< knocking >
…
< more knocking, urgent >
< distantly > —away!
… … …
< frantic knocking >
< door finally slides open > What? Can you not see I’m in the middle of something?
…!
You’re kidding. Already? < sigh > Alright… well, obviously I haven’t prepared anything. We’ll have to skip the intro this time. Just start the film right where we left off. I’ll pop down to editing sometime this afternoon for commentary.
In the meantime, I’ll be needing a few interns in here… …writes a bloody seven-thousand page manual any—
< slam! >
*
“Mike! Mike, can you hear me?”
Mark squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He was feeling deeply disoriented, well aware of how completely insane he had been behaving… and simultaneously aware of just how wonderful it had been to finally scarf down that stupid corpse apple… or whatever it was called. The closest he could compare his mental state to was that moment of clarity you get when you have just finished rubbing one out only to find yourself on a particularly dubious website.
“Man…” he enthused, almost laughing over the grit between his teeth. “Maybe all those health nuts were onto something. That was wild!”
“Dammit, Mike! Pay attention,” Naomi shouted behind him. “I still need some help over here!”
He gave his head a quick shake to clear it before glancing over his shoulder… only to discover his companion holding a tiger by its tail. Or a turtle, as it happened.
The poor beast—or was it a thieving bastard? Mark was not sure anymore. In any case, it was still trying to right itself from the state they had left it in or, at the very least, dig its way back toward the water. But Naomi was having none of it.
It was actually rather impressive how well a slip of a girl like her was holding out against such a massive creature. That thing had to outweigh her by a good hundred pounds. Of course, she had taken a few lacerations for her efforts, but she had still managed to grab its whip-like hind-appendage and root her legs sufficient to prevent its escape. Whether she won out in the end was something else entirely.
“Just let it go,” he advised. “It can’t chase us far on land.”
“Are you nuts?!” she barked. “After all the trouble it took to catch it? No way! Now get your ass over here and kill this thing.”
He started to protest. The idea of slaughtering innocent wildlife was not something he particularly relished. But then the practical side of his mind started to lurch back into motion.
They were in a survival situation. There was no telling how many calories the two of them had just burned through, and it was not as if they could pull around to the local drive-through to replenish them. Who was to say when another opportunity like this might fall into their laps?
Besides. People ate turtles. Even enormous… mutant ones… on an alien… planet.
He grimaced. Why was it only now that the possibility of food poisoning was occurring to him?
“Mike!”
He shook his head again and quickly forced himself onto unsteady legs. Whatever had just happened had left his knees feeling like jelly, but he felt sure it would pass. He just needed to get moving again.
Hastily, he took up the thick branch from before and gave it a couple of experimental swings. It would make for a decent enough club, and the beast’s head had been left more than vulnerable.
Now if he could just keep himself from crying…
***
Naomi was nearing complete exhaustion from the swim, the battle, and her subsequent efforts to hold onto their prize. The both of them were bleeding and would likely need medical attention sooner rather than later. And yet she could scarcely contain her excitement.
She had done it! She had hunted… a thing! She had never felt more accomplished in all her life. And soon… soon…!
Memories of her last meal flooded her mind. The exquisite flavor. The near orgasmic sensation of it sliding down her throat. And that did not even touch upon the potential benefits!
There was a tiny corner of her mind that could not help but link the two, as if she were being subjected to some sort of positive reinforcement therapy. To what end, she could not say. Nor did she care to think about it just now. That she would be subjected to it at all only increased the likelihood of her reward! So when the beast finally stopped kicking, she was on it in an instant.
And she had just the tool for the job!
“Where did you get that?” Mike asked, panting and splattered from his efforts.
Naomi readjusted her top quickly. Of course, his eyes would have been attracted there the second she started digging in it, but it was not as if she had pockets. And never mind the brief tingle of pride she had felt.
“Oh, this?” she replied nonchalantly, flourishing the single claw she had managed to recover from the picked-over remains of the chipmunk. “Just something I stumbled on. Figured it would be useful.”
“Nice,” was all he said. Then he plopped onto his backside, completely spent.
She refrained from comment. He had earned his rest.
Distantly, she noted her computer projecting a few items over his head, but she ignored them. She had other things to preoccupy her attention. It had been a struggle to hold herself back even for so brief a conversation, but she had not wanted to appear too eager.
