Where shall I start. Lots of stories start with a description of the sex interest, in this case, Janey, who is a natural blonde, not too tall, but with a bouncy body and personality that means that men's eyes tend to follow her, and women (wrongly) see her as an airhead bimbo. Alternatively, I could try to grab your attention by describing the way that Janey and I found ourselves furiously fucking each other on the forest floor, our clothes in ragged tatters. But no, I think that I will start with the only part of this story that you might have heard about, the most expensive meal of the century.
I know that there are rumours about the meal, even though all the diners, chefs, waiters and other staff were sworn to secrecy. Janey and I were not there, but we did watch it on closed circuit television, and some of the stories I have heard are gross exaggerations. Many of the richest people in the world had paid to be there, and many of the most decorative ones were invited. It is true that many of the former did end the meal intimately entwined in the latter, but most of this entwining was done quite privately in hotel rooms or in the curtained off booths, and not, as reported, in full view, on top of the tables amongst the food. It is true that two people died, but this was purely as a result of their exertions, and they did not die in the dining room, but upstairs afterwards.
All in all, the event was really quite tame. Even though, it has meant that Janey and I can afford whatever we want for as long as we choose to keep the supply going. Some of those rich diners have paid us a huge amount. I wonder if that would have been the case if they knew the full story.
Who am I? You will have seen my name on the television if you read the credits after some old nature programmes. If you watch those sort of programmes you might also recognise Janey's real name. Of course, we are both now living under assumed names - there are too many people who would like to take what we have on offer without paying. Our neighbours think we both work from home for some company in the City.
Janey was never an airhead. Yes, she used her looks to her advantage, she would have been stupid not to and as I have said, she was not stupid. She had studied Biological Sciences at university, got a first, and gone on to get her PhD. After that, she had problems. She had been employed by a large company, she thought, to do research for them. Her employer, however, thought that he was paying her for other matters biological. When he groped her to get what he thought he was due, she took appropriate offence, and got the sack. It was all settled out of court, and she got a tidy sum from him, but she found it very hard to get another research job afterwards.
She started to do a little free-lance work on the television. She lived off her looks, not her knowledge. She would not, however, submit to the casting couch, and that is perhaps why she did not get the big breaks.
When I met her she was fronting a series of nature programmes for children. It was cut-price stuff. I know how much they were paying me as a cameraman. She was bored.
She asked me if I would be interested in working for her. She was thinking of investing the remains of her payout on producing a proper series of nature programmes. She was not thinking of the large scale David Attenborough sort of thing, more the educational stuff that is used on remote learning courses.
We were a team of two. People thought that we were a couple in more ways than that, and it puzzled them. "What could a gorgeous lass like her see in a much older overweight slob like me?" They were right. There was nothing sexual between us. As far as I know, she was totally uninterested in sex, unless it was the subject of an episode. She regarded the male of the species with considerable disgust, which was not surprising, considering the way men had tried to treat her.
I now know that she had still been a virgin.
We were trying to film an endangered species of nocturnal rodent. We had an infra-red camera. We had found what we believed was an active burrow, and had slowly built a shelter nearby to allow us to hide. Our cameras were mounted around the burrow, and we were monitoring them from our shelter. I think that we must have disturbed the creature; We caught a couple of glimpses of it at the start, but it must then have moved to another burrow.
Janey and I sat in our shelter staring at the monitors. That night it rained, and the mist rising off the damp ground made the chance of filming very unlikely. The two of us sat on a log, leaning against a tree buttress, trying to keep alert. There was an overpowering scent coming from somewhere which made us drowsy. We slept.
I awoke first. It was dawn. I felt lousy, as if I had a hangover. My whole body ached. I tried to stand up. It was then that I realised that my trousers were rotten. I put my hands on my knees to try to help me to stand up and the thick fabric just shredded under my fingers. You know what it looks like when you break a piece of really rotten wood. The wood fibres look almost normal, but there are threads of fungus entwined though it, and all strength was gone. My trousers were like that. Then I noticed that the fungus threads were all over my skin as well. I tried to stand, but I was fused to the log. As I strained, I realised that I was in a serious state. The threads had grown half way up my chest, and had gone inside me. I felt as if I was in the middle of shitting out a really big compacted turd. Not only that, but my penis was distended. Threads had grown up inside it, and had then thickened up. Looking down, I could see a white string, as thick as a pencil, tying my penis to the log.
"Janey. Wake up. Please help me."
Eventually I managed to shout loud enough to wake her. She screamed. If anything, she was worse off than me. She tried to struggle. All her lower clothing fell off as she moved, Her vulva was gaping, stretched open by an enormous rope of the fibres.
"I've been raped. It's buggering me. " she wept. "Do something you useless bastard" That was addressed to me.
She tried to grab hold of the rope and pull it out but she screamed in pain. We both panicked, struggled, and strained to no result. Slowly we calmed down and started to try to think. My penknife would have helped. I could see it just out of reach where it had rolled when my trouser pocket had disintegrated.
Janey had the best idea. She managed to get her bra off, and to pull out the underwiring. With this she tried to scratch at her tether, but it seemed to regrow as fast as she gouged at it.
She slumped hopelessly. The sun climbed behind the trees. All we could do was stare at each other.
About mid morning the first direct rays of the sun shot through our shelter's doorway. We watched it crawl it across the floor. When it reached us we thought we were going the have severe sunburn to add to our misery, but no, when the sun started illuminating the fungus is started to change colour. It changed to a golden yellow, and started to become powdery and to fall away in puffs of dust. It was a slow process, but gradually we felt our tethers shrink. My penis and arse started to feel less stretched. Finally my penis was free, and I was able to squirm round and reach my penknife. At last, I managed to slice through my fungus turd and to painfully stand up. I passed the knife to Janey, who hacked through her dildo. She could not reach her own nether tie, and so she gave me the knife and eventually I freed her, and helped her to stand.
We were both desperately thirsty. I found our plastic water bottles, but they were covered in the threads, and the plastic left was little more than a cobweb. We supported each other to stagger the quarter mile or so back to where our tents were pitched. We were barefoot, our boots had disintegrated. Each step moved and stretched our oricices. We were more or less naked. I gave the remains of my shirt to Janey, I just wore a hat. There were golden ropes or strings dangling from both our crotches.
Back at our camp we drank a large proportion of our stock of water between us. Soon after, as we re-hydrated, we thought that we had made a serious mistake, as the thtrads seemed to revive and swell again, increasing our discomfort. But soon I found myself needing to pee, and as I strained to do so, the thread in my penis seemed to dissolve and fall away. An hour later, Janey tugged at the rope coming out between her legs and it moved.
It hurt her, but eventually it came free. She examined the revealed end. Quite calmly she showed it to me. "There is still stuff inside me. This looks like the stalk of a fruiting body, If it was a mushroom then the cap is still in there. I picked up and examined my rectal stalk. It was similar.
"What will it do?" I asked.
"I don't know. Typically, it would ripen, and then eject millions of spores. "
"Then what?"
"Then it would try to distribute the spores."
"We are the carriers?"
"Yep."
"What can we do?"
"Not a clue."
We stood and looked around us. We both felt tired. Strangely tired.
"I'm going to rest."
"Are you hungry?"
"No, are you?"
"No."
We both crawled into the shade of our tents. We rested, but did not sleep.
