Oculus Pt. 01

"Unknown," HEDE said.

"It was a rhetorical question, HEDE," Sasha said. He turned back, then let himself carefully down the hill and to the pool in the middle of his origin site. He knelt down, extended out the sensing wand, and then detached it from his wrist. Very carefully, he dipped the oblong end into the pool, then drew it back. The glowing white liquid stuck to the wand itself, and the wand began to bring back sensor reports. The only problem was that it didn't make any damn sense. He expected a chemical composition. What he got was a string of error messages.

"What the-" Sasha yelped and dropped the wand as he saw that the white liquid was flowing along it. He scrambled back and away before the white liquid on the wand could touch him. Fortunately, he had dropped it in time, and soon, the entire sensing wand was completely wrapped in the white fluid. Then, before his eyes, he saw a long thin tendril sprout from the back of the plastic and metal tool. The tendril pushed against the floor, wriggling and squirming as a second tendril, then a thid grew from the wand.

"What the fuck?" Sasha whispered as the sensing wand stopped glowing -- and in its place was a sucker covered, writhing, glistening worm. Eyes glittered along the sides of the new creature, and the tentacles that it reached out in every direction gave it a horrible, omnidirectional aspect. It left behind a trail of gleaming slime. It started writhing towards the pool and, before Sasha's eyes, slipped in with a rippling sound. The pool shimmered, then turned midnight black.

"Oh dear," Sasha whispered as he heard a low, droning tone echoing through the landscape. It was as if the floor under his palms and his butt had become one vast drum, and it was echoing out a signal. He started to stand as the note faded, and then heard a distant, returning call. This one was bugling and alien -- like some distant, jungle beast. Fear crawled along his spine and he looked around, trying to see where the sound had come from. It was to the east, he was fairly certain -- and when he magnified his vision scopes, he saw two black figures emerging from the shadowed walls of a narrow, trapezoidal shape that abutted the field of ponds. They moved low. Fast.

Quadrapedal.

Ancient, animal instincts in Sasha woke up, buzzing along his spine. A panicky instinct that he had only felt in his youth, and only then when he had been around his least favorite animal.

Sasha liked cats.

Independently minded, Cats.

Sasha did not like dogs.

He did not like dogs. It wasn't because they smelled or because they were ugly. It wasn't because they needed to be walked and trained. It was something different -- a deep, raw, crackling fear that defied logic and rationalization. It was a terror that he had only told to a few people, and it was a terror that began to buzz through him as those forms started to make a slithering, darting beeline towards him.

He turned and he ran, sprinting away from the pond, panting as he jackknifed again and again, avoiding going down into the depressions, not wanting to get close to any of the pools, close to any of the liquid. And yet, despite his terror, his brain was trying to figure out how the liquid could have transformed a simple chunk of plastic and metal and computer chips into...that. The only means he could think of would be some kind of ferociously complex and fast acting nanotechnology. Which only increased how much he didn't want to touch it. He risked a glance backwards and saw the dark shapes were gaining.

Then he sprinted past the last pond and came to a narrow canyon. Except it wasn't a canyon, it was a straight fucking drop from here to what looked like eternity. The only thing between him and the infinite black pit below was a criss crossing set of tubes and connections between this 'shelf' and the other. Sasha measured the distance, glanced back, saw the dark figures were still after him, then stepped back, ran forward, jumped.

His belly hit the corner of the other shelf and he started to slip down. His fingers scrabbled along the quasi-organic surface of the ground, and he managed, just barely, to get his hands around a handhold. He dragged himself up just enough to swing his knee over the edge of far shelf, then swung himself onto his side, then to his feet. By now, the dark figures had stopped moving -- almost two hundred meters back. They were crouched low, their bodies ducked into the narrow divots, using the inclines leading down to the pools to keep themselves mostly concealed.

All Sasha could see was dark carapace. Curved, bony head-plates. Eyeless, alien faces.

Then he saw nothing at all -- they had slipped back down. They did not emerge again. Remembering the tunnels that led directly into the ponds, Sasha shivered from his head to his toes, his skin crawling at the idea of those things being in the same space he had awakened in. Then he turned around.

