Seed Ch 01

The sickle moon shall fell thee

If the Mere's waters touch thee

For Shokushu will take thee

The Mere seemed as old as time itself. Older than the town, older than the fields and forest, older still than the very hills themselves. When this world had yet to be formed, a desolate rock in a desolate corner of a desolate universe, perhaps the Mere was already there. Deep. No plummet had ever sounded its depths. Immeasurable. It had been the incomprehensible knowledge of a mere few people that had built this place, yet even their insight did not stretch to understanding the Mere. The Mere was where Shokushu lived. Cold and ancient.

An old story, designed to keep children from the city in the hills running down to the water, swimming and drowning. You see, children do not understand undercurrents, shoals, cold and the peculiar nature of such large bodies of water, but they understand monsters. You heard the children singing the rhyme mockingly in the school-yard. Yet it worked, nobody swam in the Mere.

We were not young and foolish enough to believe in monsters, we were not old and clever enough to believe in science either. And we were quietly rebellious. Upon Friday evening, Elissa and I set off from home together, travelling to meet our lovers at the city gate. And upon Friday evening, Hebe and Leuce set off from home together, travelling to meet their lovers at the city gate. Elissa met Hebe and I Leuce. Four girls heading from the town to fulfil a romance the provost would not accept and called sinful.

We took little with us, merely the clothes we had on our backs, a Ronson lighter and each a cashmere blanket to sleep under. Elissa, of the wild auburn tresses, sang as we walked along the lane that led away from the town, down hill amongst the meadows and fields of wildflowers. The hedges along the verges grew high here, filled with brambleberries, blaeberries and the occasional strawberry, which quiet Hebe picked as we went by, lifting her dress skirts to carry them, showing the slender legs that Elissa adored. Beautiful Leuce simply laughed and danced in the warmth of the setting sun, her delicate features catching the light, or her slim silhouette cutting a perfect figure. And I, Pomona, I told stories; of new things, of old things and of things of no time at all. At eighteen, all the worlds were ours.

At the stile over the gate we turned, heading along the winding path, merely a serpentine route through the meadow, where the grass had been flattened down a little. Up the field, cows gazed lazily down upon us, sat or stood as ancient gods. The track guided us to the forest, and we removed our shoes and socks to ford the stream that crossed our route. We did not put our them back on, but instead walked barefoot, for the ground was covered in a soft carpet of pine needles. We took to collecting pine nuts as we walked and trying to catch the call of birds and name them.

And in the forest lay the old stones, which seemed to glow maraschino red in the dying daylight. We undressed, folded our clothes and placed them in the care of the rocks, hidden underneath their massy bulks. And when we turned to face each other again we giggled coquettishly, smiled and ran our hands over each others' soft forms, becoming re-acquainted with what we had missed. No matter how hard we tried at night, we could never perfectly recollect what the other truly looked, felt, smelt and, when I kissed Leuce's lips, neck and hair, what they tasted like. There we promised upon the old stones that we would keep from surrendering to passion until we lay to bed and, for now, to stay pure, until we could wash ourselves in the cool waters of the Mere.

And we recommenced walking, no longer singing, dancing, gathering fruit or talking, simply whispering, kissing and holding each other as we travelled.

And the forest thinned and the pine needles turned to sand and then shingle as we came to the Mere. We hobbled a little at first, as the round blue pebbles rolled under our feet, and shivered as a cool breeze swept off the water. As a grey mirror it lounged in the cleft between the beach and the distant pike upon the opposite shore. We lay our blankets upon the ground, a little up from the water's edge and playfully gathered firewood from the fallen branches at the forest's edge. The sun slipped beneath the horizon and the strange stars seemed to turn on. We built a fire and then swam in the water.

We did not swim far from the shore. The floor of the Mere fell away slowly until I could only just stand upon the bottom. Then it suddenly dropped about thirty strokes from the shoreline. Leuce tried to dive down and bring a pebble from the very bottom at that depth. She was gone nearly a minute, and when she surfaced she seemed half-drowned and weary. She told us that she felt as if she had swum downwards for hours, but not seen the bottom. I kissed her and told her it was okay and helped her to the beach to recover. The water was unbelievably cold, beyond any cold we had ever felt, even in the depths of winter, but we enjoyed the effect the frigidity had upon our bodies. Our nipples hardening, crotches unexpectedly pleasured, shivering. When we climbed out, we ate what we had collected, dried each other around the fire and wrapped ourselves in blankets. And we made love under the harvest moon, doing all the things we could never back home. Leuce and I traded in unbearable ecstasy for such time until each flood of appeasement became sweet agony.

Then we lay back and gazed at the stars that seemed to gaze back down upon us.

Elissa said each was another sun, with other worlds full of other people living upon them, yet she would go there one day and take all of us too.

Hebe said each was the soul of someone who had died, transfixed upon the heavens to watch down upon the world they had left.

Leuce said each was an angel, protecting the world from harm, glowing white hot because of their holiness.