As quick as she could, she began slicing away. Most of the meat was still protected by an impenetrable shell, but there was enough exposed for a quick meal. They could work at freeing the rest later. However, once the thick scales at its neck were cut away… and she laid eyes on the tender fare within…
“Mike,” she began, swallowing with a tongue gone suddenly thick with saliva. There was no part of her that wanted to ask the question, but it had to be done. “You wouldn’t… happen to know how to start a fire, would you?”
He snorted humorlessly. “You got a can of gas and a box of matches hidden in there, too?”
She almost gasped with relief, only just managing to maintain her front. “Why? You think I could pull it off?”
“That depends.”
“On?” Despite herself, she was intrigued. He was skating on thin ice, and she could respect that.
He lifted his head just enough to look at her. “How well can you pull off a British accent?”
“A British…?” She floundered for a moment, her rising hunger momentarily forgotten. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You know… Lara Croft?” He gestured across his chest. “With the gas can?”
She just stared. If that had been a dig, she could not decide why. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”
He flopped back again with a groan. “Oh, come on! Tomb Raider? It’s only one of the most well-known gaming IPs in history.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course, you’re a gamer.”
“Really more of an anime guy… but yeah.” He kicked himself fully upright. “I told you I was a CS major.”
“What you told me was that you were a dropout,” she shot back instantly, shutting him down. “Now, come eat your sashimi.”
He glanced toward the thin slice she had extended as though he had yet to decide whether it was actually food. Which pissed her off to no end. Could he not see how much it was costing her to even offer it? She was practically shaking!
“Is that… safe?” he began.
Her response was to instantly shove it into her own mouth. It was sliding down before she had even registered whether she had chewed. Just as before, the sensation almost brought tears to her eyes, but she could not let herself break down just yet.
“It’s delicious,” she replied. Hopefully, not too emphatically.
“What uh…” He swallowed, edging closer. “What does it taste like?”
She licked her lips and began to shift in her seat. Why was she starting to feel warm? And what was the question? Taste? She was not even sure. Other than perfect. Quick as a flash, she had another slice pulled away and shoved between her teeth, only remembering just in time that she was supposed to be getting a sense of its flavor.
“Tuna?” she hazarded.
In actuality, she could not think of anything that quite matched up. It was fairly unique, but the texture was spot on.
“I’ve never had sashimi, but…” He scooted closer still. “Seared tuna steak is pretty good.”
“Right?!” If this man did not start eating soon, she was going to pry his jaw open and start force-feeding him. This was pure torture!
He hesitated only a moment longer. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try a little. But we really shouldn’t eat too much. Just in case.”
She nodded her quick agreement, well aware of the lie, and extended a morsel toward him. “Of course. Only a little.”
With an apprehensive grimace, he plucked the nugget of deliciousness from her fingers. It physically pained her to let it go, but she needed him in on this. It was one thing to be found out eating like an animal. But if she could make it into a social thing, that would be something else entirely.
Her eyes traced the path of the dripping hunk of meat toward his lips. His waiting tongue. The anticipation of what was to come sent thrills racing up and down her spine. It was… erotic. She could almost feel the flush of her skin. Her quickened breath. Her pulsing—
What was wrong with her? She tried to avert her eyes, but she could not. Her mouth began to gape open in rhythm with his own. A sudden fantasy sprang into her mind… of stealing the flesh from his teeth… the chance meeting of their lips… his strong arms trapping her to his body.
But then flesh met tongue, and she watched as his eyes widened with pleasure.
In that moment, her back arched and a powerful moan ripped unbidden from her lungs.
*
Ah hah! ‘Instinctual genetic acquisition drive!’ Finally!
Let’s see. ‘…intended as a means of spurring…’ Yes, yes…
< pages turning >
‘Error Codes… refer to table 394b?’ And what bloody page is that on? Useless…
< more pages turning >
‘Default settings?’ Sounds promising.
Uh huh… Uh huh…
‘Caution: Must be adjusted to below a maximum of… < inaudible > …all sentient species unless… …covert military appli—!’ Military applications?!
Timothy!
*
Mark stared, only half-conscious of the admittedly delightful slice of turtle he had just swallowed.
“You uh… got some kind of fetish I should know about?” he probed.
Naomi’s look of horror traveled in time with her shaking head, but she did not reply. The hands clamped over her mouth would not let her. But then, she must have reconsidered his question, because her brow knitted into an even more horrified expression.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Right, well… no judgment. People are into all kinds of… strange… kinks. It could be worse. I mean, I’ve heard of guys who stick it into the tailpipes of their—”
“Will you shut up?!” She slapped him none-too-gently on the arm. “It’s not a fetish! I’m obviously being manipulated. That’s all.”