An angel stood before him.

Gray skin, black hair, black hands, an impression of wings, cold pitiless eyes. Too many eyes.

That was the last thing that Sasha saw before the spear plunged into his chest. It turned out HEDE hadn't been over-designed enough.

***

Warm, moist breath, teasing along hiss kin. The faint sound of sighing. The lapping of water -- not in the irregular, chaotic pattern of a brook, but rather than slow, steady pattern of a faucet. These sensations came to Sasha first -- followed only then by a throbbing ache in his chest and memory of fear and pain. When his eyes opened he sat up, and found that he was naked -- his lean, pale body already glittering faintly with sweat and the humidity of the room. The atmospheric sensors on his suit had told him that this place had a breathable atmosphere -- but they hadn't mentioned this much heat or humidity.

His hand pressed to his chest, feeling a narrow ridge of scar tissue there -- from the...

Spear?

He tried to recall, exactly, what it was that he had seen. He had a memory of beautiful femininity. And eyes. And gray skin. And...wings. But nothing else seemed coherent in the panicky rush he had been in. When he looked around the room, though, he found that he was laying upon a slab of black, shiny metal that was lifted off the floor on almost hand-like columns, which gripped onto each corner of the molded, biomechanical bed. The water sound came through a narrow, yonic looking doorway that sat in the left part of the room.

The right half of the room, though, had...

For a moment, Sasha saw what he saw: Feminine hips, pale white, with smooth, bone-like handles that emerged from her glistening flesh right at the hips. The soft folds of an eager, fuckable pussy, glistening wet and ready for him. Then he blinked and realized it was merely a...very oddly designed looking shelf, merging with the wall and a smooth mirror black pane of not-quite glass that was set above it. He stood and walked slowly forward, eying the shelf. It had the smooth curve of a feminine back...but that had to be a...sink?

And was that a...

No, there was a distinctly moist...aperture there, nestled between the thigh-like columns. There were no signs of feet -- instead, where the legs would have had feet, they instead merged smoothly with the floor. Sasha slowly, gently, placed his palm upon the curved, rump-like protrusion. She felt soft and smooth and feminine. His hand glided along her pale white skin, then down to the folds of her sex -- and he caressed her slowly, gently. The mirror shimmered, rippled, and then began to froth like water, bubbling and hissing as his fingers glided up and down the...it was a pussy, that was the only word he could think of for it. Sasha watched, stunned to his core -- then on impulse, he plunged his fingers into the wet, eager, silky smooth sex.

The mirror smoothed out -- then transformed into a silvery sheet of metal that reflected his stunned face back at him, as opposed to simply being a black, non-reflective pit. Sasha blinked at himself. He looked slightly haggard and worn, but otherwise unharmed. The pussy that his fingers filled tightened around him and he drew his hand backwards -- and the mirror remained reflective. It was like he had set it to that function -- and it was going to stay there. He looked down at his finger, then sniffed at the slick sheen of juice that had coated his fingertip.

He wiped it on the wall, then went to the door.

When he leaned out, he saw that there was a narrow corridor, another yonic doorway across from him, a door at the end of the hall, and a window looking out into a shrouded village of low, curved, dome like houses. There was a very close ceiling of tightly woven fibrous masses. He didn't see any people out and about -- the entire place was very quiet, save for that sound of flowing, splashing water.

He stepped slowly out, moving along the wall, carefully. Slowly. He came to the door that led to the sound of splashing -- and there, he found another...being.

His gut instinct was that she was a woman -- she had the breasts of a woman, the long hair that women tended to have on Earth, the hips of a woman, the rump of a woman. The only difference was that...she seemed to be a fusion of machine and flesh that was both queasy and enthralling. He couldn't stop roving his eyes along the joint seams on her arms, her shoulders, the curved raised spine that clung to/emerged from her back, the long hair that was actually thin wires and tubes, rather than actual hair. Her eyes were midnight black with tiny yellow irises. The room she was kneeling in was circular and quiet, and had a central fountain -- the fountain was also a woman, similar in looks, save that she was perfectly still and her skin was pale, alabaster white as opposed to dark grays and blacks. Water flowed from her mouth, dripping down her chin, and cascading off her breasts to patter into the ankle deep pool that she stood in.