I did not know which was true, yet wished all of them were.

Then we slept, knotted in the limbs of our lovers, tired and satisfied, the fire built high enough to last until dawn. There were still wolves in the hills back then, and we had no intention of meeting them.

The sickle moon shall fell thee

If the Mere's waters touch thee

For Shokushu will take thee

And Shokushu will have thee

I woke.

The world came into bleary focus.

Nothing.

I settled back into the warmth of my three sisters, sliding downwards at the same rate that my mind slid towards sleep.

Suddenly, a wind came up, a harsh gust carrying a sickly smell that tasted bitter. Coming off the water it stretched out and extinguished the fire we had built with such care. It sank back down. The water was still. I stood, trying not to wake Elissa, Hebe and Leuce, attempting to locate the Ronson lighter to restart the fire. I cast about for it for a while, but found nothing, it had probably rolled underneath one of the sleepers.

Thud.

Less a sound, more a sudden blast of air that threw me to the floor, my head cracking against a particularly large stone. There was blackness for a moment.

I came to with a headache like the drums of a wild folk dance. I felt something about my left ankle and I drunkenly sat to see what it was.

I screamed.

What could only be described as a tentacle gripped my leg. Dull blue in the half-light and slowly coiling about my ankle. It had an air of unmistakable malice. Another approached my right leg. As fast as I could move I reached to pull them away. I did not know what creature had such limbs as these but I did not desire to have it touch my body.

Hopeless.

Their clasp was like steel, or stronger. My feet were held in inhuman manacles that refused to relinquish their grip. More tentacles writhed across the floor, reaching to my wrists and taking savage hold.

I tried to scream again.

It was cut short as a fifth slammed into my open mouth with such force that it threw me back to lying down. My cries were conclusively muffled. And from there I was manoeuvred into a star position, arms and legs stretched so wide that it felt as if I were to be ripped apart. At such a terrifying proximity I saw that my first description of 'tentacle' had been off the mark. They were more like vines, and in my state of shock I observed how they flowed like water, yet resisted movement with the strength of rock. Everything came into terrifying focus. Each vine-tentacle was lined with serrated thorns and hairs that shredded human flesh, and it seemed to be covered in something like formic acid; every inch of skin they touched they turned to burning nettle rashes.

They seemed to be driven by one mind and, glancing around I noticed that Elissa and Leuce were similarly held, as was Hebe who was crying. The sickle moon. The Mere. The child's story. Shokushu.

There were hundreds of them now, pouring out of the water with what appeared to be relish. They noticed that I watched them and flooded towards me, binding my head with a crown of thorns.

They snaked across my body, appearing to cross me simply for the warmth of my skin, or heartbeat or breath. The one in my mouth squirmed and I fought back an urge to be sick. It pushed backwards down my throat, deeper and deeper and I heaved. I tried to bite upon it, but was met with metal. It was warm and tasted with a disgusting bitterness. The ones that held me in place grasped tightly, I could almost feel my bones crack underneath the brute strength.

The bitterness in my mouth grew stronger and I sensed a monstrous liquid seeping from the horrible vine. I tried not to swallow but it became impossible, and I soon had to drink continuously upon vast quantities of this alien humour, which seemed to burn as it ran to my stomach. As I did so I felt a familiar warmth grow between my legs, a warmth that grew the more I drank. I tried once more to resist, but instead the tentacle pushed deeper, until it had no need of my swallowing, the liquid travelling directly into my gut and spilling from between my lips.

Meanwhile, the other limbs had not ceased in whatever unholy endeavour they were set upon. A group converged upon my breasts, some performing circuits and others brushing across my nipples. Noose-like, the circling vines tightened and I choked, as they held my breasts in a hold just as tight as that of my wrists and ankles. The thorns began digging deeply into the skin, each was a mound of agony.

The ones upon my nipples snapped into animation, thorns biting into my areolae and I felt some liquid surge through them into my breasts, like an injection. They pulled away with a mechanical efficiency and I felt what seemed like suckers to affix themselves about each nipple. The tentacles about my breast began to squeeze and relax rhythmically and the suckers commenced suckling. Shocked, I realised what was happening: I was being milked!

More of the liquid flooded into my stomach and I felt myself relax and become unable to resist. Furthermore, a terrible urge was building between my thighs, a desire I had never felt so strong. I longed for Leuce's tongue to relieve me but she was trapped in the same torture as I.

Then there was a soft brush between my legs as if many vines were moving up between them.

No!

Not that! The first tentacle just touched my fourchette and, weakly, I struggled. Pointless. Immeasurably strong was my captor and I very weak. Soon others began to explore the warmth that they found there. Thin tendrils examined my labia majora and, the more inquisitive, menora. Others went below my perineum and discovered the cleft of my buttocks, opening them wide to gain a better view. It was like the fingers of hundreds of lovers gently pleasuring me below while a vicious torture was occurring above. I whimpered.

Slam. Slam.

