Everything Under the Sun Ch. 01byEasyTarget©
This is another story I was afraid to put out because it's even weirder than usual. Stay with me. We're going for a ride this time.
One usually begins a report or account by giving one's name, and lacking this recourse I am unsure where to start. My name, as well as logistical facts about my origins have been redacted from my own mind in case I am captured by any hostile entity following my emergence. The details of my former home are also largely lost to me now, save that in this forsaken world, my place of birth was one of the few safe places in it, at the price of being completely isolated from all else in the world. While perfectly content to live out entire natural lives in seclusion, every so often this enclave recognizes the necessity of appraising the state of things external to their domicile. These excursions are carried on completely in secret, their circumstances and findings entirely obfuscated from the rest of the population for reasons I'm sure I am on the verge of discovering firsthand, although the guesses that leap to mind are not encouraging. Namely, either the truth is too unsettling to burden the already difficult lives of the citizenry, or none sent to uncover the truth ever return. How these so-called explorers are chosen does nothing to improve my outlook; apparently we are all...transgressors of some sort. I would seem to be no different, and while details of my own crime were also for some reason obscured, I do know they were centered around some act of indecency. While grim and uncertain would seem my fate, I do remember choosing this fate over a potentially bleaker one...
For all the Caste took away, I rather optimistically consider what they gave in exchange to be at least adequate compensation considering the circumstances. If you are reading this log of my travels, it is because it has been transcribed onto paper or carved into clay or perhaps smeared partially in blood preceding my demise, but it as of now is being composed in my own psyche owing to the dubious gift of photographic memory. Whatever I may have lost or had taken for my safety or the safety of another, anything I experience going forward will be remembered with perfect clarity, every word of this log included. Should I return alive and with enough pertinent information to satisfy my betters, I am promised restoration of the missing portions of my memory. And with any luck, my status.
Status. I don't even remember what my job was.
Considering that this report could theoretically be transcribed for the review of anyone, I feel I should include a history of what is known about events following our isolation. This too is sketchy, either from sparse exploration on our part, *unsuccessful* exploration on our part, or another result of tampering with my own neurology. Without a sun the quantification of time becomes largely speculative, so falling back on the primitive measure of "generations," the story begins several of these ago when humanity discovered a new kind of energy. What transpired following this breakthrough occurred too quickly to be fully understood, but the entire planet changed immediately. The color of the sun, or the lens by which we view it, changed, and with it all life. Radical mutations of the flora, rampant extinctions of fauna, and humanity...
As we understand it, 52% of the human race stayed the same on the whole. It was the males who succumbed. Completely, as far as we know. Somehow innately and unstably aligned with this new energy permeating the world, they began to mutate as well, almost overnight becoming part of this harsh, new alien ecosystem. How or if humanity survives outside isolation is, I imagine, part of my mission. How it survives inside isolation is a mystery to me on this side of the glass, but if I had to guess I would imagine some number of human males survive in isolation and that such knowledge would also be redacted considering their scarcity now. The fact that I know what a male is would support this, but the important point is that where I'm going I expect to see scattered few at most.
I'm waiting now. The large door behind me is where I come from. The large door before me is where I'm going. I am to rest here and recover from my conditioning, hopefully get some sleep, but honestly I'm using this time to "play with" my new memetic powers. It's amazing. I can look back on this entire chapter, every word before me like an open book lying on the mantlepiece of my mind, each word inviolate and permanent. The long-winded introduction has a lot to do with marveling at just how much I can pack into my memory without any signs that it might fail.
I also recognize the inability to forget any detail will rapidly lose its novelty and cease to feel like a gift before my excursion is over...
The lights came on, and I awoke to see the door opening. Red, flashing, spinning, accompanied by loud klaxon sounds which were enough to abolish my resolution to spend my first day in the relative safety of the chamber just observing. The earsplitting noise and nauseating warning lights drove me out in time for the large door. I think it's been about an hour since it closed behind me. I am riveted here by a mixture of fear and wonderment.
