The Great Writhing Thing

Despite being alive for twenty-three years and interested in kissing people for at least nine of those, the kiss that had upturned Cephal's life was also their first. They didn't regret it.

On the Saturday evening following their first week at their first 'real' job at Be Wired, they came to Kim's house. Cephal and Kim stayed up playing chess and lamenting the personalities of Cephal's coworkers. Cephal sipped at their cider and moved their knight. "Me being me, I tried to explain that he's a fascist. They did not take that well. I got reported to HR and now there's a no politics policy in the office. Literally no-one will talk to me now."

"Hey, well, you tried and that's more than most people would do." Kim took a lowly, unprotected pawn. "I admire that."

The game had ended in a long hug that made Cephal cry. Instead of awkwardness or apprehension, Kim joked, "Are my hugs that good?" Cephal told her that they were that good, and that she was too.

Then she pressed her lips into theirs and Cephal cried again.

A week later, Frasier's militia imposed a mandatory lockdown as they swept the city. The day after that Cephal found out why. All the news stations showed footage of something that looked like Kim outside a butcher shop. The nude thing squatted on the edge of a bin filled with discarded meat, facing away the shaking camera person. Something sticky and sleek dangled from its prolapsed vagina. The Kim-thing was dropping lumps of black mucus and raspberry-shaped clutches of eggs into the rotting meat below.

Kim-thing's head snapped around. With her new, much longer tongue, she wetted both her original eyes and the new rounder ones that sprouted on her bulging neck like cherries. The camera person ran away.

Even if she'd Bloomed, Cephal still rooted for her. They didn't know what happened to those affected by Lazarus Rose pollen--but if any part of Kim remained, they wanted her to be happy. Frasier's militia, however, had other plans. They ended the curfew with an announcement that the threat had been eliminated. The crowd cheered. Frasier himself went on to call for stricter screening and tighter border controls.

As Cephal spooned yogurt into their mouth and watched this announcement, people in suits from The Wash Investigative Division arrived at their apartment. Cephal was handcuffed and the investigators calmly explained that they were at severe risk of Blooming due to close contact with an infected individual. They were placed in the back of a van with seven other people with whom Kim had most likely had close relations.

The Wash Investigative Division agents drove the un/lucky suitors out into the forest surrounding The Wash and gave them backpacks with three weeks' worth of rations.

Cephal did not know where to go, the others, who were mostly older, seemed confident.

It was only on the second night that Cephal realized they were going to the nearest city, Bubble.

"Do you think they'll take us in?" they asked. It was the first time they had spoken since their arrest.

"Why wouldn't they?" a man with a moustache replied. Cephal recalled seeing Kim holding his arm in a photo once. He had such a goofy expression then.

"Well, if Wash sends word ahead of us, they might be just as paranoid about the Bloom. They'll put us in the slums." No-one seemed surprised by this, and no more words were said on the matter.

Eventually Cephal turned around and walked the opposite direction--towards the mountains, away from the cities that they knew would reject them.

***

Cephal had never seen a natural valley before. They did not know if it was normal that the river at the bottom wriggled with white worms (each half as thick as one of their arms). The worms swam downwards, with the river's natural current, although that current was hardly visible on account of the sheer number of creatures.

As they descended into humidity of the valley, droplets formed on their face and trailed onto their lips. It tasted like the air smelled, of chlorine and wet earth.

Sat beside the river, Cephal picked the dirt from under their fingers. They were looking forward to washing the sweat out of their hair and clothes. The water would also have been a welcome ally against the sun's incessant heat. Maybe they're friendly? Cephal wondered. They reached over to the river but withdrew their hand again. Maybe they're hungry. Instead, they watched the oddly rhythmic motion of the worms; the ones at the top would undulate their bodies, pushing forward, while the ones at the bottom would hold still and support the ones above. The upper worms would then descend, and the roles would be reversed.

All in all, a mesmerizing sight.

If they had not been thrown out of the city, they would never have seen such a phenomenon. This was only a small comfort; whether or not the worms were hungry, Cephal was. The last of their food had run out over a day ago. If only they'd rationed more diligently from the beginning--even though they knew they wouldn't have had the energy to make it this far if they'd done. They'd foraged to bolster their main supply, but they hardly knew which things were edible and had already suffered a bout of food poisoning.