Two thick tentacles thrust viciously into me, one inside my vagina, the other between my buttocks. I began to cry. The soft touch of the tendrils had been replaced with the savage ripping of their thorns and burning of their poisons. The broader tentacles travelled as far as they could in one single hammer blow and then pushed deeper and deeper within me.

Unexpectedly, I came. I had not noticed its approach, having been terrified and in shock but it happened with a thunderbolt suddenness that left me reeling. The world turned pink and I could not help but for my body to convulse with sheer ecstasy.

And agony. The tentacles felt as if they were filling my entire body, writhing inside me grotesquely, pushing, questing and driving ever deeper, seeming to expand, like balloons being filled with water. No sooner than one climax had come, but another appeared on the horizon.

Slam. Slam.

I gave a muffled scream of pure pain. Two further vines joined the ones within me, two for each orifice. They began to move within me, pneumatically diving rapidly inwards and outwards, thorns and needles tearing within to shreds. They moved mechanically, but not rhythmically, and that was the worst part, they hit me unexpectedly, or I was left feeling empty when a thrust failed to come. That was my body: a playground for these strange flailing limbs. Fluid still seeped into my stomach, vines still bit into my wrists, ankles and breasts, I was still being milked, tortured by the touch of the small tendrils and still violently raped.

Another climax, unwanted pleasure. I nearly suffocated as I screamed. I heard Elissa cry out before being cut silent. The only other noise was the hush of the water and the tangle of tentacular limbs. And still the strange stars gazing down from above, watching. During that time that was all I knew; the water, stars, pain and suffocation.

My body burnt throughout, pale skin made bloody. I seemed to bleed from everywhere and prayed for death. Even the hell the provost said would be prepared for us would be favoured over this.

Another climax. I had given up screaming. I convulsed, leapt, yes. But I made no noise, devoid of all hope, devoid of all chance of relief. All I knew was that the torture would continue, the water would continue and the stars will continue. And as I am turned to pulp and worn into dust nothing about my plight will change.

Another climax. And another. And another. No pleasure there anymore. Simply a new flavour of agony. How many? Six? Twenty? A hundred? The tentacle's milk which filled my belly and the hormones that filled my veins had put paid to any chance of comprehension. I was tossed like a rag doll from orgasm to orgasm.

Another squadron of tendrils squeezed into me between thrusts of the pair within my cleft of Venus. My urethra, they dived upwards, moving with a terrible vigour. And they found my bladder, released it gently so my sore wounds were washed in hot salinity, searing worse than the poison of the tentacles. Then within, to places I did not know I had, lodging deep within me in some unfathomable quarter of my innards.

Another climax. There was nothing really; the orgasm simply becoming part of the torture, a sea of unbearable experience. And a voice: Enjoying yourself, silly little girl? A voice within my own mind.

Another climax. Praying isn't going to help you, silly little girl.

As old as time itself, the consciousness behind all of these: Shokushu. Ah, you know me, good, silly little girl. Thief!

And with this all the tentacles swelled, from the very largest which continued beating into me, to the smallest that had delved deeper than my bladder. Another orgasm and my body was Shokushu's.

Murderer! The tentacles wrapped me even further and the vine in my mouth began to thrust in and out so I could hardly breathe. My flesh was crosshatched with open wounds.

Genocide! I was pulled up to the edge of the Mere, so the lapping water washed with my hair and Shokushu seemed to threaten with drowning.

Satan! I was spun with sickening rapidity to face Hebe, Elissa and Leuce. And that was the worst part, my beautiful sisters tormented faces, savaged bodies, destroyed minds. Hebe's face was empty; I could see that there was nothing behind her eyes, the same look that the cows had given us earlier. I glanced down and saw that her soft round breasts were being milked just as mine were. Was that how Shokushu saw us?

Elissa was weeping heavily, her expression a map of every agony done unto her. I saw how blood oozed down the reciprocating tentacles between her legs, black in the moon. Were we just sex slaves?

Leuce, dear Leuce, had obviously struggled, her head was a mass of wounds and she hung it in shame. That foul liquid ran from between her lips, mingling with tears and blood. I still loved her.

You still lover her? Silly little girl!

I saw the orgasm happen, first Hebe, then Elissa, Leuce and finally me, timed so the others would see at least two others. It was dreadful, the biting torture still ensuing.

This is what I think of you, silly little girls!

Bulges were growing in the two tentacles that led into each of our vaginas. I could feel the ones in mine coiling up inside my womb and then restlessly uncoiling. The bulges moved towards us, within us.

Silly little girls! Your people took my world, poisoned it, killed my sisters. But you will give us life once more despite your silly little girls' bodies.

And the final word was punctuated by another climax.

Pretty silly little girls. Call me "mummy" and I will let you go.

In my mind I screamed "mummy" at the top of my voice.

Good, silly pretty little girl.

Then a rushing noise and agony.

It was if a machine gun had opened fire within my womb, bladder and anus. Thorny pellets the size of bullets scoured inside me: inside each of us. The seed.

I passed out.