A statue. Decorative? Religious?

Sasha had no idea.

The woman jerked her head to the side -- her eyes transfixing him as she stood, fluidly. She spoke a single word -- and it wasn't just alien. It was...hard to even hear. It slid in and out of his hearing range, crawling along his spine like a spider. When Sasha shook his head and said: "I...I don't understand..." the woman nodded. She walked towards him, confidently, even as he tried to keep his eyes locked on her face without slipping down.

Her cool fingers pressed to his cheek and she leaned in and kissed him.

Her lips were gentle and soft, and Sasha remained perfectly still -- until her tongue slid into his mouth. And slid. And slid. And slid. His eyes widened and he tried to draw back, but her hand gripped his wrist, her other hand caressing his neck, holding him in place as his throat took her tongue -- it slid down his throat, into him, like a tentacle. Sasha felt his cock surging to eager life despite himself, his toes curling as he tasted her. Then there was a faint sting -- and then her tongue was sliding back, and out of his mouth as she pulled back, her hands releasing him.

Sasha coughed, gasped, rubbing at his throat. "What the fuck?" he rasped, his eyes half closed as the sting faded slowly.

"Please, wait quietly," the woman said -- and her voice was musical and understandable. Sasah gaped at her -- and then closed his mouth as the woman turned and knelt beside the water. She slid her fingers through it slowly, sloshing it around, her brow furrowing. She nodded, slowly. "Senjen is processing the waters effectively. The City Sleeps." She looked back over her shoulder. "You should not have disturbed the Dreamers."

Sasha nodded, slowly. "Those...black things?" He asked, his voice a nervous croak.

The woman shook her head, looking irritated. "Foolish," she stood. "You woke a dreamer to bring life to a tool. Foolish." She clicked her tongue, then crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes sliding over him. "You will be meat, I think. Many like you become meat. Or stay meat." She prodded Sasha's chest.

Sasha blinked at her, his mouth opening, then closing. I'm speaking to an alien...she implanted a translation program in me? Some kind of direct neural shunt, he thought to himself. Then he considered her phrase. You will be meat. Senjen is processing the waters effectively. His eyes flicked from her to the feminine...statue. Except she wasn't a statue. He paused. "Do your people..." he paused. "This place, this...City, do your people...become part of it? Symbiotically?"

The woman cocked her head, looking faintly surprised. "When it is needed." She huffed, softly. "Senjen cannot tend to the roots. Come on." She turned and started to walk away, her hips swaying as she walked off. Sasha gulped, then brushed his hands along his hair, focusing.

"Right," he muttered. "Don't become meat. Plan A."

Exiting from the hut and into the village, Sasha tensed, ready to be looked at by other...well, he was going to have to think of a name for them later. But rather than getting a load of eyeballs, Sasha was ignored utterly...because the village was nearly empty. The woman walked past two huts that had people merged with their walls. One was male, his eyes closed, his arms receding back into the wall, his hips merging with it. His head hung forward, and he looked peaceful. At rest. The woman, meanwhile, was curled up in almost fetal position, her hair fanning out around her head, the tube-wires connecting her head to the junctions.

The woman led him past these huts and to an area of ground that looked, unlike most of the City he had seen so far, actually worked on. Crude tools had ripped and tugged up the material that made up the floor, revealing a jagged, ugly crater in the landscape. Running underneath the ground were dozens of pipes and tubes -- all running in the same direction. They thrummed and rumbled, and even from a distance, Sasha could see that some were caked in frost, and others wafted with steam. The woman made a quiet 'tetch' noise.

"All healed...Senjen, you bitch..." She muttered -- and Sasha blinked. Either the translation...device she had put in him was really, really good or even this alien woman was closer to humans than he would have ever imagined before he had been flung through the portal. The woman knelt down, picking up a long metal spear, then hopped down into the pit. She started to place her palm against the pipes, feeling them, frowning.