He blinked slowly. “Manipulated? By who? Why? How?”
“Them, of course! I don’t know why, but they want me to enjoy eating… this. And now I want you to enjoy it, too. It’s like a… like a Pavlovian… thing,” she explained, either not noticing or not acknowledging the meat she had continued to wolf down the second her hands had pulled away. It was not until her mouth was full that she even paused. “You want some more?”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Yes,” he replied without a moment’s hesitation.
A delighted smile overcame her features, and she began alternating her own cutlets with a few choice morsels for him… which she eagerly watched him consume despite her deflections.
“So… what? The government is running an experiment that gets you uh… drooling over food?” He did not quite manage to suppress his smirk.
She favored him with a withering glare before flicking a bit of gore at him. “Us, Mike. Us. I saw the way you were lusting after those fruit.”
“I don’t know about lusting…”
“Uh huh. Anyway, we’re way past the government, now. You saw what was in that reef, the same as I did. In fact…”
She glanced over her shoulder to take in their new island. Most of the plant-life was similar, but there were now a few trees sprinkled into the mix. Bizarrely, they did not have any leaves. Each branch was instead lined with long and narrow fronds running the length of them, almost like sword blades. It gave them a spindly appearance.
“Mike, I’ve never even heard of trees like that.”
All he could do was shrug. It was not as if this was a new revelation. On his end, anyway.
“Like I said before…” He wiggled his fingers creepily. “Aliens.”
She glanced away, miffed. “You should try not to speak so fatly.”
He decided to let that one go, not yet familiar enough with her game of verbal sparring to cross swords. “Is that you admitting you were wrong?”
“It’s me cutting you off from eating anymore.”
He sat forward quickly. “What?!”
“Ah ha! Admit it.” She fixed him with an accusatory glare. “Your heart lurched at that. Didn’t it?”
He sat back again. The effort it took to convince himself she was just teasing was telling. “Okay… maybe you have a point. But what of it?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” She glanced over his head, staring at something. “How full are you right now?”
“Not very. Why?”
She quickly handed him another piece. “Would you say about… halfway?”
“I dunno. Maybe,” he said, swallowing, then narrowed his eyes. “You seeing another bar?”
“Two actually. The first one’s full and flashing at me.” She gave him a searching glance. “Looks like I was wrong about what that one meant. Thankfully. But you should know… there’s a button above it.”
He grimaced. The last time she had been presented with a button, they had spent the better part of a half hour with their collective heads between their knees.
“I guess… see what it wants?” he said, stealing himself. “If we’re going to lose our lunch, I’d prefer not to already be finished with it.”
Her face began to twitch. Clearly, she did not like the sound of that any more than he did. Losing any part of their hard-won spoils was sending waves of revulsion coursing through him. However, she quickly gave her head a firm shake.
“There’s… no way we could eat this whole thing in a sitting anyway,” she reasoned uncomfortably. “Just try not to yak on it. Okay?”
He nodded. “Do it.”
***
As though reaching for a live wire, Naomi hesitantly extended her finger toward the button. Her stomach felt as steady as a rock—which was the only reason she had enough confidence to do this—but if it betrayed her, she might never forgive it. It was a silly thing to get hung up about but here she was. Knowing you were being emotionally manipulated and doing something about it were two totally different things. It was not as if she could just shut her feelings out.
So with a steadying swallow, she gave the little circle a tap.
What came next was a bit of a letdown after all the buildup. The button simply expanded, filling her vision with several crude drawings and a new button beside each. It did not take long to figure out what she was looking at, and with realization came a fresh rush of excitement.
“My reward!” she breathed. “I get to choose?”
“Reward?” Mike echoed—distantly to her ears. “What kind of—wait I thought this was for my—?”
He said more, but she did hear the rest. Her attention was fully absorbed with finding the option she had wanted. The one she had been craving.
To be fair, most of the drawings were nonsensical gibberish. Had it not been for their previous experiences, she would never have understood these for the offers they were. There was one of a person extending their arms to the rising sun. A man placing his hand on the chest of another for no apparent reason. Several hand-drawn diagrams of what might have been fungi. Someone fighting off mosquitoes… with armpit sweat?
However, there were only two that warranted even a moment’s consideration and that only because of how bizarre the one was. On the surface, it might have provided a solution to their injury problem… if it were not for how uniquely plant-like it was. She certainly did not want to start budding new limbs from her joints.
So she scarcely hesitated in slapping her palm to the last—a man standing tall and strong, the picture of health.
