The Black City Ch. 02

I awake with a startle when I feel something crawl across my bare skin. Letting out a strangled yelp, I sit up completely, scurrying back against the peeling white paint of the apartment wall, and throw away my moth-eaten blanket. In the dim light of the single browning, guttering lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, finding the culprit is difficult but possible; a massive, jet-black cockroach about the size of a teacup scuttling down the side of my mattress and onto the floor.

When I look at it, however, it pauses -- noticing me notice it. It turns back to face me, revealing a face not unlike that of a small dog, defiled by human teeth and thick, cracked human lips. "We all die someday," it tells me. I remain silent for a long moment as its eyes bore into mine.

My attempt to reply, though, is interrupted by a sickening crunching and slurping sound, as one of Zazkoroth's tentacles smashes into the creature from around the corner. Following the tendril is the rest of the creature itself, heaving his massive bulk onto the roach's body. "AaAaahh YEsS, this Zaz does enjoy a cruMch that makes mouth-words, for they are richest in m0isture...!"

"I don't know whether to be appalled at what I just had to witness, or overjoyed that whatever that thing was is gone," I sigh. A groan follows as I roll out a kink in my neck, getting up without dressing and wandering to the kitchen. The feeling of hunger is so familiar now that its various stages are difficult to distinguish from one another -- food would be scarce enough as is without the... corruption, that's made so much of it inedible to me. "Zaz, do we still have milk?"

"Silly hy00man," Zaz croons, slithering up beside me, his tendrils winding loosely around my body, caressing my midsection in what I can only assume is an effort to soothe me. "The girl-milk we haRvested is at peace now, but contemplate g00d fortune -- there remains ghost-milk."

"Ghost mi--?" I pause, and do a deeper dive into Zaz's thoughts, absorbing not only his interpretation of what he's trying to describe, but his understanding of it. "Yogurt. You mean we have yogurt."

"YesSs, the ooze-spirit of What Was Milk."

I nod and go for it, opening the fridge to fetch the bowl of what had once been human milk, taken by Zaz through methods I have no desire to inquire about. Mixing it with some dusty old fruit cereal is... not perfect, but the closest thing I'm going to get to an edible breakfast without going 'shopping.' What the cockroach said is weighing on me, though. I'm sure it's just some awful little abomination from some blasphemous realm beyond the spheres, with no purpose but to upset and disturb what few (if any) sane minds remain in the Black City, but... I've been thinking about it already for some time.

Zaz has plenty to eat, feeling no ill effects from corrupted food or even mutated creatures. I, however -- as I unfortunately had to learn the hard way a few years back -- will get deathly sick from it. I'm stuck scrounging for whatever's left of the old world, and with each haul we bring back less and less. I exhale through my nostrils, looking down at the faded pastel rings of starch swimming in thin off-white slime, and take another bite. It's not terrible. It just won't last.

Where is it going?

Smell it, smell it. Smells... smells of purple and green and screams and clouds...

Star-thing, star-thing, where do you fall?

Where go, girl-creature? Girl-thing?

What blackness belches you out?

The ambient mental chatter of the damned is something I've long since learned to live with and ignore. It can't be tuned out, but after a while it just becomes... white noise, I guess, like that weird shit Zaz is always watching on TV. That said, it's incredibly rare that I hear all those voices -- all those thoughts -- synchronize to focus on a single thing. What's far more disturbing is that whatever visitor the crazies are so captivated by... I can't hear them.

"Zaz, do you hear th--" I begin, then pause. It's hard to remember that Zaz doesn't have my gift, that the things I hear are for me only. I furrow my brow, then try again. "I think someone's outside."

"Oo0oh? Mayhappings we go on the roof and take an little peEp? Friendz maybe?"

"Fuckin' doubtful. I'll get dressed and grab the crossbow."

A few moments later, and Zaz and I round the last staircase to the rooftop of the apartment, where Zaz usually does his nighttime watch while I'm asleep. I settle into the chair at the edge of the flat, trash-strewn square roof, looking through the magnifying sights on the crossbow and down to the streets of the Black City below. Crazies churn around like ants fleeing a burning hive, moving from building to building, clamoring, chattering, watching, trying to get a better vantage point to watch the traveler. And I see them, too -- or, her. If it is a her at all. Even with the sights, I can't get a great look at her, especially not under her mottled, greenish cloak and hood... but I can see that she's looking up at me.

