Chapter Eighty-Three: On the Nature of Poison, Worm-Love, and the Sovereign Weight of a Chonk
There was no warning—no psychic tremor, no instinctual ping of dread. One mont Kimchi was face-down on the floor like a poisoned houseplant, the next she rocketed upright like a possessed marionette mid-exorcism.
Her posture was stiff. Her gaze? Not focused on anything in the mortal realm.
"Kimchi?" I asked carefully, voice laced with concern as I rose slightly. "My dear. Are you alright?"
I wasn’t used to seeing her floored like that. Unresponsive, yes. Covered in blood, often. But not... dazed. Sophia, seated nearby and idly swirling a glass of sothing unethically iridescent, glanced over and murmured with scientific detachnt, "She drank enough neurotoxic honey to exterminate five hundred baseline humans. Technically she should be very, very dead."
"Comforting," I deadpanned.
At the sound of my voice, Kimchi’s head whipped toward with raptor-like precision. Her expression brightened like I’d just offered her a litter of puppies and a flathrower.
And then she charged.
"Oh fuck—!"
Too late.
She tackled with such force that the couch and I were both launched backwards like a rejected sofa on a ga show. We landed with a plush thump, cushions wheezing under the sudden load of mutant affection.
"My Irvine! My radiant, precious Irvine!" she slurred, straddling my chest like I was a prized ceremonial altar. "Orchid loooooves you so, sooooo much!"
What followed could only be described as a slobberstorm. Kisses rained down on my face like the saliva-slick vengeance of a drunk affection elental. I erged from the onslaught damp, stunned, and partially deaf in one ear from how close she leaned in.
Then she whispered, conspiratorially, with all the sobriety of a conspiracy podcast host: "Did you know? Did you know that Orchid loves you more than any other bioform in the entire hive? Huh? Did you??"
"Is that so, sweetheart?" I asked gently, peeling her off my neck. "Even more than Crystal?"
Kimchi nodded rapidly, like a bobblehead installed in a malfunctioning centrifuge.
"Really?" I drawled, arching an eyebrow. "More than Onyx?"
The shift was instantaneous. Her eyes went from moons to razors. Her whole aura flipped like a trapdoor to murdertown.
"That bitch," she growled, and punched a hole through the floor next to my skull. Elbow-deep. The stone groaned. I held still.
"She stole my place inside your Mindspace!" Kimchi wailed with drunken fury. "And now she says I can’t mate with you?! She’s dictating mating rights like so cunt-throned tyrant! I should rip her in half and sauté her biomass!!"
Sophia, who had been observing from the corner like a biologist at a zoo exhibit, blinked slowly. She muttered sothing about needing to docunt the neurological volatility of high-tier poisons and scuttled off to grab a datapad.
"Hey," I barked, my voice slicing through Kimchi’s rage like a scalpel. "Don’t talk about any other mber of the hive like that. I love you all. Equally. Saying you want to murder one of your sisters?" I glared. "That doesn’t fucking fly."
Her eyes widened like I’d slapped her.
Then the lip-quiver began. And with it, the deluge.
She collapsed into my chest and began sobbing so hard I felt her psionic field stutter and pulse like a distressed animal’s heartbeat.
Sigh. Yeah, that one was on . I shouldn’t have let her drink half the contents of Sophia’s Warcri Winery, even if it was funny at the ti.
So I did what any responsible Father of the Hive would do: I let her cling to like an emotional boa constrictor for the next thirty minutes. She wailed. I endured. Her tears soaked my shirt, her horns gouged the cushion behind , and I stared at the ceiling while weighing my life choices.
And then, with zero transition:
"Irvine... sniff... would you still love if I was a legless invertebrate?"
I blinked.
I blinked again.
I may have suffered a temporary stroke.
’Did she just ask if I’d still love her if she was a worm?’
Oh no. No, no, no. We were here. We had reached the worm test portion of the relationship.
ntally, I assessed my options:
Option one — brutal honesty: "No, because if you were a worm you’d have no nervous system capable of higher cognition, and I’m not emotionally fulfilled by hugging vermin."
Option two — brutal dominance: "Yes, you sad squirming fuckstick. Crawl back to your corner and prepare the worm-scepter." (Which, knowing Kimchi, would absolutely get her aroused and make the night even more dangerous.)
Neither was ideal.
And I didn’t have my anti-psionic baton on . Not that it would’ve worked. Kimchi had eaten the last one and giggled as it disintegrated in her gullet.
So I went safe.