The instant she did, her entire body seized into the most wretched cramp she had ever experienced, which was saying something. Even so, it was nothing next to the howls coming from her companion.
If she were honest, she had temporarily forgotten he was still there, too absorbed by her decision to notice. But now that she had, she had to admit to a certain amount of guilt. Whatever she had done was affecting him far worse than it was herself. His every limb had contorted and twisted, practically on the verge of breaking. His back had arched horribly, and his face was locked into a rictus of pain. Then, there came a resounding crack, and he seemed to relax… somewhat.
“Dammit, Naomi!” Mike croaked into the sand. “What did you do?!”
“It was the most normal-looking one,” she grunted defensively—which was true enough despite her motivations. “I swear. I had no idea—ack!”
Both her legs had begun to snap and crackle like someone had embedded fireworks into them, yet strangely, she felt no pain. If anything, it felt as though each were releasing little microcosms of built up stress. It felt… kind of great! Momentarily, anyway. Then, the pressure would build up again, and she had to grit her teeth until the next wave of popping relieved the tension. Then again… and again…
It was exhausting and exhilarating in equal measure. Distantly, she began to wonder what it might be like to be manhandled during something like this. To have a pair of strong hands working at her tensing muscles, pulling at her at precisely the right moment…
An epic shot fired from the base of her spine, coinciding perfectly with the thought and sending reports of pleasure radiating outward from her center. Her mind forcefully latched onto the daydream. No longer was she simply writhing in the sand. She was relaxing in a sumptuous massage parlor, surrounded by throngs of huge, beastly men. Working at her. Molding her. Kneading her oiled flesh.
Foremost among them was Mike, tall and strong. His well-built chest was carpeted by richly curled hair, and all of it drew the eyes downward toward his massive… throbbing…
She swallowed thickly. Almost without thought, her diminutive hand reached forward to encircle it. She was hungry… so very hungry! If she could have just a taste…
Another series of pops reverberated through her shoulder blades and hips, and she rocked with ecstasy. But that allowed her head to finally clear, and she scolded herself for the treacherous thoughts. There was no way she would ever allow such a thing to happen. His was just a convenient face, she told herself. A flight of fancy.
Her body was still popping and creaking in random places, driving aftershocks of pleasure through her core, but she felt as though the worst was over. Well enough to sit up, anyway.
Realization was slow in coming, but come it did. That… had been her reward. She had simply made her decision… and changed. Right there. On the spot.
And it had been amazing!
She licked lips gone suddenly dry. Maybe too amazing. Coupled with her little eating compulsion, it was not difficult to draw a conclusion as to why. Not the big Why. No, never that. But the small ones?
She was to eat. And through that, to change. Become… better.
But at the very least, she had some measure of control over it. She had been given choices. Not well explained choices, but choices nonetheless. It was a small comfort.
Better yet if she could choose not to choose. She doubted it would let her—whatever ‘it’ might be. Certainly not human beings, that much was clear. She had not been tranquilized. There had been no team of medical professionals. Whatever ‘they’ had done to her, they had done it already, and left her to deal with the consequences.
But what had been done? Slowly, almost fearfully, she looked down at herself. From her perspective, she could not tell much difference. There were two arms. Two legs. She could see the muscles continuing to twitch and shiver beneath her skin from her recent ordeal, but if she was any stronger, she could not tell at a glance. She was still pretty sore, but overall, she felt much the same as before.
Disappointingly.
She gave her head a quick shake. That was not something to feel disappointed about. Now if only she could convince herself of that…
Absently, she pulled at her bra. It was starting to dry now from her swim, and she could feel it cutting into her chest. Her underwear too, now that she thought about it, particularly at her thighs.
It was at that point, her head cleared enough to finally become aware of the grunting and popping still coming from her chance companion. Whatever the actual effects of the choice she had made, he was still in its throes… and showed no signs of stopping any time soon.
She had to admit to a twinge of jealousy at the realization. But it did at least afford her the opportunity to watch and consider the implications. If the second bar over his head was any indication, this would not be the last time they went through this.
“Hold on. If that bar is for the turtle meat, and the one I just used was from the Corpse Flower fruit…” She grimaced, momentarily distracted by what she now realized was a mislabeling but, as they had no other name for the plant, it would have to suffice.
The salient point, however, was that she had not been the one to actually eat them. Mike had. Or… technically, she had eaten one, but certainly not in the quantities he had. That might explain why she had received less of a reward, though. She would have to look out for that in the future.
