrics. "You really are from before. That's excellent."

They've not been here long, he says, but their community has existed since almost the start and are closely related to the Alpha Strain. Most other Strains have gone extinct except in the smallest patches. Their ecosystem has only a few functional parts; The Recombs, The Priest, The Sower, and The Harvester. Yes, they just have sex with each other freely. Indeed, the primary function of The Recombs, the people who were playing with me earlier, is the exchange of Essence. "Once we're done here, you're welcome to stuff holes or get your holes stuffed as you please. Of course, you won't have terribly long to do it, for the Sower and Harvester are returning." Their roles are dual, he explains; The Harvester having taken essence from, and the Sower having spread essence to, the outside, they're due to return and do the reverse within the village. "I'm certain this event will disrupt this connection we've made."

"What do you mean?"

"It's better that I don't say. If I say too much prematurally, I could ruin things. For now, I'd just like to make an exchange. What is that you want here?"

"I'm not even sure why I'm here."

He shakes his head. "That's not what I asked. Don't worry about how you got here. You're here now. What to do you want to do?"

"I want to have sex. Lots of sex."

"Very good, I thought so." He has a smirk on his face, and I blush when he regards my body. I also spread my legs a little to give him a better view. "Ah, yes, of course I'd like share Essence with you. You came from somewhere very interesting after all, but that's not what I'm saying now. You may go and have sex with any body you like, but I must just ask one thing in return. Bare only this in mind, 'The fires come first, after that the false sibling, and finally the sky will die.'"

I wait for him to elaborate, but he does not. "I just need to remember that phrase? What do I do with it?"

"Yes." He motions for me to shush and listen. "The Recombs getting rather excited out there. Join in while you can. That's what you want, isn't it?" He gets up and helps me to my feet.

"And I really won't offend anyone by asking to do it with them?"

"They're not really people, you know." He smirks and takes a few steps towards me. "Things really were more complicated before, weren't they? You can ask them sure, but it would be like if someone asked your gonads directly. Just by allowing you to be here, we've already consented to the exchange."

I take a few steps towards the door but am overcome by sudden nervousness. Why is that? They were playing with me just moments ago, and that was easy, but now that I have to go out there and initiate it I have no idea what to do. Perhaps it is simple for the people here, but who knows what kind of unspoken rules they have which The Priest assumes I know? If I make a mistake will they just kick me out, or worse, kill me?

"Do you want me to help you?"

I nod and he comes towards me, finger digging around the back of his mouth, squeezing something until his overflowing with the thick offwhite substance - Essence. He takes out his coated fingers. He asks me to turn around.

I do as instructed. He's not so bad. I understand that he had to be sure of my intentions before I could participate in the splendor of this place. Now that I'm sure we're on the same side, his arm pushing my cheeks aside is comforting.

His fingers enter me, up to the first, and then second knuckle. My hole is surprisngly compliant and I can't help but let out a small moan as he finger fucks me. "This helps doesn't it? You're getting warmed up now, ready to accept every and any appendage." He smirks and curves his fingers into my prostate, causing me to leak a little splutter of my own Essence over the crack tiled floor.

"Mmm," I say. My horniness has come back and blown apart my inhbitions. I look up at the old man needily, and feel a sense of pride when I see his grin. He's enjoying doing this to me.

All at once he plucks his fingers out, leaving my hole lubricated, tender, and achingly lonely. "Go on, Aster."

With is encouragement, I walk back out into the street and find the orgy in full activity. Bodies are wrapped around each other, holes being spread open and sprayed into, people are moaning in eeriy and inticing unision. I step towards a group of four people sucking and thrusting into each other in the back of a pick up truck, and as soon as I'm within range a searching hand grabs me. My face is taken to somewhere wet and moist and and I start kissing and rubbing, enticed by the little shivers my efforts seem to induce. It tastes a little bitter I cannot get enough. It's not long before my well-prepared hole is entered and I gasp. Someone's actually in me. This is what it feels like to be part of something, to have no space between oneself and another, to have singular purpose with someone. Hot and heavy impacts on my ass cheeks drive me further into the wetness in front of me. It's difficult to breathe, especially since everyone around me is secreting that fluid so there's little air to go around, but I don't mind. The thought that I might pass out and they would just keep on fucking me makes me come there and then. An oppurtunistic mouth wraps around my penis, licking feverently at the Essence I removed. It's so sensitive that I end up squirming and this sets off the Recomb and way, way too much Essence is delivered into my asshole. Just as soon as it finishes, it leaves, letting it slowly gush out. Just like with my penis, there is no space for wasted Essence, and someone promptly sucks at my asshole.

I had thought I might go around trying out different bodies, getting a feel for what I like, but the tide of the orgy is too much, and in the end I simply allow myself to be taken by it. I lick whatever my face is close to, sometimes other faces and tongues also coated in a cocktail of Essences, and spread my legs to accomodate whoever wants to add their contribution to my hole. At one point, I end up with two dicks caught in my hair, and struggle to take them out. Oh god, my hair is matted with the fluids, and I can't see myself, but I'm sure it's a good look, because everyone insists on sticking their genitals in my face. They all want my kisses, they all want my licks, they to feel around my insides with their fingers, and dicks, and tongues, and I've never been happier.

As my tongue glides over and into another, a new, coppery finds its way between the gaps. At first, I fear that I've bitten new friend, and I'm about to apologise, but when I open my eyes, I see that the person next to us has been opened up. Their guts are wriggling. Despite this, they carry on rubbing their penis against the entrance of a woman beneath them, who herself has been crushed beneath some clawed foot. I follow the trajectory of the leg as it lifts up, but loose track of it among all the others, each as spindly and angled as the last. I don't know what I'm looking at. I pause trying to figure out how the pieces go together: those are teets, right, which the Recombs are sucking at? The thin, spiked pole piercing that person's anus looks like a weapon, but the way they stroke it makes me wonder; is it a reproductive organ? The long appendage spraying over the crowd must originate at the loins, but why is there jagged-tooth mouth near its base, chewing the juice out of a red pulp?

Even when something hard and massive forces its way into my mouth and stretches my throat to the point of agony, I cannot tell from what it comes from.