The Week of the Comet Ch. 03

THE WEEK OF THE COMET

or How I Became Teratosexual

*

Chapter III

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"If you like ramen noodles so much, you're gonna love college."

In the end I still don't know how much they understand us. When I talk to Gary, he understands, but I wonder if all he sees isn't just some cavewoman going 'HABUABUABUAH.'

Nevertheless I chewed the fat the whole ride to Yellow Forest and it's a fond memory, and you're gonna ask: Ester, did you sing a song at some point? Of course we did, fuck you.

The little shit woke me up at 6am. Gnawing my feet and my hair. He was hungry.

He ate. I didn't know what I was gonna do with all these packets of seasoning powder.

If only eating was the only thing he did. I thought I could leave him in front of Peppa Pig, just ten minutes, just a shower. When I came back I found the fridge open, my laptop had blue screened of death, all the dirt from my potted plants was spilled on the floor, and the couch was on fire.

Anyway. My hair smelled like smoke but anyway. He was eating on the passenger seat and I was talking.

I did some thinking out loud. Planned my day out. One-hour drive. One-hour walk to the temple. It's (Fuuuck, kill meee) 6:48am, so I could be back for lunch. Left me two hours for--I blushed--feeding Big Pinkie.

I talked about Olivia.

Relationships between futanari are either all-out war or sisterhood, there's no middle ground. We have such an unhinged sex drive we have to bond over it if we don't want to resent each other like people after a bad breakup.

Obviously I left out the sex drive part; I told Gary how one night she cried on my shoulder because she was homesick.

Luv this fut'.

I mentioned her because my walk down to the car this morning should have been covert and uneventful, with no one around to notice Jigglypuff in my backpack, but no no no no no, of course we intersected with Miss Olivia Baker. Of course she liked to jog on Sunday morning. She looked like a fucking fitness video from the nineties.

"Hey, Ester, what's up?"

"Oh my God, Livia, what are the odds?"

"You're up early, what the fuck?"

"Haha. I didn't sleep," I lied.

"Oh, I see." wink wink

I threw the backpack into the car. It squeaked but I was already fastening my seatbelt, slamming the door, starting the engine, saying, "Seeya." Yes, all at the same time.

She watched me leave in a plume of dust.

And here we were, me talking to Gary. About exam week; about how anchovies are my favorite pizza topping; how my great-great-uncle died squashed under a grand piano, like a cartoon character; how they had recently discovered another Antikythera mechanism off the coasts of Ireland. Also apologizing to him in some way, because I was just a kid like him and I couldn't take care of him. Especially if he kept trying to set my apartment on fire, or kept lovebiting my hand every time I changed gear. (They drive sticks in Capparosæ.)

The only time I didn't bombard him with my blabbing was when I flipped through the radio channels for a good song and heard the news that the king was in the hospital.

Apparently Leupold VI had had a stroke. Political leaders all over the world were sending their support. Except for the Prime Minister of Latvaria, who died last week.

Anyway, after that, we sang, Gary and I, and you haven't truly lived until you've had a kid slime peep along with you to Mariah Carey.

* * * * * *

8am on a Sunday morning, the parking lot was deserted.

It was already seventeen degrees out here, not a cloud in sight, it was going to be a nice day.

Celsius. Yeah.

I perched Gary on my shoulder, set my GPS, and ten minutes later I was cursing at the pair of sneakers I had to wear since some doucher had kicked my hiking boots into a lake.

I see you on campus I deck you!

The long walk to the temple was a long talk. Again interrupted once:

We heard a low hum, which got me looking around and then looking up. To the point that I almost started to believe, for a second, that some kind of giant hornet was flying over us. And then there it was, hovering right ahead. A drone.

Not the kind you can buy on Amazon. Definitely military.

It locked on us, for like five seconds, before steering away.

I said us but Gary crawled out from under my jacket after it was gone, I'm pretty sure he had hidden in time.

"You know what, Gary? Ever since we had this comet up there, people around the world see UFOs everywhere. More than usual, I mean. So now I guess we have the answer: it's drones they see."

I walked on, reconsidered what I had just said.

And thus I added, "Unless there are drones because there are UFOs out there."

Moving onward, ever deeper into the woods, I observed the silence becoming inescapable, the flowers getting scarcer, and my nervousness growing. I talked till the end. Until Gary hopped down my shoulder and walked ahead of me, calling out for his... tribe?

There was the clearing a few hundred yards away, I could see the blue sky filtering. It was a matter of minutes now. In five minutes I would ditch the kid and get my dick sucked. But that's not what happened.

