Black Melt

by Indy McDaniel

  After the blowjob, it didn’t take Stark long to reach the cusp of orgasm again. He resisted the urge to cum as he stroked Zoey off faster, wanting to get her off first. He nibbled at the sweaty skin of her neck as drove into her, listening to the whimpers of pleasure rising up her throat and past her lips. She sucked in a sudden gasp of air and let it out in a long cry of release as her cock jerked in Stark’s hand and fired off her warm spunk onto the cushions of the couch. His hand’s movements slowed as the flesh in his grip softened. He pounded his way up Zoey’s ass, no longer holding back, and reached his own climax shortly after hers. He groaned as he filled the condom with his seed. Gasping for air, he pushed himself back from Zoey, pulling free of her stretched anus and dropping back onto the couch, limp member dangling between his thighs.

  Zoey slid off the arm of the couch and turned around to rest her back against it. She was just as out of breath and as sweaty as Stark. “Thank you,” she panted out. “Despite inexperience, did an excellent job bringing me to climax.”

  Stark chuckled. “I’m hardly inexperienced,” he shot back. “I mean, it’s not as if I’ve never handled a dick before. I’m just used to it being attached to my body.”

  Zoey nodded. “Fair point. Still, did not expect you to go that far. Thought it might have been outside your comfort zone.” She smiled. “Pleasant surprise.”

  “I figured it was the least I could do for you opening the back door for me.” He went silent for a few moments as the soberness of his post-orgasmic state settled over him. “We probably shouldn’t do this again. Not while we’re still working together, anyway. Could make things complicated.”

  “Agreed,” Zoey said. “A one-time occurrence. At least, until the job is finished. That is, of course, if I managed to please you enough to warrant a second encounter in the future.”

  Stark laughed. “Let’s just say you weren’t joking when you were talking about the high value of your sexual abilities earlier.”

  “Factual,” Zoey said before a happy smile crept onto her face. “Still nice to have third-party corroboration.”

  “Well, you’ve got it,” Stark said. “If you want to clean up, the bathroom’s right down the hall. There should be clean towels and whatever you might need in there.”

  Zoey thanked Stark and slowly slid herself up from the couch. She knelt down to collect her clothes before rising back to her feet. Seemingly on a whim, she whipped around and leaned forward to give Stark a quick peck on the cheek before hurrying towards the bathroom. Stark watched her go, eyes wandering down to her bare ass as he wondered exactly what the hell he’d gotten himself into. He was still trying to sort out his thoughts well after the bathroom door clicked shut and he heard the shower come on. Peeling the used condom off his limp dick, he got up from the couch and headed for the kitchen, intent on getting a drink that was a good deal stronger than wine.

  * * *

  Stark awoke the next morning alone in his bed. Zoey was out on the couch, he knew. He got up and got dressed, worried that things would be awkward after the previous night’s unexpected activities. What the hell was I thinking? He would have liked to have passed off the whole thing as being buzzed off the wine and horny, but he hadn’t been that buzzed. And until he’d started making out with Zoey, he hadn’t been that horny. Zoey had expressed a passing interest at the restaurant but that was as far as any kind of flirtatious exchange had gone. He’d only known her for a day. He liked her quirky attitude and she was attractive, but the passionate encounter was just as much a surprise to him now as it had been when it had started the previous night. He pushed the confusing situation aside and hoped Zoey could do the same, at least long enough for them to complete their investigation. Somehow, he didn’t think she’d have a problem with that. He wasn’t so sure about himself.

  Heading out into the living room, he found Zoey was already awake. She’d made up the fold out bed in the couch and folded it back away and was sitting against one end, legs pulled underneath her as she scanned her tablet intently. She was barely dressed, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts and a white tank top. Zoey chewed at her bottom lip as her fingers dragged across the tablet, scanning through the information on it. He didn’t mean to notice and he definitely didn’t mean to stare, but once his eyes ran across the stiff nubs pressing out against the front of the tank top, he found it hard to look away. The fabric was thin, thin enough that he could catch a brief hint of pink underneath the white. Stark didn’t think she knew he was there until she spoke. “Made coffee,” she said, not looking up from the tablet but pointing to the coffee table where her cup sat. “More for you in kitchen.”