I reach down with my mind, targeting her, trying to find her thoughts, trying to pierce whatever focus or meditation she's using to block me, but... nothing. Just silence, like nobody's there at all. Is it me? Have I finally lost it, gone crazy like everyone else? Is the traveler even there at all?

"Well look at that, Raine," Zaz beams at me with his single huge baby-blue. "A new friend f0r us!"

"You see her?"

"Of c0urse, and feel her. She is... different. Let us wander d0wn the Many Flights to meet her!"

I nod, and prepare myself for the long walk down to the bottom of the apartment complex, down nine full floors before finally reaching the exit. Zazkoroth shifts in front of me, keeping his massive bulk interposed between me and, well, whatever's waiting for us outside. I keep the crossbow up, waiting to get a decent look at this stranger. From what I can see so far, she's tall, maybe six feet, give or take an inch or two, with a lot of that height seeming to be legs. Wrapped around her is not a cloak or poncho, as I'd thought, but a three-quarter length hooded jacket, and from its splotchy, pallid green coloration, I can only assume it's been put together from the skins of corrupted humans. A black canvas duffle bag is slung around one shoulder, enough of a context clue to assume she's out hunting for supplies. Still, I can't sense anything from her mind. "Alright, fucker," I hiss from behind Zaz, narrowing my eyes at the traveler. "You sane or not? Pull that hood down!"

"I assure you," comes a calm, feminine voice, bearing a rolling accent that I can't even attempt to place. "I'm as sane as you... likely moreso."

Zaz's body ripples, a low sound burbling out from him, like his insides are trilling against each other. To my absolute befuddlement, the stranger looks at him, and makes a softer burbling sound in return from beneath her hood. It's musical, in a way, if music made you want to shove corkscrews in your ears to drill the sound out.

"Hood! Now! I fucking swear I'll put a bolt right in you!" I shout, but a soothing transmission from Zaz's mind murmurs its way into my brain.

"Be n0t afraid, little droplet, she is a friend," the tentacle-creature says, and the woman slowly pulls her hood down.

I definitely wasn't sure what I expected, but it wasn't this. She's human...ish, with a head and face and eyes and whatnot, but she looks, erm... not corrupted, not like the crazies out there still watching her. No, she looks like the creatures that came from the stars, the ones that made the Cracking happen in the first place.

Her skin is purple, like Zaz, but much lighter -- more of a pale lavender color than the inky shade of eggplant that encases Zaz's amorphous bulk. Her jaw is narrow and her forehead a little large, along with her almond-shaped eyes, which sport icy light-blue irises barely distinguishable from her sclera, and huge black pupils. Where there should be hair is a tangle of narrow tendrils spilling from her scalp down her shoulders, and what I can see of her ears (which seem to just be knobby holes in the sides of her head) are largely obscured by those tendrils. Deep violet lips purse thoughtfully on her pretty mouth as she watches me appraise her.

I sigh, looking to Zaz and slowly lowering the crossbow, focusing back on the... whatever she is. "Alright. Friend, I guess. What do I call you? What are you?"

A calm smile touches her lips, and she tilts her head curiously to the side. "I have many questions for you as well, slender one; but you are fair to ask first. I am called Syssyx, though others often call me simply Syx. As for what I am, that will require more explanation. Perhaps we can speak indoors?"

I growl quietly, probing Zaz's mind for advice, or an answer. Frustratingly, his mind is open but lacking the suspicion that's kept us alive for so long. Without the use of my own abilities though, I have little choice but to trust him. "Alright, come on up. My name's Raine, Raine Leclair. This is Zazkoroth." The tentacle-beast looks to me, squeezing his single eye shut in a catlike expression of contentment. I just pray he's right on this.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"So you're... let me get this straight. You're like a... hybrid?"

"Correct," Syx nods. Her jacket is all the way removed now as she sits on the couch of our apartment, showing dark, heavily-stitched cloth and leather tatters that appear terribly abused, but well repaired. They fit nicely to her form, as well, giving me a decent look at her long legs, full thighs and hips, and immodestly high, round breasts, offering a hint of cleavage through one of the wide-slashed holes in her top. "When the Cracking occurred, I was a teenager, perhaps a few years older than you. The Young soon found me and kept me intact, safe, while they... fertilized me."