"What are you doing?" Sasha asked.

The woman looked at him. "Foolish..." She shook her head, glaring down at the pipes.

Sasha frowned. "Not foolish. New. I'm from another world. We don't have pipes, we don't have dreamers. We don't have any of this. But I am not foolish. I am not dumb. If you explain what it is you're doing, what it is for, why..." He paused. "I can help you, and you can help me. After all, I don't want to become meat."

The woman cocked her head to the side. Then she nodded. "But teaching you takes time. Effort. Energy. I...thought maybe you were..." She trailed off, then pursed her lips, and Sasha wondered what she had imagined he was before she had...kissed him. Then she nods. "I will test you. These pipes carry the life of the City. Some are used by the organ-cities. Some are used by the cell-rooms. Some are fed into the We. Those are what are needed. Find the pipe, then tap into it. We can drink, we can eat, and then I can teach you."

Sasha nodded, then looked down at the pipes.

He immediately dismissed the ones that were steaming, the ones that were frosted. He slid down into the hole, moving very, very carefully to keep himself from gashing any part of his body on the still ragged edge. Once he was down, hissing slightly with nerves, he knelt beside the pipes that were not frosted or steaming, then placed his palm on the first one. It was buzzing, thrumming. He could feel the liquid within, rushing along at what had to be ludicrously high pressures. He glanced at the woman -- she had no tools other than the spear.

It was possible that she could drink and eat from a pipe that was spraying out liquid like a hydraulic drill.

Possible...

But unlikely.

He touched the next pipe. This was slower, but...

He touched the third. This one was barely moving at all -- a slow, stately thrumming. He rapped it, put his ear to it, listened to it. He nodded, then held his hand out for the spear. "Spear," he said, his voice curt. The woman, looking faintly shocked, handed him the spear, and he took it, then stood. He rested the blade against the floor between the pipes and found that it sliced into the metal with shocking ease. He remembered the strange, angelic being, the spear plunging into his chest...

He shook himself, then hefted the spear, then plunged it into the pipe that he had chosen, carving, his teeth gritted. He cut almost all the way through, then shoved the spear in, levered up, twisted to the side and finally, levered the sliced tube upwards, revealing that it was frothing with a pale red liquid, with thick clods and chunks that flowed through it. The woman trilled, cheerfully, then thrust her hand into the pipe. It drew back, dripping with red, and she held a circular wafer in her hand. Her eyes grinned.

"Okay. Maybe you are not useless, Foolish," she said, cheerfully, then pushed the wafer against his mouth. His mouth opened and he let her push the food into his mouth. He chewed. It tasted meaty, but not unpleasent. He chewed, then swallowed, nervously. His voice was soft.

"That...when you said I'd be meat, you...don't mean that stuff, right?" he asked, a nervous, taboo thrill crawling along his spine. The woman made a face, then smacked the top of his head with her palm.

"No!" She said. "Meat means meat." She thrust her hips in a clear gesture -- her hips twitching upwards. "Meat meats pinned down and taken. And taken. And taken." She snorted, softly. "They say meat enjoys it, eventually. Mewls happily. Moans. Cums." Her tongue darted out. "But they're never anything but meat then."

Sasha's face went pale and he nodded. "Right."

"Come on. You have a lot to learn, Foolish," the woman said, springing up onto a pipe, then hopping smoothly up onto the lip of the artificial crater. She turned back, grinning down at him. Her hips cocked. "Lots to learn if you don't want to be meat."

Sasha nodded, then used the spear to lever himself upright. She took his hand, dragged him up, and when he was standing before her, the woman smiled.

"Ziak," she said, quietly. "That is my name, Foolish."

"Sasha Bret," Sasha said, seriously. "Doctor Sasha Bret."

Ziak nodded. "Foolish."

She turned and walked off, rolling her hips. "Come on. Much to learn."

Sasha sighed.

And followed.

TO BE CONTINUED