  “Thanks,” Stark said, jerking his eyes away and fighting back a blush of embarrassment. He moved past the couch on the way to the kitchen. “I’ll get some breakfast made, too. How do you like your eggs?”

  “Scrambled. Pinch of salt. Ketchup. Two pieces of toast, bordering on burnt to a crisp.” Zoey finally looked up from the tablet to Stark and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “No problem,” Stark replied as he made his way into the kitchen. “I did offer you the continental breakfast. Of course, I’m not exactly sure what a continental breakfast technically is, so I might screw it up.”

  “Continental breakfast usually minimal,” Zoey called from the couch. “Pastries, cheese, fruit, cereal, coffee. Coffee already handled. Eggs and toast preferred to the others.”

  “Well, good, cuz I’m short on pastries.”

  * * *

  Zoey kept her nose buried in her tablet through breakfast.

  “What’s so damned interesting on that thing?” Stark asked before taking a sip of coffee.

  “Autopsy reports, blood work, preliminary analysis of the fungal material collected yesterday,” Zoey replied. “Also email.”

  “Anything I should know about?” Stark asked.

  “Fungi appears predacious. Obviously, based on observation yesterday with Moone. However, predacious fungi typically only feed on microscopic organisms. Nematodes, amoebas, collembolas. Never anything as large as a mammal. Also, skin growths on O’Malley indicate fungi is a dermatophyte, but that doesn’t work, either. Dermatophytes only affect nails, hair, skin. This fungus affected his internal structure as well.”

  “Yea, it was pouring out of him like he was filled with the stuff,” Stark nodded as he spread some jam on his own toast, which was significantly less burnt than Zoey’s.

  Zoey nodded. “Exactly. Autopsy confirmed fungus had infected majority of his internal organs, including brain. Could be cause of his erratic behavior. Stomach contents of particular interest. Filled with an extremely caustic substance. Blend of fungal material and augmented stomach acids.” She paused for a moment before adding. “Oh, and bits of Moone, of course.”

  “I’m starting to regret asking you this question while we’re eating breakfast,” Stark muttered before scooping up another forkful of eggs and sliding them into his mouth.

  Zoey glanced up from the tablet to Stark. “Your appetite seems unaffected,” she commented with a smirk before going back to her screen. “Can stop, if you’d prefer.”

  “Nah, this saves time and gets us both up to speed,” he said. “My stomach can handle it.”

  Zoey nodded and kept going through the information. “Remains of Moone’s body also contained the blend of fungal material and stomach juices. Also found traces of an unidentified but active element in both O’Malley and Moone’s remains. Element is fungal in nature. Seems to hold a low level electrical charge which binds the molecules even when separated.”

  Stark’s brow rose with confusion. “What does that mean?”

  “Unsure,” Zoey said. “Requires further examination. Preliminary analysis reveals that fungal cells are extremely active. Full of energy. Could explain rapid progression of symptoms upon initial point of infection. Could also imply a form of linked intelligence.”

  “Smart fungus?”

  “Only a theory,” Zoey said. “If so, each fungal cel
l would be capable of linking with the others. Hive mind, only with a single mind spread across many parts. If that’s the case, O’Malley would have been able to experience the feeling of Moone’s digestion process on a cellular level. Imagine the taste buds of your tongue, multiplied a thousand fold and with preternatural sensitivity. Each bite you took of that toast would be an avalanche of flavor. Rapturous. Orgasmic, even.”

  Stark lifted an eyebrow at Zoey. “You get off on eating toast?”

  Zoey shook her head. “No, but O’Malley – in his infected state – may have. His genitals – also flooded with infection – were in a fully aroused state when body was collected. Remained erect throughout autopsy. Not rigor mortis. Too early for that to set in. Essentially, he was hard when he died. Presumably a side effect of the feeding process we interrupted.”

  “Well, that sounds generally awful.”