This close they saw just how soft the worms' bodies were, like they could be ripped apart like wet paper. Did they taste like wet paper too? As long as they filled their stomach, Cephal wouldn't have minded, but the more important issue was if they were willing to eat another creature to survive? Certainly, they'd not judge anyone else for doing it.

No, it was not a moral problem. It was that worms would satisfy only one of Cephal's hungers. Only now that they had the undeniable hollowness of their stomach as a reference did they understand just how numerous their hungers were; they could be satisfied with nothing but an arm over them while they slept, a tongue in their mouth, and the scent of someone else's hair on their pillow.

The stream of worms had begun to thin, revealing the flowing water. The chlorinated scent dissipated too. Since the river was now available to them, Cephal wet their face, scrubbed their nails, and filled their canteen with water. It would be so easy to quench their thirst now, but the memory of their recent illness stopped them. They would boil the water once they reached the top of the hill.

Cephal walked slowly along the bank of the river, towards the source of the worms. Although they could not see the nearest peak of the valley, they spotted a hand shoot up and wave at them.

The sight elated Cephal. They ran towards the welcoming stranger, shouting "Hello? Hey!" and other such greetings. A smile cracked their dry lips. Finally, someone to talk to, they thought. Yet something was off. The hand seemed no closer despite the distance traversed. Cephal's perspective was all wrong.

They slowed down as they came to the top of the hill.

The hand was not just over the edge but instead attached to some gargantuan structure draped over the distant hills with no end in either direction. It was just one of a waving mass, each skeletal and much larger than a person, spread over the entirety of the thing's body which curved tangent to the river. That body had the sheen of wet clay and loomed almost twice Cephal's height. It had indented the ground around it so that it sat in a trough of its own making.

There were other appendages too: muscular legs spaced regularly as far as Cephal could see; tendrils, some which seemed like they could snap a birch tree, and other smaller ones which sprouted sporadically in patches like wriggling sea anemones; and here along the side of the creature were rows and rows of penises. Or something like penises, except longer and bumpier. Each twitched writhed and would occasionally spew some lumpy white substance out of its circular hole.

Now that Cephal had a moment to process the scale of the thing, they noticed the people attending to the creature's sexual organs. These fevered nudists were coated in substances which no doubt came from the long worm. Some of them gripped the organs and directed their ejaculate into buckets, while others had given their own orifices to the same purpose. Those who did moaned unashamedly as their bellies and wombs bloated.

Others had positioned their rears and hips over the edge of the river and were letting the worms drop out of them.

So entranced in their orgy, the people had also yet to notice Cephal. A few, which were not occupied by the creature, had gathered around something on the edge of the river. Cephal approached slowly both because of how heavy their limbs had gotten and because they did not want to risk angering these people. They knew that regardless this might be the end of them yet could not find any part of themselves that cared.

Someone was at the center of the congregation, held up by a man and a woman. His belly was taught and swollen, and he moaned in a way quite unlike the others. A fat white worm, its grooves lined with blood, was being gently spooled out by the other man who wore a white lab coat. It wriggled with the anticipation of freedom. Once extracted, it joined its siblings down the river. The one in the lab coat whispered something into the man's ear.

The round, black head of the next worm emerged from his torn anus, and so the process continued.

The birthing man's long dark hair was slick against his chest and body, his face patterned with straining veins, and his penis was similarly engorged. He opened his eyes. They were dark brown and bloodshot. He smiled at Cephal before his attention was snapped back to the task at hand by his companion whose hands were cupped over the worm. He grunted as the head emerged; this one was much larger than the previous; with each inch he managed to coax out, the birthing man's stomach bulged a little less.

As the wind changed direction, the long worm's sweet-metal scent washed over Cephal. Their head felt light and their legs like wet ropes. Cephal's heart sped up and their breath caught in their throat. Then their knees gave way and they fell forward to a kneeling position but could not pull their gaze from the strange birth.

"I'm going to have to enlarge the opening," the lab-coated man said.

The dark-haired man gritted his teeth. "Just don't hurt it."