I saw the slime creature in that tree spring down to the ground when it saw me, and I saw all the other slimes emerge from the underbrush, dozens of them, relatively far in the distance and yet striking in their vivid colors, pink, green, but also blue, purple, orange; but, most striking, they were all turning toward me. Like they had been interrupted. Doing what? Searching for Gary.

And I saw him run toward one slime, red, his mom, who had come out of nowhere, real close, who was running too now. Fast. Right at me. And I saw Big Red pounce, saw her land right before my face, as I was toppling over, screaming, kicking, wide-eyed to see she had burst into a steep nightmare of spikes, fangs, talons and bone-crushing suffocation, and I knew then, in that split-second I knew. They weren't pets. They weren't toys. They weren't my little friends. They were real. It was fucking real and I'd better not forget it. Or actually I had forgotten it and I was going to pay. But in the same split-second, I saw Gary intervene before the jelly teeth could turn me to mush. In a few peeps he explained everything and Big Red shrank back to her expressionless, round form, still and quiet.

Me, I was the opposite, a jolting, wheezing wreck, butt on the ground, one twitch away from pissing myself (which wouldn't be pretty since I have two bladders) and I was for the first time of my life tasting the fear of death. Or, more adequately put, the realization of my own mortality. Something that's not supposed to happen when you're twenty, and you think life is short but at the same time you're gonna live forever and never change and get a tattoo and you don't know about compound interest.

Without a sign of either gratefulness or anger, the mother turned around and rolled away, toward the clearing, quickly followed by Gary.

I whispered a meek, "Bye."

Gary looked back at me and chirped.

I sat there. Watched them going away.

Who was I to think I could barge in here and into their lives?

Every slime was heading back to the clearing now. Those passing me by did it rather indifferently, but some gave me a nudge, as if telling me 'Hey, thanks for taking care of the kid.'

I got up, on wobbly legs.

They were coming from every direction. A hundred. Rough estimate. After my scare, that number rolled off me. I was on another planet. In another dimension. And how are we supposed to react to that, uh?

I searched among the pink slimes. And eventually I spotted who I was looking for.

I said in a sleepy voice, "Yo, Pinkie!"

I had recognized her from her gold flakes. Don't ask me how I did from such a distance.

Oh and yeah, by then I had subconsciously established they were all females.

"Dude, I almost shit myself."

She leaped at me, changed shape in the air, turning into some kind of blanket that wrapped around my neck and shoulders like a rapid bearhug. She spun around me, dropped back to the ground and back into the march.

I saw Big Red and Gary going down the stairs leading underneath the temple. So, yes, they had something to do with this place. And there was a way through the rubble...

From where I was standing the altar was shielding it from my view.

The procession was picking up speed. More and more were disappearing down that passage. So I started running cause I realized I was going to be left behind.

I entered the temple just in time to see the few laggards going through the airtight wall of boulders like ghosts. The stone was porous enough and those creatures liquid enough that they could flow through.

Alright, I had my answer.

And now, what was I supposed to do? Knock? Blow the fucking thing with dynamite?

No. I sat at the top of the stairs and ate the snacks I had brought--originally to recover from all the unbridled oral sex with Big Pinkie and her friends.

I kept staring at that goddamn door, feeling like an idiot.

Heh, it's just as well, I told myself. Because, down there... there was... what exactly?

Exactly.

I finished my KitKat bar.

And down there, there was a noise.

An echoing rumble in the dark.

I used the word taste earlier. Truth tastes like fear. And I say this I was chewing on a mouthful of chocolate muck. The noise grew into a vibration. The vibration grew into a choice to make, roaring across my stomach. What was coming wasn't a bunch of goofy little blobs this time. It was an earthquake of the mind made manifest. It was the question hanging above all questions: Do I really want to know?

A little human like me can't answer that, so I ate it up, I sucked it up and I stood up, to face the gratitude of gods.

Something pushed against the barrier. It bulged out like a belly, only slightly.

At first, tiny darkening spots appeared on the stone. They spread out, as if water was soaking through. They got so wide they merged, eventually forming one stain encompassing the rectangular surface of the rubble. And after a few seconds it looked like the staircase was flooded... but from an illogical angle. It was like a wall of jelly was going through the wall of stone, welling up along an horizontal axis. The boulders didn't resist this slow sticky flow for long, one by one they got unsealed, taken away by the moving mass of dark gray fluid, trapped in it.

Only one force could have done this, phagocytize heavy stone blocks: it was one gigantic slime, crawling up. Toward me. At me. Just one. Big as an elephant, squeezing itself out of the narrow stairway. She was starless, instead just boulders stuck inside of her, to her as light as specks of dust caught in a net.