  “Aside from presence of fungal material, Moone’s autopsy not otherwise noteworthy,” Zoey continued. “Except the startling level of deterioration caused by the digestive enzymes. Of the parts of her left dissolved but unconsumed, almost one-hundred percent of her biological material broken down to semi-liquid state. Digestive process continued on remainder of her body after collection. Autopsy technician noted significant cellular decay and skin abrasions due to fungal enzymes.” She scanned her way to the next report. “Kurylenko’s autopsy and lab work, much more interesting.”

  “And sickening, I assume,” Stark added.

  “Like O’Malley, internal organs showed dramatic signs of fungal infection. Unlike O’Malley, fungal material mostly dormant. Lower level energy field connecting the cells. Still, Kurlyenko different than Moone. Not used as source of nutrients. Exact cause of her explosive demise uncertain, but possibly related to on call doctor’s use of anti-fungal medication. Reports indicate her death resulted moments after injection of anti-fungal treatment. Following theory of intelligent fungus, possible it detected threat and attempted to escape in as quick a fashion as possible.”

  “Like flinching away from a hot needle.”

  “Precisely,” Zoey nodded. “Still, given apparent preference of fungus using females as source of food, curious that Kurylenko wasn’t simply digested by O’Malley.”

  “Simple,” Stark said. “He wasn’t showing signs of infection yet. ER admissions didn’t mention him being covered in any black mold. It must have hit him afterwards.”

  “Sound reasoning,” Zoey said. “Still, doesn’t explain uniqueness of Kurylenko’s infection pattern. If, following the presented pattern, infected males are used as carriers and females used as sustenance, what made her different?”

  Stark shrugged. “Maybe both men and women can get infected. Just cuz O’Malley was the only one to go completely bat shit crazy with it doesn’t mean Kurylenko wouldn’t have gone the same way. She just died before it got that far along. Moone didn’t get infected for the same reason. Even if this stuff has a preference for gobbling up the fairer sex, doesn’t necessarily mean it can’t also cause the same kind of infection madness in them.”

  Zoey sat silently while considering Stark’s reasoning. “Makes sense. I apologize. Was going off on a bit of a tangent. Head full of misogynistic space fungus. Not pretty. Not scientific.”

  “Well, nobody’s perfect,” Stark said with a smirk. “Want more coffee?”

  “Yes, please,” Zoey said, continuing to scan through her notes. “Huh,” she said as she came to another point of interest. “Kurylenko’s blood results. She was pregnant.”

  Stark brought the pot of coffee back to the table, filling up both their mugs. “Okay, beyond being somewhat depressing, does that hold any value?”

  “Possibly,” Zoey said. “Possibly not. Mostly personal. Probably shouldn’t say anything. Unprofessional.”

  Stark sat back down at the table and took a sip of coffee. “I’ve been inside you. I think we’re far beyond maintaining a strictly professional relationship.”

  “Fair point,” Zoey said, although it took her a few moments before continuing. “Just, not something I’ll ever be able to experience. Even after full transition. Medical science progressing rapidly, but even so, not a possibility in my lifetime. I’ve imagined it. More than once. Think it would be nice, if possible.” She took in a breath and held it for a moment before letting it out slowly. “Best not to dwell.”

  Stark didn’t know how to respond. Just looking at her and talking to her, it was easy to forget that she wasn’t a normal woman. Not that normal was necessarily better. Stark had been with plenty of normal women and had gotten mixed results. The fact that Zoey hadn’t been born a woman but so clearly wanted to be one was a bit baffling and a bit amazing. And now, despite her casual confession about her desire to carry a child, he could see that it bothered her in a big way that she couldn’t. It made him want to give her a tight hug and whisper something soothing to her, but he didn’t. Jesus, Stark, he thought. Are you falling for her?

  * * *

  As the plane leveled off, the fasten seatbelt light clicked off. Andrea Carmichael unhooked the belt from around her stomach, letting out a sigh of relief as the pressure of it left her. She needed a bathroom. She pushed herself up from the seat and squeezed her way past the passenger sitting beside her on the way to the aisle. She made her way towards the back of the plane, passing a flight attendant along the way.