"Of course not." The one in the lab coat stroked the other's face tenderly then hurried to retrieve a scalpel from his nearby bag. He wiped his hand along the worm's side, gathering a layer of mucus, and slathered this over the knife. Finally, he made an incision, starting below the man's tailbone and slowly working upwards. The man's anguished grunts lasted only a moment before the fat worm launched out of him and slithered into the river. It left a trail of blood and mucus floating on the surface.

The people cheered and hugged each other. The one in the lab coat kissed his companion. Then he noticed Cephal.

"Who are you?" he asked. He blinked, confused, then started towards them.

"I'm--." Cephal tried to stand up. Instead, they fell forward onto the moist dirt and caught themselves awkwardly before crumpling where they lay. They didn't feel it when the man in the lab coat put his hand on their back and gently shook them for a response, but they did notice their perspective shift from the ground to the sky.

***

They sat on the lower of a pair of bunk beds, in a small unfamiliar room, and accepted a glass of water from the man who had been in the lab coat but was then wearing some fluffy red bathrobes.

The robed man said something. Cephal didn't hear because the only thing they could think was that this was the comfiest bed they'd ever slept on, and that if they never had to leave it, they never would.

"Do you think you can eat something?" he repeated as he looked towards a plate of food placed upon the dresser nearby.

"I would eat anything." Cephal took a final big gulp of water and accepted the plate. It contained a lumpy roll and a fruit that looked like a pomegranate except the seeds were almost three times as large.

"Eat it slowly," the man instructed as he sat beside Cephal.

Cephal, mouth already stuffed full of bread, nodded.

"So, who are you? I'm Marc."

Marc waited for Cephal to finish the chunk of bread in their mouth. It was thick and fluffy and aromatic, and they almost didn't want to swallow it. Did food always taste this good? When they gulped the last of it down, they said, "I'm Cephal. I'm from The Wash."

"I'm not familiar with The Wash. A nearby city?"

"Yes," Cephal replied. They wondered if they should since anyone who worshipped what was presumably a Bloomed creature likely had no affection for those who lived in the cities.

Still, Marc had been kind and they saw no reason to keep it secret. Indeed, Cephal had no idea there were even people who lived outside the cities, so it would be presumptuous to guess their opinions.

Marc leaned back on his chair and crossed his legs. "I thought so. It's rare that someone like you comes here, but you all have the same airs about you. Lost, half-dead, confused, then terrified once they see The Great Writhing Thing. Then you run away."

"Yeah ... what is that? Did I see what I thought I saw?" Cephal picked up a slice of the pomegranate-like fruit and took a cautious bite. It was almost unbearably sweet and salty. They were glad they didn't stuff it into their mouth. Yet, as the taste faded, their mouth watered for more, so they picked at the seeds.

"What do you think you saw?" Marc asked. Seeing his face up close, Cephal guessed he wasn't much older than they were.

"A massive worm with many hands and ... other organs."

A slow nod confirmed Cephal's summary. "You saw correctly. The 'massive worm,' as you call it, is The Great Writhing Thing who provides for all of us who live in these mountains. A really marvelous creature--I've been studying it for some years now and I've got many more questions than when I started. There are not many who appreciate it--as I said, most runaway once they see it. Yet you did not. Is that just because you're too weak?"

Cephal sucked down a few more seeds and wiped the red from their lips, although they failed to get all of it. "I wasn't afraid. More confused than anything. There was another man--giving birth?"

"Ah," Marc said. "That is Kieran, my partner. I should check on him. He's in much worse condition than you but recovering. Come, he wants to speak to you."

With that, Marc stood up and led Cephal out of the room into a corridor and then into an identical room next door. Kieran grinned right at Marc and then Cephal. He was no longer so red and wet. "Ah! You've brought the lost grub back from death. Well done, doc."

Marc laughed. "As I just said, you're in far worse condition than Cephal." He sat beside Kieran and pushed his finger through his partner's thick hair.

"Nothing you can't fix." Kieran pulled Marc closer and kissed him. Then he looked towards Cephal. "And hello to you, stranger. Cephal, is it? You were quite the pleasant sight coming up that hill."

"I was?" Cephal asked.