Stumbling before that sight, my back hit the cypress tree. I bounced off it to then fall headlong to the ground, and I only had time to leap to one side to avoid being steamrolled beneath the creature.

Fear made me give her a name. Not a moniker. A name for her rank. Because I knew there were others right behind her and they were coming to judge me. The elder ones. The Æsyrjur, in the old Cappa tongue.

The first one out, another followed. (I tinkled a couple of drops in my pants, not even ashamed to admit it.) Two, three, four æsyrjur came out and formed a circle around me. Or a square now that I think about it.

Towering, they were as silent as shaking ground, the same I was lying on, petrified, cornered. In a few seconds I could be dead. Or dubbed. A comet shining down upon my head.

The door was finally opened. And finally I wished I could pass it, because it was my escape path which was blocked.

From the one æsyrja on my left sprouted an appendage as thick as the bole of a cypress. Before I could scream she seized my ankle and whisked me upside down. Then I screamed. And it almost sounded funny. My phone fell out of my pocket. My wallet, my keys...

At least she didn't shake me around. The three others grabbed my limbs and they flipped me back upright, suspended ten feet in the air, spread like a starfish.

They all grew another appendage, thinner this one. Slow and slinky these ones. They closed in on me. And my mind tampered with my instinct to beg for my life. I didn't squirm around the tentacle that slithered underneath my shirt, because this one or any other, could kill me in one stroke, like snapping a twig. So what would it change? No use fighting. I would just try and clutch my dignity, to better face my fate.

You can imagine my state, though. Covered in this instantly smelly sweat, my chest heaving, my heart hammering so hard I could hear it. The tension couldn't have gone higher, only down.

It actually went sideways.

The tentacle ripped my shirt and the pieces fell down into the grass, leaving me in my bra.

They ripped all my clothes off. And I mean ripped like Christmas wrapping paper. They wrenched my shoes off. Pulled my socks off somehow.

The waistband of my panties snapped. I was naked.

"Are you fucking serious?" I shouted.

Not that I wasn't scared anymore, I just didn't know what the hell they were trying to accomplish. The four tentacles brushed around, all over my skin. And then one began removing the rings on my right ear. So unexpectedly deft and gentle. They did my other ear. And my nipples... They unstrapped my watch. They took away my glasses--that one really made me mad. And, get this, they even managed to peel off the nail polish on my hands and feet. I guess I was lucky I didn't put on makeup this morning.

"So what's next, a fucking enema? Put me down, you stupid elephant fucks!"

Can you tell I was pissed? But heh, I was still hanging, whether I liked it or not, now thoroughly naked, and blind, my legs spread so wide my pussy was on display. And I was still pretty terrified too, whereas I relive this scene with a certain arousal today.

I'd been tied up before. I've been tied to a squat rack during a sex orgy, but that's a story for another time. What I'm trying to say is I'm one of those people who can only find a blurry line between a pleasant position such as sex and an unpleasant situation. Not that I'm into BDSM or anything--although I don't know, I've never tried--but the fact that I like to give up control for sexual gratification and ventured on it in some pretty extreme scenarios, it could explain a lot of what I'm about to tell.

As I said earlier, my balls aren't particularly big (to my great dismay), my sack is tight and smaller than my fist. But in the forced stance I was in, they were hanging completely free, which is--I realized as it was happening--not something occurring that often in the life of a balls-bearer. They were not touching anything, clothes, inner tights, or my dick. And it made them extremely sensitive, extremely alert. Like an accident about to happen, or a delight about to happen. See? that's the blurry line I was talking about.

So when I felt one of the tentacles suddenly hefting them, the nerve signal tore through me like a sonic boom, and I heard myself whimper, and blushed because I had no idea whether it had been out of fright or pleasure.

I gritted my teeth while it fondled the most vulnerable part of me which on any other day loved to be fondled, sucked on, played with, and, shall I say it, sometimes even gently slapped. But it was overlooking the fact that the other creatures seemed to be very interested in my penis.

You know about the shrinkage, right? (Talking to my female readers here.) When men get out of the water? Cold water. Well, my wiener was beyond flaccid. Like a stub poking out. Tiny and afraid. But the tentacles didn't seem to like it. They manipulated it, pulled at it.

Behind me, I didn't see but definitely felt one sneaky tentacle prod at my asshole. As if to make sure I had one...

I clenched and it was the last straw that killed the shrinkage. I was still flaccid but they had enough length for a tentacle to coil around.

They pulled my foreskin back.