  “How far along are you?” the flight attendant asked, smiling.

  “Oh,” Andrea said. “Just hit seven months.”

  “Boy or a girl? Do you know yet?”

  Andrea winced as her gestating child decided to throw a foot into her already aching bladder. “Girl,” she hissed out. “Bouncing baby girl. Sorry, I’ve really got to use the bathroom.”

  “Of course,” the flight attendant said, moving out of Andrea’s way. “I’m sorry. Let me know if you need anything.”

  Andrea nodded and hurried the rest of the way to the bathroom. She pushed the door shut behind her and flipped the lock then went about the tricky process of getting her pants down in such cramped quarters. With that task accomplished, she sat down on the chilly steel toilet and relieved herself. When she finished, she wiped and flushed the toilet but remained seated on it. The bathroom was cramped, but so was her seat. At least in the bathroom, she didn’t have to deal with being packed up tight between two other people.

  Andrea checked her watch and wondered how long she could stay in the bathroom before being asked to return to her seat. The flight from Philadelphia to Baltimore was only scheduled to take just under an hour. That and she suspected the friendly flight attendant would come knocking soon enough to make sure she was alright. So she decided to take as much time as she could to get her social anxiety under control and then suck it up for the rest of the ride.

  All too soon, the knock came. Whether it was the flight attendant or another passenger in need of the bathroom, Andrea didn’t know and it ultimately didn’t matter. Her short time spent in the sanctuary of the airplane lavatory had come to an end. “Just a minute,” she called before standing up from the toilet and shimmying her pants back up her legs and into place. She flipped the faucet on and splashed some water on her face, trying her best to prepare herself for the rest of the flight. She flipped the lock on the bathroom door but before she could slide the door open, the person on the other side yanked it aside. “Jesus, what’s the rush? Bad peanuts?”

  As she tried to slide past the impatient man, he pressed a hand against her mouth and shoved her back into the bathroom. Realizing that he wanted something more than to use the little boy’s room, Andrea tried to shove him away but he pulled the door shut behind him too quickly to gain much leverage. She heard the door’s lock click back into place and felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She tried to scream, but the man’s other hand came up and clenched around her throat tight enough to choke it off. The man looked strung out. Sweat beaded his forehead and thick black snot was running from his nostrils. Andrea continued to struggle a
gainst him, trying to break away from his firm grip.

  “Hungry,” the man growled. “So hungry.”

  The man took his hand away from Andrea’s mouth and pulled her closer, planting his lips against hers. She let out a half-strangled scream that wasn’t loud enough to make it through the thin walls of the bathroom. She heard a retching deep in the man’s throat a moment before a flood of warm, chunky fluid spewed into her mouth. Her attempts at screaming were literally drowned away as she was forced to swallow the man’s dark vomit. Tears poured from her wide eyes as she felt an intense burning. It filled her mouth and trickled down the back of her throat. Whatever the man was puking into her, it was scorching through her in the worst possible way.

  As the mold ate through Andrea’s esophagus, it poured into her chest and drenched her heart and lungs. The pregnant woman jerked in the man’s grip as she suffered through organ failure. He opened his mouth wider and sucked Andrea’s partially dissolved lips right off her face, exposing the glistening white of her teeth. Andrea’s struggles faltered, her hands clinging to the man’s shirt. She stared at the man with wide eyes filled with terror and confusion. He released his hold on her throat and pushed her back. Andrea found she didn’t have the strength to keep standing and dropped down onto the toilet, letting out forced, sputtering breaths due to her crippled lungs.

  Andrea could feel her unborn child going wild within her as the digestive enzymes ate their way through her stomach and sizzled towards her womb. The infected man’s eyes lit up as he seemed to sense the life growing within her. Andrea gurgled out an unintelligible plea for mercy as the man gurgled out his own groan of hunger before vomiting up a fresh spray of digestive juices onto the pregnant woman’s swollen belly. Her maternity shirt offered little protection against the caustic slop. It burned through the fabric and ate into her belly, softening the skin and muscle enough that when the man pressed his fingers into her, it didn’t take much pressure for him to push right into her.