Autophobia

Always available, always willing. Perfection? No other word for it. I thrust my hips, slow and easy, and it thickens even more, tightening around me. My heart rate increases, and I thrust harder and harder into the void. But it's not a void, it's everything I could ever want. Heaven? I increase my pace, panting and drawing in more fluid with every breath. It's wonderful. I reach out for her... reach out for who? What am I even reaching with? No matter. The orgasm crashes over me, and I am content.

——

I don't know which way is up. Am I upside down right now? I laugh at the thought, then realize I cannot. That's odd. But I've always been able to, who can't laugh? I'm funny, love making others laugh. Making... what laugh? Are there others? Other what? No matter. I still my body, try to orient myself to... something.

I feel the slightest current from one direction, I have a distant memory of the fluid coming in, filling a far smaller room than this. So that must be down then, where I feel this slight current. It reminds me of something else, a breeze. A breeze in a green field beneath a blue sky... my mind continues to come up with more nonsense words, brimming from a deep haze. But that was a nice thought, wasn't it? I think it was.

At least I know which way is down.

——

Where is the rest of me? I have a faint memory of limbs, arms and legs, well-muscled from... something. Exercise. A funny word, I think. Exercise. God, what could it even mean? But stay focused! My arms and legs. I'm sure they are there, they exist. They are there... somewhere. But even if they aren't, what does it matter? I don't need them to float, I don't need them to exist. I don't need them to breathe or swallow the sustenance of all life. I don't need them to orgasm. As if on cue, I feel the fluid thickening, and I lose thought of all else.

——

Does time really pass? What does it matter. It certainly doesn't here, not now. Now is all that matters. Now is the fluid, now is the satiation. Before. What of it? I was not satisfied then, but I am now. Satisfied to the point of stupefaction, but what is that? I know what I want, and what I want is here. What I want is here in every breath. Should I want more I am given more, and the happiness, the joy of this existence, consumes me.

The day I found this place. That perfect day, that glorious moment. When I first tasted the fluid, when it first engulfed me. Consumed me. Gave me everything I could imagine and more. The first perfect taste. It swirled around my tongue, coated me without and within. That first time. Maybe time does mean something, as I think about that perfect moment. The moment I was introduced to this, this universe of delight, of pleasure, of perfection.

——

The memory of that first moment consumes me. I can stay there as long as I want, I can think about it freely. It's a good feeling, the power to think of what I want. It's almost as good as another orgasm. After so long, it may be better. I have the power to think of this moment, and it's encapsulating. I relish in the memory, the perfect bliss. I take in a deep, succulent breath as the memory sweeps over me, the same moments again and again. It's Nirvana.

Isn't it? The more I run that moment over in my mind, the more something else wiggles up. Something... foreign. Strange. A thought that seems almost... dark? Something happened before I tasted the fluid. Something less than perfect, something that did not satisfy me. Was that even possible? No, I think not.

Ah, the fluid forms before me again. Perfect. It's coming close to being a solid form now, I can almost hold it in my hands as it services me. Maybe my perfect life can get better.

——

Something has changed. I remember something. Something else. But there is nothing else! Nothing but here, nothing but now. Nothing but pleasure. But I remember a... different pleasure. The touch of warm flesh beneath my hands. The feel of legs wrapped around my hips. These words I'm remembering barely have meaning, but I remember them. There's face in front of me, smiling, gasping, screaming. It's the face of pleasure. It's the face of real pleasure. I can hold it. I can grasp it.

The fluid forms in front of me, but I cannot grasp it. I cannot hold it. The orgasm is powerful, but the rush from it fleeting. I feel, I cannot explain it, almost... unfulfilled?

——

I remember more, and I remember when my mind was stronger. Faster. I could think, think about more. Think about more than this true existence. It's all I could ever want. Nothing could be better.

But if that is true, why does this face haunt me? I try to push it from me, for now is all that matters. But it's there, it's always there, and I remember that pleasure. I remember calling it's name, longing for her, screaming for her. Her? What is her?

——

I remember her. There was the pleasure, and there was more than that. I remember things now, and I remember it because of her. Her face, her body. She's wearing a white dress, and she's smiling. I remember smiling now. I remember, there was more to this, more than what I have. It wasn't perfect, but there was more than this. There is more than this.

The fluid forms before me, but I ignore it. It grows thicker, clings to my body. I try to move away, but it only strengthens. I know now it's not only on my body, but in my mind. It becomes something more, then suddenly tightens around my shaft. I don't move my hips but it moves on me anyway, restricting my movements, clamping down on me, and I remember.

