Prompt Day #58: Bees typically sting in defense. They also die when they pull their stingers—and the rest of their own guts—out as they flee. Invent a strange creature whose “sting” (or other method of attack) is similarly suicidal.
The girl at the bar was completely out of his league and yet, she had made eye contact with him several times. The last time she’d even smiled. Three beers and a shot of whiskey later, he’d worked up the courage to approach her.
“Hi there, my name’s Mike. I can’t help but notice you seem to be here alone, and yet, that makes no sense to me because you are absolutely stunning.” He’d said too much. He almost turned around and walked away but she touched his arm.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” She said softly. He grinned and nonchalantly adjusted the new situation in his crotch.
“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked.
“You can take me back to your place and make me one there.” She said; her hand now stroking his bicep. He settled both of their tabs and walked her to his beat up pick up, apologizing for the mess inside. He shoved his mining hat and gloves in the center console to make room for her in the passenger seat. Driving back to his place, she was completely silent, staring out the window. He mentally reviewed the state of his small bachelor pad when he’d last seen it this morning before work. It was messy but not dirty. She’d put up with his truck which was way worse than his place. He made a quick pit stop at the convenience store and told her he was picking up something to make her a drink with but what he was really doing was picking up some prophylactics, the box he had at home was surely dry-rotted with age.
She said nothing, only shook her head when he asked her if there was anything special she liked to drink. She said nothing when they arrived at his house and he opened the truck door for her. She said nothing when he let her in and turned the lights on. She looked around as if burning a picture in her memory.
“I’m really glad you agreed to come back to my place, uh…I’m embarrassed to say this but I don’t think I ever got your name.” God what an idiot! No wonder she’d been so quiet. She was probably trying to think of a way out of this stupid situation.
‘It doesn’t matter.” She said and pulled him to her. She kissed him ferociously. She did not wait for him to open his mouth to her but rather pushed her tongue into his mouth. He was so hard already he worried he might climax right then and there and spoil this Penthouse Forum moment. Her hand grasped the back of his head and pulled on his hair. Her tongue filled his mouth. It seemed to be unnaturally large and the way it probed around his cheeks and teeth, it almost felt alive, like it had a separate intelligence and motive for being there. She was pulling so hard on his hair, he hand to bend his knees slightly to keep his mouth on the level with hers. His neck was fully extended and still her tongue swelled and elongated in his mouth. He could no longer move his own to match hers, in fact, he could barely breath. He tried to push her back, to break the kiss when all of a sudden; she rammed her tongue down his throat and into his windpipe. Now he could not breathe at all. He was choking. He used all his strength the shove her backwards. She went and he watched with bulging eyes as her tongue stretched far out of her mouth and then out came a large grub like body attached to the tongue. Mike could see pulsations in it as it seemed to be pumping body fluid into the tongue which continued to choke him. The girl, whose name wasn’t important, fell to the floor in a heap as if she contained no bones at all and her skin was just some latex Halloween costume. Mike made one last feeble attempt to pull the wriggling thing out of his own body before darkness set in. Just before he lost consciousness, the entire watermelon-sized organism snaked itself into his respiratory tract where it died. Mike followed soon after.
“Jesus, Serge, this is the fifth skin suit we’ve found this week. What’dya make of it?” Officer Ruskey asked staring down at the remains of the girl with no name and the man they’d identified as Michael Kaster.
“I don’t know, Rusk, but this sure as hell ain’t the work of something human. Hell, I don’t even know if this “skin suit” was once human. Did you have a look down the vic’s throat?” He asked. He knew he couldn’t do it. Not again, never again. He never wanted to see what Doc Winters had shown him during the first vic’s autopsy. Some white, sac-like thing with this long pink snout, curled up dead inside the vic’s (that time it was a young girl—Susan Gentry) where the lungs should be. The lungs were collapsed and pressed flat against the side of the ribs and the trachea and bronchal something or other had been blown out, the doc said.) The best guess at this point, after five very similar scenes, was that this thing was some sort of parasite that disguised itself as a human and preyed on real humans. Serge and the doc hadn’t exactly worked it all out though. ‘Cause why did this parasite keep attacking humans if it couldn’t survive inside them? It was like the things were some kind of crazy kamikaze bug with only one goal; to kill.
“Yeah, I looked alright; it’s the same as the others. Serge, you say other precincts around the state been finding the same uh, situations as us?” Rusk asked. He was a good boy, worked hard, reliable and maybe not the brightest bulb in the bunch but Serge had a feeling he was working with his eventual replacement. This kid wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty and that was what made a great cop.
“Yep. Faxes coming in daily. Least fifty or more in this state, but I seen a few come through from South Carolina and Maryland too. Seems this thing’s working its way up and down the coast.” Serge said, pulling out his electric cigarette. His wife had bought them for him one day saying they were better than those poison stick’s he’d been smoking. But he found now that she let him smoke inside; he had that thing in his mouth eighteen hours a day. He was smoking more now than he ever had. Funny how you end up doing things you knew damn well was gonna kill you, yet you could just ignore that survival instinct in your head to feed your need. Worked like that for all addicts, didn’t it?
The Colony as it knew itself to be, was much like a coral—one large organism made up of many smaller organisms functioning as one. Each individual was connected to the others. Their thoughts were one, their goals and desires as well. The Colony was an ancient being, having come into existence when the universe was brand new; an astronomical fraternal twin. It spent eons exploring its cosmic sibling, experiencing life in the skin of a multitude of living beings. It felt good to give up its sentience for a time and walk in the husk and on the land of entities unlike itself. This new found euphoria came at a price of course; each expedition cost some of its lives. The Colony found this to be a reasonable toll for the high that comes with wearing masks, becoming something else entirely. Like any spoiled child who is never told no, The Colony would soon tire of the life forms it was playing with and would move on. But this new place, Earth as its inhabitants called it, contained so many sensations, pleasure and pain, perversions like it had never before experienced. The Colony found itself addicted to this planet in a way it had never been before, sacrificing more and more of itself for its Earth high. The Colony knew if it stayed it would eventually die off as well but it was too late, here on this planet, it would spend its final days. When it was gone, there would be nothing left for anyone else. The Colony planned to take in every bit this planet had to offer and as it was escorted into life, it would escort Earth into death.