So then… how much qualified as enough? Certainly, the bar was the indicator, but that only told her when he qualified for a change. Not her.
Idly, she tried searching over her own head but found nothing.
“But what about the chipmunk?” she mused.
She had not been given a choice then but had still somehow managed to trigger their changes just by indulging herself. Mike had not even eaten any of it! But then… he had not been the one to get stronger. Sure, he had lost some weight, but that could be explained by his rapid healing.
“Maybe because it was a life and death situation?”
That was the only reasonable explanation she could think of. She had needed to be stronger to get him into his pod. That did little to clear up their present situation nor tell her how she was supposed to go about triggering her own improvements short of force-feeding Mike, but it did indicate a certain flexibility in the rules. If the situation was dire enough, compromises could be made. Which was good to know.
But what about their current injuries? The turtle had managed to stab her several times, and she had sustained multiple lacerations to her legs. With everything else going on, she had happily ignored them—yet another thing to watch out for. These improvements were nice, but she could not allow herself to get so caught up in them she lost sight of something important. However, on examination, she found her injuries to have already scabbed over, looking weeks on the mend.
“Maybe the change also helps heal wounds?”
It was a reasonable assumption. Given what she had seen so far, a little healing should have been no trouble. It might have even explained why she had so readily ignored her injuries. Under normal circumstances, they should have been all she could think about. That was the whole point of pain, after all.
The base of her skull gave one final pop, and the shiver of release rolling down her spine pulled her back to the present. With an effortless hop, she came to her feet again, marveling at how loose and spry she felt. There was no soreness. No residual aches or pains. True to the picture’s word, she felt completely healthy. Almost to an absurd degree.
A satisfied little smile began to tug at her lips, but then her gut squelched its dissatisfaction, ruining the mood. While the changes were nice, they seemed to come packaged with a bottomless pit for a stomach.
She sent a thoughtful glance at the still-considerable remains of the turtle before casting her eyes back to Mike. His contortions had left him in a cartoonishly inappropriate pose—face down, ass up, as they called it. He was still snapping and popping away though and showed no signs of stopping any time soon.
“Mike?” she called, giving him a bit of a shove.
He toppled with a thump into the sand and rolled to his back, from the glazed look in his eyes, completely lost to the world. It was immediately obvious that he had lost weight again… however…
She gently sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, all thoughts of sneaking in a quick meal fleeing like fog before the noon-day sun.
“So…” she purred as her earlier fantasy sprang unbidden to her mind. “Seems we’re enjoying ourselves.”
He did not reply. She was not even sure he was conscious. But her urge to sneak a peak at the… admittedly-large bulge straining against the confines his shorts was not quite so overwhelming as to risk it. If she were caught, he might just decide to force the issue.
Not an altogether unpleasant thought, but still…
She sucked in a deep breath to dispel the image… only to be met with a particularly alarming sound.
Her bra had just ripped!
Eyes wide, she swiveled away from Mike—in case he was more aware than he looked—and began to search for the tear. But there were two: one just above the elastic along her ribs and the other where it dipped beneath her arm. Fortunately the elastic itself seemed intact… though only just. Now that she was looking, it was easy to see just how much strain the whole garment was under. Every part of it was digging into her skin by a significant amount, and she was feeling… slightly more compressed than normal.
She cast another suspicious glare toward Mike before scurrying to the other side of the turtle. Feeling safer now, she pulled the garment up to examine her girls… only to be met by a pleasant bounce. They had never bounced before! Sure, they had a bit of a jiggle if she shook them enough, but a whole bounce?!
Quickly, she surged to her feet—then dropped the next instant, her face crimson. She had nearly forgotten herself in her excitement.
Then her underwear popped.
Frozen in horror, her eyes slowly traveled downward. She did not have to search for this one. She had felt it. The rapid squat had overtaxed the elastic, and the leg holes had simply exploded form the pressure. Now both sides were hanging in tatters, ripped cleanly up to the waistband.
“What the fuck?!”
*
Your uncle?! Again?
..—
Bugger the budget! The whole series was intended to revolve around the effects of the VENUS device on a pre-interstellar species. That was the one thing we could not afford to skimp on!
…!
Yes, that is abundantly obvious now. How did your uncle even get access to military grade firmware? No! Never mind. I don’t want to know. We’re just going to have to pull the plug. It’ll be an incredible loss, but once we recover the devices, we should be able to—
…? …!
Wait, what? What are you talking about?
…
Are you perfectly serious?
…!
…
…
How much are we talking?