I had now grasped that I was gonna receive the freakiest oral sex in human history. A feat that I had already accomplished just the day before.

"Why didn't you just ask?" I whined, thrashing about. "I would have said yes!"

It seems funny but it was a mishmash of very intense and very opposite emotions coming out.

And then they answered my question.

One tentacle, from the æsyrja who had seized me first, rose up to the tip of my penis. It stayed there, my poor frightened dick held straight forward. And then this tentacle--the circumference of my arm, I should mention--touched the opening of my urethra. Like a kiss. It drew back, satisfied, and then... I saw something growing at its extremity, way smaller, a tendril, which lined up with my piss-slit and creeped toward it aaaaaand nonononono I wouldn't have said yes to this! I mean I'd heard about sounding and I was actually not against it, but definitely not like that!

"Wait! Waiwaiwaiwaiwait! Waiii... t!"

She waited, the tendril hovering an inch from my hole.

"Wha... Why the f... Hh... What the hell are you trying to do? Why do you wanna do that?"

I had forgotten they couldn't speak.

I was trying to catch my breath. And here I'm gonna talk to my male readers. Cause you know who betrayed me then?

My dick.

You see? Us, futa, we understand you guys.

My penis betrayed me. My head was trying to go to my "happy place" where none of this was happening, but I couldn't because my second, smaller head was being seduced by the idea.

Getting blown by a slime had felt incredible. I didn't know what sounding felt like but with them it wouldn't be some stupid metal rod up my shaft. A fucking prehensile warm and wet organ wanted to dock me. And stir around. I mean, yeah, you bet I could feel my cock getting horny like a pussyhole...

And let's talk about diameter. It was the size of a pencil. I dunno, is that big?

Shit, that's pretty big.

But thinner and I wouldn't have felt much, right?

Oh God, I want to be fucked in the dick, what's wrong with me?

I looked at them all. My head was the only part of my body I still could move. This and my thudding heart.

It was serious.

Everything about this was serious. There was significance. They could crush my balls, instead they were fondling them. They could have maimed my nipples when they removed the piercings, but they did not.

They were not pets.

To them I wasn't either.

There was something about human sexuality.

Why else would they put me through some kind of ritual like this?

They're gonna read into me. They're going to read my pleasure.

Pleasure is something I take for as long as I give it.

I couldn't facepalm in defeat so I just closed my eyes and lowered my head, sighing out, "I'm such a slut..."

And I think the æsyrja understood that because she immediately pushed her tendril against me.

My eyes shot open, I gasped, took this huge, long gulp of air, pure inhaled vocal fry, as I was gazing on my cock.

The worst moment had been the half-second between pushing and slipping in, because I was scared so not necessarily the best time to have my piss-slit stretched open. But, as I had expected, there was this self-lubrication that made everything smooth and after that half-second and half an inch of digging, my dick told me 'Toldja!'

It felt amazing.

Like oral sex inside my cock. Exactly that, actually.

Like I was ejaculating without ejaculating, without contractions. An endless, unbroken stream of girthy semen pushing into me instead of out.

Deeper and deeper. Slowly but firmly.

And I think we're gonna need a little backstory here.

Pretty much everything erogenous in a futanari is more sensitive than in men and women. It's easy to quantify, we have more nerve endings for the same organs, and a brain chemistry that would kill a horse. So, we have a very sensitive prostate. Not only that but it is shaped like a donut that goes around the vaginal canal. But like anyone else this sensitivity won't be the same from futa to futa, and thus we also all have our preferences, like anyone else. Some futa are more tops than bottoms. Some like feet, some like roleplaying. Some are straight, some are not. Anyway. My prostate is very sensitive. I told you my nipples were like clits? Well, my P-spot is a proximity sensor bomb. I'm exaggerating but you get my point.

And you know, naively, I always saw sounding as 'the metal thing goes into your shaft--The End'... Only, the slime thing was going up, up, up my shaft, and suddenly I was trying to remember these cross-sectional views of the futa reproductive system. To picture one in my head so I could zoom in.

Because when an object keeps sliding up the urethral canal... at some point it encounters the prostate, right before the bladder.

This fact was confirmed even before the tendril touched mine. Because, as I said, my slut-spot is so sensitive, when the tentacle reached the root of my penis it was like it penetrated some kind of ticklish aura, it triggered the alarm, and I gasped like an alarm.

"Ooooh! Oooh my Gah--oooo fuuuck! You're gonna make me fucking--"

The blunt tip of the tendril came in actual contact with the gland and I froze, too stunned to even gasp, and the æsyrja froze too. And there was a reason to. I hadn't zoomed in enough. Things were about to get even more delicate.