I remember that first time, before the pleasure. I remember the fear, the terror as it took me. I remember the crippling strength, I remember the constricting walls.

The walls, the walls, where are the walls? Still the fluid clings to me, seeps into the sulci of my mind. It's intoxicating and triumphant, and I realize I'm not strong enough. What do the walls of this galaxy matter, what of the terror I felt in another lifetime? I succumb to the pleasure, all thoughts of anything else driven from my mind. The fluid clamps around me and I'm held in place as it works my shaft, and with a silent scream, I orgasm. It breaks me, and I lay floating in the never ending haze.

——

I know what I must do. I remember it now, and no working of the fluid can stop me. I don't remember everything, but I remember enough. There's something else out there, something calling to me for beyond the universe. The words of a madman, I know, but I must follow them. I must follow the call to whatever is it, far beyond here. Whatever it is, it has a name.

Ellie.

But first, I must go down.

I feel the faint current, know I must move to the source. I remember now, remember my arms and legs. I use them to go to the source, feeling the fluid flow around me as I move. It tries to thicken, try to stop me, but I scream at it, the silent sound blasting from my mind. The thickening fluid recoils back as if in shock, and I continue to move, continue to... swim, Swim down.

——

What does it feel like, to swim across the universe. It is paralyzing and exhilarating and impossible. The fluid doesn't form against me because it thinks I cannot do it, but I am determined. I can still breathe it and still swallow it, and that is euphoria enough. Enough to keep me going, enough to keep me swimming.

I swim through nothing, through everything. I cannot see, I cannot smell. There is only the fluid which surrounds me, which sustains me. I swim until, for the first time in perhaps ever, I touch something. There is something beneath my hand, and I collapse against it in elation. It's possible now, the interminable distance traversed.

Now, the source. I can find it, I must. I run my hands along the tender flesh beneath me, and it shudders. I knead it, and I sense... something. Something new. I push my fingertips into it, and the shuddering deepens. I move along this barrier, running my hands along the flesh of the lower wall, and after time unknown I feel something new. A slight lump, soft and plump. I run my hands over it and the entire galaxy, the only home I've ever known, shudders. The lump is small, smaller than my two hands. In the middle of the lump are two folds, and I run my fingers along them. The shuddering continues, deepens. I run my thumbs up and down the folds, massaging them. The shuddering turns into quickening, hastening tremor. I quicken my ministrations, the fluid sloshing around me. For the first time I feel something different from it, I feel... excitement? Fear? The sense of the pending unknown. These feelings assault my overwhelmed and tottering mind. As they do I get flashes of my home, my galaxy, and flashes of something else. A plant, a plant the size of a man. A plant with two leaves like great jaws, and these jaws are full. I remember it... I remember it!

I see something else. The purpose of the plant. What it needs. What it longs for. I quicken my ministrations on the folds, pulling them apart and dipping my fingers into the hole, the infitismal chamber within. I feel more than hear a great moan, a desperate plea for more. My course is made clear. Keeping my fingers deep in the hole, rubbing the velvet interiors of it, I reposition myself so my shaft is poised just over the entrance. The fluid around me now is thickening in erratic bursts, flowing around me in a torrent.

I ignore it and sink my shaft into the hole.

My galaxy spasms and contracts. The feeling, true contact after a thousand lifetimes of only gelatinous constructs, near shatters my already struggling mind. I thrust my hips down, slamming against the surface. It rises up to meet me. I sink fingers into the soft surface, spread my legs and plant my feet, and slam my hips in a steady rhythm into this tiny chamber, the keyhole of this world.

Everything is shaking, everything is moving. The galaxy is collapsing. My home is crumbing. The fluid is fleeing from me, and the hole beneath me quivers and spasms around. For the first time, I am in control. For the first time, I have the power. My hips move at a faster, harder pace. The entire floor beneath me is shuddering, leaking fluid. The walls of the hole cling to me, gripping me while pound into it. I feel a growing cry all around me, and my orgasm grows.

And so does the final orgasm of this galaxy, this plant...

This prison.

I erupt at the same time as this cursed fucking plant, and the walls crash down around me. In that instant I am in the cave, my manhood buried deep into the base of a monstrous flora. I'm nude, shivering from more than the cold. I pull out of it, and tumble to the glowing moss. The two sides of the flytrap lay on the ground, sagging and broken. I crawl away from it, the effort exhausting me. I vomit into the stream, and then it hits.