"Fertilized? Like with eggs?" My brows knit together in confusion and slight annoyance. Even with as much info as she's giving, I'm having a tough time getting it all, and really don't like when she talks to Zaz -- I can't understand either of them, and only by reading Zaz's thoughts do I get the barest inkling of what they're discussing.

"Something like that, but different. I was both the carrier and the offspring, bringing the seeds of Those Beyond to term before being... birthed. I'm both human and Young One, a child of the earth and stars." She smiles at me, as if trying to make that weird-ass pill any easier to swallow. I arch a brow and glance at Zaz, then back at her.

"You keep saying Young Ones. What does that... y'know. Mean?"

She follows my line of sight, nodding at Zazkoroth, who burbles contently. "There are creatures beyond the veil so much older than what we can imagine. Content in their dreams, too large to be noticed. It was when a new litter of such creatures were belched into reality that the Cracking occurred. Your friend here is one of the Young, child to that which is so much less finite."

I sit still, slumped on the arm of the couch, for a long moment. This is all like... an other shoe I never expected to drop. I've spent years in this dying world and never knew anything about why the Cracking happened, or thought anyone else might still be alive. The train of thought reminds me of something, though, and I look back up. "You mentioned you were traveling with other people. Are they still with you?"

"They're at a camp, some miles from here, well-hidden," Syx nods. "About ten of us, men and women. A few have slight mutations, but most are very healthy. I was traveling away from camp to look for supplies -- the deranged are always fascinated with me, but never attack, so it seemed safest to send me ahead." I watch her as she talks, watch her... mouth, specifically. Her tongue seems too long and too flexible, more closely resembling one of Zazkoroth's tentacles than what I have. Guess it checks out with her story, and explains the accent, but I find myself wanting a good ten or twenty seconds to just examine it. Brief glimpses are only leaving me more and more curious as to what the fuck its deal is.

"What were you looking for? We might be able to make some trades. Or..." I can feel Zaz thinking what I'm thinking, yet with none of the hesitation, urging me to make an offer I'm unsure is wise.

"How longst hath you pined for others like you?" he warbles, "Perhappings this is the moment you have been waiting for. A c0mmunity of legwalkers, someones beyond simply The Zaz."

I mentally hiss at him to keep quiet, but I don't know how much he's able to relay to Syssyx. Fuck, I don't know how those two communicate at all. I inhale deeply and face the newcomer more directly. "If your camp is safe, maybe you wouldn't mind having two more. Provided the others are willing to tolerate a... young whatever, in their midst."

"They tolerate me perfectly well," Syx says serenely, then stretches back out onto the couch. "But I grow weary after my sojourn out into the rest of the city. Do you have a place where I can rest, or maybe bathe? I would love to discuss this more later."

"You sleep? Figured you wouldn't need to. Zaz doesn't."

"My body doesn't require inactivity, but my mind... grows less healthy if I do not connect to the world of dreams. An element of my nature, be it unique or not."

I nod, jerking one thumb over towards the bathroom and the makeshift shower Zaz and I jury-rigged into it. "Got a shower. Fuck, you can sleep in my bed if you've got some food in that pack of yours."

"You're welcome to what food I have gathered, yes," she says, before a coy smolder touches those ghostly blue eyes. "Though I might have hoped you'd have other reasons to want me to share your bed."

"I-- that wasn't what I--" I stammer, a pink flush immediately overtaking my face.

"Be at ease, friend," she purrs, standing and gesturing to the bag, then making her way to the bathroom. My mind races unexpectedly as I watch the door shut behind her, but first I rush for the bag, digging through and pulling out the most unexpected, most beautiful thing I've seen since before the Cracking -- beef jerky.

I stuff a handful into my mouth, then toss a few strips at Zaz, who pounces on it like a waiting cat to engulf it with his body, taking into whatever awful stomach is underneath him. My eyes flick back towards the bathroom door, though. Syx seemed... pretty openly interested in me, and despite having spent such a long time with Zaz, I have to admit, I've spent a long time thinking about what it'd be like to be with someone else. A human, or something close, anyway. Another woman. Just someone different to ease the ever-deepening sting of loneliness that pervades every instant of this bleak, broken world. I lick my lips, glancing at the dark purple abomination next to me. "Do you... do you think I should follow her?"