I was led to believe the sun would blind me, and nearly it did, but it wasn't the bright yellow circle history holds it to have been once. Not only is the sun several shades dimmer, it's pink, a deep rose. It sits at its apex, but I have trouble applying to this time the vaunted title of "day." Among my supplies were a pair of lenses to protect me from the light, but I find myself with no use for them after having tried them for barely a quarter hour. Despite the lack of light, it is very hot and humid. I continue loosening the ample garments I was wearing when I emerged and I'm already soaking the innermost layers with sweat. Standing under this sun also instills an uneasy feeling I can't quite place as yet.
I'm on top of a hill, or more accurately a stack of stepped cliffs, and if I don't find a way down I'll understand why nobody comes back from these excursions, but from here I can see nothing but desolation in all directions, except for what appears to be a darkly-colored lake.
I was not hopeful to begin with, but the desert surrounding me has put the great weight of hopelessness upon me.
I've spent enough time on this rock that the sun is setting. For lack of anything else to do, I expect tomorrow I'll set out to explore the area surrounding this stepped hill.
I awoke with the rosy sun, hot and dim again. I found a safe way down from where I began and started off into the wastes, trying not to venture out of sight of what I've come to simply call The Rock.
The entire venture proved fruitless (even the pond was shallow, rocky and hot) except for one thing. A few degrees East of the pond, I found what appears to be a dead tree. It was twisted and dry, no taller than myself, and I drew it on the pad I was provided, labeled D1-A if it should still survive by the time this is read. If it does not, I would describe it as a sorrowful-looking thing that looks to have had at least a few vines and roots extending from it, perhaps culminating in some sort of ground cover. Maybe I should take a sample of it or something.
As of now I have returned to The Rock to make camp once more, a trick I know I can't rely on forever, but puts me somewhere "familiar" and "safe" for now.
Walking around in this sun all day has taken its toll. It is very hot and I've drank a lot of my water. I find myself carrying most of my clothing, a mistake I won't make tomorrow. The pink color makes my eyes weary, and there's something else about it that goes right through my clothes to my skin. I cannot place it, but I intend to sleep in some sort of shade tonight.
It is alive.
It is the same tree, standing in the same place by the same large rock in the same relation to the black pond. It isn't much less twisted or dry than it was yesterday, but small fruit hangs from its vine-like branches. Even more remarkably, it is the same color as the sun, rosy and pink. Also remarkably, it is now leaning in a different direction, and seems to be pointing, almost reaching toward The Rock. How did this happen?
This fruit. It looks incredibly inviting. I prepare to taste it. Knowing the danger of ingesting such things, I intend to take all caution possible (smelling for poison, tasting a small quantity at a time, etc.), but judging by my situation, I feel I have nothing at all to lose.
I remember. So much. But most importantly I remember my dream from my second night. It wasn't a dream.
I attributed them to the loneliness, or my crumbling sanity or maybe just an entire day under that accursed sun, but I remember intense feelings culminating in my body, and on my skin. In this state, my hand found its way to indecent places, and began a procedure I had no memory of performing before with a skill I could not attribute, and soon I was quite immersed. My other hand engaged certain areas of my sternum. The culmination of this was not only an intense and overwhelming sensation in my body, but another effect that manifested physically as well. I was glowing.
Perhaps that term is too strong, but my skin had taken on a dim aura, like a vapor or haze around my skin, centered on the more sensitive areas involved in the unorthodox massage my hands were skillfully performing. It was rosy pink. The same color as the sun. And, I realize now, the fruit.
I was prepared to forget this incident as the product of my hampered mind. Then I tasted the fruit.
It was so sweet, even after the smallest taste, all I wanted was more. I think I ate all of them. After filling myself rather guiltily, I sat against the tree, resting, where I fell asleep.