"I would still love you," I said with maximum sincerity, "even if you were a spineless, slimy, sentient invertebrate. Because I love you. Not your...flesh suit."
She stared at . Unblinking. asuring my soul like a tax auditor possessed by Aphrodite.
Then her mouth stretched into a toothy, delighted grin.
"Hehehe~ you’re sooo stupid, that’s why I loooooove you!" she declared, springing upright like the world’s deadliest pop star. "Irvine-mate! Let’s go hunt prey!!"
And she made a beeline for the elevator.
Oh no you don’t.
I pulled the nuclear option.
"Sapphire!"
Before Kimchi could reach the lift, there was a thud like divine punishnt had been delivered. A massive shadow dropped from above and flattened her.
There she was: Sapphire the chonk. The living boulder. The serotonin tsunami. And currently—Kimchi’s living prison.
Sophia, now returning with her datapad, stopped dead. Her eyebrows climbed into orbit. "What in the...?"
Despite her shock, she blinked at Sapphire with dawning familiarity. Clearly, Crystal hadn’t just adopted that particular creature from the void—there was backstory there.
Walking over, I scratched Sapphire’s nose affectionately as she lifted one side of her colossal belly to reveal a now-slumbering Kimchi. Her horns twitched with unconscious rage, but her expression was peaceful.
"Good girl," I murmured. "I need you to lie on her for the night. Don’t let her escape. For the love of all that is psionic, don’t let her get up and decide to ’hunt.’"
Sapphire snorted and sent a warm, comforting wave of confirmation through the hive-link.
I turned and hauled the couch upright again, collapsing into it with a sigh worthy of a man who’d just survived both a storm and a wedding.
"Thank all that is unholy I was drunk on your neurotoxin this whole ti," I muttered to Sophia. "If I’d been sober, I’d have lted into paste after fifteen minutes with Kimchi like that."
She slid down beside , resting her head on the one side not dripping in sob-lubricant.
"Mmh. Likewise," she mumbled, enjoying the buzz. "I’m coherent, but barely. It’s like my blood is trying to hug my brain."
We sat in pleasant silence for a while—soft, warm, psionically tangled.
Then I groaned. "Alright, I’m spent. Where am I sleeping?"
Sophia straightened slightly, face going suspiciously pink. "Wha—? Oh, yes! Follow , my sweet."
She guided up a flight of stairs and into a dim, plush room where—
"Ah, my little cosmos. Looks like you had quite the night."
Onyx. Curled around my bed like a predatory feline made of psionic mist and casual nace.
Nude? Technically no. Seductive? Obscenely so.
I didn’t flinch. "Not surprised to see you here. Honestly, expected it. For the record, it was my fault. I made Kimchi drink the poison. When she’s lucid, I’ll make it up to her."
"You don’t need to explain," Onyx purred. "But I’ll still be sleeping beside you."
As I began undressing, I noticed Sophia at the door, her gaze clinging to like a heat-seeking missile.
I sighed. "You want to join us tonight, Sophia? Onyx doesn’t mind, and I’ve had enough drama for one apocalypse."
Sophia looked to Onyx, seeking permission.
Onyx didn’t even blink. "Get that ss of insecure thoughts out of your head, infiltrator. He already told you: appearance is irrelevant. Go freshen up, drop the illusion, and join us."
Sophia practically sprinted to the shower. The sound of running water and the unmistakable hiss of mutation retraction echoed faintly.
She returned minutes later in sothing dangerously sheer.
"No," I said instantly.
Sophia blinked, confused. "Wh—?"
"That nightwear is cheating. Automatic sex appeal. Take it off. You’re trying to win a ga no one’s playing."
Her nails caught one of the straps and sliced it clean off. The entire thing hit the floor like it had been assassinated by fashion police.
Cups: confird. Expression: gleefully suppressed.
"Good," I said, already halfway into the bed. "Now hurry. I want to pass out before another romantic crisis manifests."
She climbed in, wings folding beneath her with unnatural flexibility. She nestled against my chest.
"One rule," I muttered. "No funny business while I’m asleep. I like my sleep. Don’t ruin it."
And then—I was gone.
Onyx, denied her mating chance but not her intimacy, coiled her enormous form around protectively, leaving just enough space for Sophia to fit.
Sophia didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.
She knew—knew deep in her cerebrum, in every molecule still attuned to the hive—that this was bliss. That no drug, no infiltration victory, no orgasmic neural feedback compared to this.
Her mind whispered it softly: Best. Night. Ever.
And she slept.
Reviews
All reviews (0)