The withdrawal, the loss of perfection. All that I needed had been ripped from my body, and my every cell screams for it. I lay huddled in a ball on the ground, curled at the side of the stream. I hate the way I feel, I hate the cold, I hate the turmoil in stomach.

But I can curl my toes, flex my arms. I can SEE. I was pulled from a purgatory of pleasure, and I was alive. I cling to thee thoughts, weak as they seem, as a torturous pain racks my body.

I don't know how long I lay there, shivering and broken. But at long last I stretch my legs, unfold my arms. On trembling legs, I stand on my own power. My head pounds, my stomach writhes. The gelatinous fluid that covered my skin has dried to a flaking layer. I look around on the floor of the cave, find an old pair of mesh shorts. No one will miss them. I pull them on, fall on my ass doing so.

Sitting there, I finally look around the cave. Aside from the trap I escaped, only two are open now. Oh God, two more had been taken. I peer deeper into the dim light. Only mine hangs open, sagging to the ground. The final two sit positioned with their jaws ready to clamp. I look at the enclosed flytraps, wonder what I can do, wonder how I can save those within. The roots of the plant are short and thick, and I doubt I have the strength now to break them.

And then I smell it. An intoxicating smell.

Ellie's smell.

It comes from one of the two remaining open traps, and I lunge towards it, falling on my face as I do so. Everything will be right again, everything will be good. I can go back! Back to the pleasure, back to the absence of pain, back to satisfaction.

Then I hear it. A new noise. An almost mewling whimper.

It's coming from the pod I escaped from, and I see something. A figure in the middle of it, small and pitiful and weak. The sound comes from it again, that needful cry. A hitching cough and then it turns its head to me.

A monster, an abomination, and it has my eyes.

May God strike me down, I run. I run from the cave with all I have, leaving the cursed souls behind me. I mkae no false promises that I will return to save them.

——

My muscles feel wasted, but still I am able to make it down the mountain. The distance seems far shorter this time. I'm a panting, gasping wreck by the time I make it down to the parking lot. The sun is high and my car is gone. Maybe for the best, as I didn't have any keys anyway. I am clad in nothing but the shorts I found in the cave. My feet were raw from the trail, my arms and legs covered in scrapes from a dozen falls. I'm exhausted, starving, hopeless. I have no way to make it home, and am swept over by a sudden hopelessness.

Thank God for hippies.

A van of people in their 60s who had clearly not left the 70s behind pull up, and for some reason they take pity on me. I told them only that I'd gotten lost in the woods, abandoned most of my gear in a panic. They feed me and give me water, along with a tie-died Grateful Dead shirt. I am beyond grateful, even more when I realize they're heading to a town 20 minutes past mine. I ride with them and they regale me tales of a better time when the love was free and weed a hell of a lot cheaper. I stay quiet for the bulk of the ride, asking only one question.

"What day is it?"

The driver tells me it's the 29th of October. Two days. I'd only been in there two days? I'd lived a thousand meandering lifetimes in two days? An intense relief sweeps over me. Ellie will be worried sick, but I'll make it up to her.

Ellie.

The face that saw in the ether, the memory of pleasure that broke the power of the trap. Everything I want. Everything I need. And in just minutes, she'll be in my arms again.

The hippies drop me off in front of my neighborhood, and I limp the final two blocks home. I see my house. Our house. My heart goes into my throat, my stomach turns with excitement. I walk up the steps and ring the doorbell.

I wait longer than I want, but soon Ellie opens the door.

And screams.

Her face whitens as she clasps both hands over her mouth. I try to smile through my tears.

"Ellie, I'm so sorry, come here." I pull her into a hug. She keeps her hands over her mouth, her arms tight against her. I kiss her on the forehead and step back.

"What's wrong baby? It's only been two days!"

She finds her voice, barely. "Two days?" She squeaks. "Jake, it's been three years. The last I saw you was October 27 three years ago. We had..." she's crying now. "We had another memorial service for you two days ago."

I stare at her in disbelief, trying to comprehend her words. Then a voice calls down from upstairs.

"Ellie, are you okay? I was in the attic but I thought I heard a scream."

Footsteps come down the stairs. Ellie stares into my eyes, her hands back over her mouth, her eyes wide with fear and shock. She's wearing a ring but it's not mine.

Avery appears at the bottom of the stairs.