I slept deeply, on into the night, in the open. The only reason I even know a whole day went by is that I remember awakening during the night and once again to the sensation of enacting yet another unfamiliar procedure upon myself, to the result of another bout of incandescence, brighter than before. I believe this occurred several times.
I awoke under the tree the following day. It took me a moment to notice I'd changed position. Another moment to realize I was held that way. And one more to realize I was nude. A quick glance about me showed that the tree had grown. More fruit, more branches, more color, and even some vines had extended to cover the ground, reaching outward about five feet in all directions. I had been moved. I was kneeling with my legs wrapped around the tree behind me, tangled in the roots of the base. My arms were held above my head against the now-thicker trunk of the tree, wrapped in thin vines. I was held vulnerably and in full view of the sun and anything to happen by. I began to panic and struggle at this point, only to begin squirming at an intrusive sensation. Something was certainly where it didn't belong. I craned my neck to see that a flower had grown between my spread thighs. It had four petals, and the insides were slick and slimy with some kind of nectar, which lubricated a fleshy protrusion that was...inside me. Struggling caused intense...stimulation...and I found the sensation amplified by the nectar of the plant, and it grew more insistent the more it happened. Already I was tingling, even detecting a slight ache. It caused a twitch, which did nothing to help the situation, which in turn caused another. Soon I was using my entire effort to hold still, and this too was being mitigated by my own body. I was shaking. This action alone was enough to stimulate me until shivering became convulsing, and convulsing gave way to surrender. I thrust and gyrated my hips to meet the thing, desperate to feel it deeper, until once again, I was glowing. It was much harder to see in broad daylight, but I'm certain it was there.
I screamed. My memetic curse held me to every motion and made me remember each release until the final moment I lost consciousness. I awoke, I believe, the following day. I was lifted.
I didn't have much time to assess the situation, but the tree had grown very much larger. In fact, the immediate area had sprouted into green, but the tree itself possessed the most initiative. The flower that had been "under" me was gone, but it had found the resources to pick me up on its own. It had grown thick vines, which I found myself wrapped in, my arms again above my head, my thighs lifted apart, fully revealing me. My mouth instinctively tried to scream, but was immediately filled with something slick. It was another flower, this time on the end of a vine, and the protrusion now occupied my mouth. Its sticky petals wrapped around my face, holding itself in place in my mouth, and I was silenced, and now being forced to swallow its intoxicating nectar as it was secreted down my throat. The effect was gradual, but the tree was glad to wait as my body began to burn. I found myself wishing for another flower before long. It held me, to face the sun it seemed, for as long as it took for me to begin to whimper, tears beginning to wet my cheeks, and familiar twitching to begin in my hips before it lazily turned me to meet more of its prehensile tendrils. Another flower capped the end of the largest of these. It boasted much larger size than the flower of yesterday. I was horrified by this, as well as my body's involuntary struggles to meet it. It wasted no time. It did not impale me completely, nor did it seal itself to my hips like the one in my mouth did, but saw fit to expertly manipulate me, teasing me in ways I would have tearfully protested if I could. The oral flower had begin similar motions in my mouth, sliding across my tongue, in and out, worsening the thing's hold on my body, until finally it completed the procedure. This time a new side effect occurred. I emitted a fluid I thought was urine at the time, but would find out later was a torrent of my own natural lubricant. It proceeded to cause this effect several times over the next hour or so, making certain to cause me to ejaculate on the roots of the tree itself. With each release, the tree's hold seemed to become stronger, until finally, an interesting thing happened. After feasting on me for some time, my mind began to clear as I became aware that its grip was somewhat...lopsided. It was then I noticed that some of the vines began to die. Even in my dim, exhausted state, it made sense. Locomotion is extremely taxing on a plant. The effort is very costly, often ending in the death and shedding of the appendage in question. It was a wonder that it had held me this long. Roughly half the vines now hung limp and all of them were becoming discolored and dry. Finally the one between my legs began to fail. It was about then I managed to free myself enough to remove it. It could muster little effort to resist, and free at last, I rested on the roots of the tree, which I noted was several magnitudes larger than before. It bore multitudes of rose-colored fruit and flowers, and the branches reached toward the rosy sun. And indeed, I could not see very far around me as dense growth had occurred all around the tree itself.