I felt a microscopic half-second of pressure and the tendril slipped into my prostate.

Forget about gasps, forget about words. Moans were hurled out of my lungs. Usually when I moan like this I'm having my ass pounded.

"hAAAAAA AAH AAH AAH AAAghstop stop stop! Please stop!" I said, like an idiot. And she did. Her tentacle, probably as fine as a hair now, although it definitely still felt the size of a pencil or worse, stopped right inside the most excruciatingly erogenous organ of my wired up body. It stayed there waiting. And adding to the pleasure was now the horrible pleasure of suspense.

I tried to catch my breath. I couldn't believe the sensations inside of me; I couldn't believe that now it was up to me to give her the greenlight for... I don't know what.

"hhh hhh hhh h-I'm sorry I interrupted you," I panted.

My penis wasn't erect. My nipples were. My clit too.

"Why are you doing this? Why? It feels so good I'm going insane!"

There was a foreign object ballooning the front of my little donut, and little by little it was inflaming the rest of it with bliss.

I had to bring the craziness to its conclusion.

Ok, Ester, you're a fucking slut, you can handle this.

I closed my eyes and said:

"Alright, do your thing."

At once the tendril curled and while I couldn't even flinch I did the only thing left, I started screaming.

I don't know how long it lasted, how long I lasted, one second, one hour, no difference, the... thing happening in my lower body made my mind go blank. So I don't know if I screamed for a second or an hour but my voice was crackling when I stopped--stopped breathing altogether--the tentacle being yanked out of me, to make way for my cum.

All pleasure dulled abruptly as I was now empty, but the chain reaction had been kicked off and I looked down to witness the most massive ejaculation of my entire life. A huge first wad barreled out of me. I was speechless. It went on and on and on, like in a suspended time, in an immense silence. The spurts of semen were arcing in the gleaming sunlight, a few feet into the air, long, thick, before going back down, landing on the ground, ten feet below, with a copious splat. It was so beautiful.

It was a typical prostate orgasm, in the sense that my penis wasn't spasming, it was the contractions of my anus that punctuated each rope gushing out. Nothing typical about the size of these ropes, though.

I was not cumming. I was ejaculating. A ruined orgasm it's called, right? But it was alright. The burning feeling in my prostate and my cock was wonderful. And I don't think there's anything more satisfyingly wonderful than ejaculating. Like singing the most beautiful song and hitting every single fucking note. Like giving a part of you that's never lost. You know? And boy did I give. That load lasted for like a minute. Each jet taller than my own body.

The æsyrjur rejoiced around my climax, they did a little stationary dance. And their motions snapped me out of my stupor, the concept of breathing came back to me. I groaned the last dribbles out. And finally I went limp in their "arms", unsure if I should brace for more.

But that was it. They had tested me. The test was over.

They deposited me onto the ground. Carefully, that's important.

* * * * * *

I was still lying there, comatose, my incredible first sounding experience replaying in my head over and over, nimbed of an almost mystic light, not gonna lie. Meanwhile the kinky elephants were long gone, back down the stairs.

And you would think that the last in line would have farted the boulders back into place in the doorway, but she hadn't.

The message was clear. I was invited in.

Doesn't mean I didn't hesitate.

After gathering my wits, I staggered up and gathered my stuff scattered in the grass.

Couldn't find most of my jewelry. Fuck's sake...

It's like they thought I was made of money.

I found my socks and my shoes.

And all of a sudden I realized I had put them back on. And I knew why.

I would go down there.

I had plenty of reasons.

You might think I just wanted to cum some more.

I had plenty of reasons.

As expected, the steps were descending into pure darkness.

Deep.

Definitely not a cellar.

Nothing was forcing me to go down there. They weren't. Nothing would guide me either, but my own courage, or my recklessness.

What got me walking eventually was the nearby whir of a drone.

I figured it more than likely had some kind of camera device on it, thermal vision, sci-fi shit, who knows. And I didn't want Cappa intelligence to have my nudes. Though it's easy to guess that above all I didn't want them to know that the gate to a secret world had been opened.

I paused, peered into the gloom, just to sigh, for having gotten myself into such a mess. While of course some part of me was grinning. Because I looked at myself, with my shoes, my backpack, my jugs jiggling and my dick dangling. I was ridiculous, and also so fucking sexy. Not necessarily me. The situation. I was incongruent. I was going to live a weird, probably dangerous adventure, and I was gonna do it naked.

I took a deep breath, said, "Fuck you, Jules Verne," and disappeared.