"This mind thinkz yoU should do as your instincts demand, hy00m. She is a rambuncious specimen, yEs?"

"Yeah... yeah she is," I swallow hard, looking back to the door. "And we really should conserve water. In case we don't decide to go with her." I take a breath to steady myself, slipping my shirt up over my head and unfastening my skirt, opening the door to hear the gentle sound of water spraying against the bathtub floor. Shredded nylon stockings and panties follow, and for once I don't worry about the ineffective nub of my dick -- Syssyx has tentacles on her head, she can't complain. We all have our quirks.

"You decided to join, yes?" her soft, lilting voice greets me from behind the shower curtain. I can't see more than a silhouette, but what an enchanting silhouette it is.

"Smart to conserve water," I say quietly, biting my lip, hesitating one more instant before drawing open the curtain and climbing inside. Syx is... beautiful, her face as much as her body. Her smooth lilac skin is already wet from the shower, the tentacles descending down her neck glimmering with moisture. Her breasts are a few cups larger than my own, her nipples a deeper shade of violet. I'm now also able to notice that her feet bear only three toes, the same as her hands, which have three fingers with the addition of a thumb. Not the only thing she has an unusual amount of -- while I can't say I had concrete expectations of what would be between her legs, and that Syx having a cock about four times the size of mine wasn't at all unanticipated, the fact that she has two of them is definitely jarring.

I try not to appear rattled, but the small smile that touches the hybrid girl's lips shows that she notices anyway. "You're even cuter with your clothes off," she coos, extending one arm to fold lightly around my slim waist, pulling me towards her so that we can share the weak stream of water coming from above. I try not to squeak or squirm when I feel her breasts press against my smaller ones, and when I feel my petite girldick squish into her pair of far more impressive ones. "I'm... glad, that you decided to join me, Raine."

"I'm... I, th-thanks..." I whisper up to her, swallowing hard. The height difference is more apparent than ever, as Syssyx towers nearly a full foot above me, but I melt as her other arm winds around me, her lips coming down to meet me in a long, unexpected kiss. And... it's incredible. I've had a lot of good times with Zaz -- and still plan to -- but there's something so different about this connection, the ability to be held and embraced like this, her hands sliding up and down my hips and sides. I lean up into her, kissing back, feeling that strange tongue slide past my lips and into my mouth. It's a little firmer than mine, yet a little more flexible too, and I swear I can feel tiny suction cups at its underside, controlling my mouth and the kiss in a whirlwind of flesh that leaves me breathless.

One of my hands drapes along her hip, while the other slides between us, using the water to glide up her smooth skin to cup and fondle one breast while we make out, feeling the nipple, pinching and pressing it eagerly back and forth. I can feel a fire rising inside my chest, a new feeling, my pent-up lust seeking to release itself in a new way... though with the sensation of those two thick girldicks gradually rising to life, something tells me her technique will have certain similarities to what I'm used to. Joke's on her, my ass is trained to handle any amount of abuse. I'm not sure why I'm proud of that, but for some reason, I definitely am.

I let out a gasp as she turns with me, pressing me against the shower wall and tilting down, licking around and then firmly sucking one of my pierced nipples, drawing a wail of excitement from me as she crouches in front of me. I reach down, getting a handful of the tendrils she has in place of hair, watching her lap and bite at my tiny, sensitive boobs. Both of her dicks are completely erect now, imposingly so, each looking to be around nine inches in length. As pleasurable and intense as her mouth is, I can't help but wonder what her ideas are. "What are you... p-plans for... pphhh... those...?" I pant. The fact that I can't invade her mind is thrilling, mysterious. She's truly unpredictable, and being left in the dark as to what she's thinking is like going swimming in pitch darkness -- terrifying and relaxing at the same time.

"Ordinarily, a beautiful girl like you-- mmmn-- I'd have a few holes play with," she coos, biting down lightly on my nipple bar, tilting it sideways and drawing a yelp. "But I see the Young have touched you in their own way. Shall I use only one?"

The answer that immediately comes to mind is no fucking way, but I should be realistic. Zaz always starts slow and gives me time to adjust. "One at first, but... I... I can t-take both," I hook one leg around her hips, bucking and grinding against her, rubbing my sensitive, if impuissant, member against her breast while she bites and nuzzles at my nipples. "Oh fff... f-fuck me--!"