My heart began to sink a little. All these vines and ground covers and fungi all bore at least some of the same rose tint of the tree above me
My head became clearer. And I began to remember things. Terminology. That "procedure" on the hill. I was masturbating. Pleasuring myself. Where the accompanying glow was coming from I couldn't say, nor could I determine why I was only remembering these things now. I knew that the flower was stimulating my clitoris and G-spot. I knew the word for what had just happened to me was "rape." Then all kinds of things began to make sense to me. I'd been driven to masturbate by the sun. When I came, I glowed in the same rose hue I'd been bathed in all day, releasing its energy. The tree had responded. It subsisted from this energy. Fed my desire, grew and spread. And surely the flora that surrounded me would be wanting more...
I slept in the relative safe zone under the tree, which left me be, seemingly satisfied, but I knew I'd have to escape somehow the following morning. When the morning came, I was not at all looking forward to the task ahead. I was forced to eat the fruit proffered by the tree, lacking any alternative, and gave in to my urge to satisfy my thirst on the nectar of a low-hanging flower. It was more than happy to dispense this fluid after I peeled it open, and it came all over me as I gingerly licked the stuff from its phallic stamen, squirting the slippery stuff all over my breasts. I needed to masturbate. Then and there I was ready to use the flower on myself, but I was afraid how the plants around me would react, as they seemed to be...closer now. I took a moment to compose myself (a wasted effort), and tried to pass through the area the wall of green was lowest. My feet and ankles were immediately covered in slime, as was the rest of me as I slipped and stumbled my way through the dense growth. While none of it seemed to match the power of the tree I'd just abandoned, when I held still long enough, usually after falling, tiny appendages would grow slowly toward my nipples, vagina and mouth. They could sense it, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to just lie there and wait for them to reach me. I did not proceed very far before they did. Some patches of the brush were more dense than others, and more powerful it seems, as I discovered a sneakier, more enthusiastic species of vine, which wrapped immediately around my ankles, lashed around my wrists, produced phallic extremities, and violated me. They weren't interested in teasing. I came intensely and vocally, and that was that. The vines died and I was released. As I shakily regained my step, having been momentarily exhausted, it seemed the plants were having a harder time detecting me, and I was able to make some progress. Nonetheless, it took me all day to escape what had now become a jungle. I was routinely seized and raped, each species of assailing foliage more bizarre than the last. I was dragged bodily into a dense, wet bush, bent over a large mushroom, entrapped in a slimy pit of moss, drugged into masturbating by needle-like thorns dripping with venom, tall grass that deliberately brushed me intimately as I passed, and ferns that would fixate to the lips of my vagina until I came for them, or some variation of these as I blindly attempted to exit the place until around the time the sun began to set. Then everything stopped. Before my eyes, the shade of green darkened on the plants around me. They stopped moving, became firmer, set in their positions. More notably they stopped grappling me, and I was free to find my way out.
I found the edge of the garden, which took a great deal longer than I imagined it would, and I believe I would never have left if the place had not allowed me. Standing outside of it, I saw that it was now quite vast. Had I done this? A cursory walk--or more accurately, a brief stagger--around it revealed that it had not grown in a circular radius from the tree, which was so large now I could see it from where I stood, but deliberately in one direction. The pond. It wanted water. When it had spread to where its roots could reach, it had released me...
...how long had it waited dormant for a passerby? Is all of the world like this now? Is this the way of everything under the sun?
I desperately need rest. The shade of the now-benign forest is the best I can hope for.
@$#I seEEM to$ h*ve pickeD upp A p4rasIt3//!@
As I was trying to say on Day 6, I contracted a parasite, the nature of which interferes with my memetic diary. But, free of it now I can bring my record up to speed.