Kieran gave a single enthusiastic nod. "Of course. I thought to myself, I must at least not pass out so I can introduce myself to this beautiful person as soon as possible."

The best Cephal could do in response was blink.

"And somehow you managed even with the blood loss," Marc added. "Although your beautiful stranger did pass out, so it was all for naught." He moved to stand up, but Kieran held fast to his arm.

"Hey, wait." Kieran moved a finger to his lips. "I've got some pains, doc."

"Oh really?" Marc's tone was bemused. "Should I hazard a guess as to where? The same place as the last two times?"

"Well, I can't help it." Kieran lifted the sheets to reveal a full-mast erection. "The seeds you put in me gets me going like nothing else."

Marc's expression softened and their mouth hung a little open. Their sight fixed at the same place Cephal's had.

Were most penises so large, Cephal wondered? It extended an inch above his bellybutton and had girth in proportion to the rest of his ample body. Certainly, Cephal's own--which was itself enlarging--did not reach that height. They imagined it would get inconvenient if it did.

"It's not ... meant to. It probably just presses against your prostate." Even as he explained away Kieran's horniness, he took a kneeling position at the side of the bed and put is mouth over Kieran's purple tip, eyes closed as if he were praying.

The reverence of the act snapped Cephal out of their trance, and they instantly turned away. They put their handle on the door when Kieran spoke up to them.

"Does this bother you?" he asked.

It was a question Cephal had not considered. "No," they said. "It doesn't bother me. I just thought you'd want privacy."

Cephal turned around to face their hosts again. Marc had taken Kieran's dick out of his mouth and tapped it against his own smile. "If we wanted privacy, we'd have asked you to leave. You can look if you want. I appreciate it when my love for Kieran is witnessed." Marc closed his eyes again and kissed Kieran's glans, letting the precum coat his lips.

"You're also welcome to join too." Kieran placed his hand over the back of Marc's head and pushed it further down. "Despite years of trying, he has never been able to fit the whole thing in his mouth."

"I'm not sure I want to do that." Cephal recalled the sight of Kieran birthing the thing and their mind fabricated further images of him letting The Great Writhing Thing invade his body. "I'll just sit here."

The lovers continued as if Cephal was not there. "Do you always show off to your guests?" they asked.

Since Marc's lips were otherwise occupied with dick, Kieran answered. "Yes," he moaned as Marc hit a particularly nice section. "Well, maybe not. We simply have sex, and they happen to be in the room. Sometimes they do try to help. Oh, yes, keep doing that."

Marc bobbed his head although the angle was too awkward to get any real speed. This seemed to frustrate Kieran who started bucking hips. He was quickly chided with a slap on his hip.

A trail of spit hung between Marc's mouth and Kieran's dick as he lifted away. "You're still injured. If you pop your stitches and bleed all over the bed, I'm not going to clean it."

"Sorry, doc, you feel too good."

"I know." Marc licked along Kieran's shaft and started rubbing himself beneath his robe. His breathing sped up. "You taste better every time."

Before they realized it, Cephal was also breathing in time with Marc. Would their hosts mind if they touched themselves too? Maybe it was even the polite thing to do in this case, a sign of appreciation. Although the couple were so enraptured with each other that neither would even notice one way or the other. Cephal at least undid their belt and placed their hand over their own dick. They were surprised at how firm it felt. Even more so than the night Kim kissed them.

The image of Kim's Bloomed form pushed into their thoughts--they gasped. They imagined her crawling into their bedroom window on all fours. She'd unfurl her meter long tongue, wrap it around their head, and then pull them close. Albeit intrusive, the thought did not make Cephal softer. Instead, they were surprised to notice the desk shake as they stroked themselves with vigor.

They alternately thought about Kim--about seeing their reflection in her many eyes as they entered her--and watched the lovers in front of them, moaning and pressing into each other as deeply as they could, as if they wanted to become one person. Maybe I could help, Cephal wondered, maybe the weight of Kieran's balls would feel good on my tongue.

When Cephal came, they almost fell off the chair. The wave of pleasure lasted almost a minute. The couple noticed this and were spurred on; Marc sped up the motions beneath the blanket until the entire bunk was vibrating and moaned into the flesh occupying his mouth.