Parasite Milk

by Carlton Mellick III

  But I’m not too worried about transportation right now. I’ll figure that out later. Right now, I’m more worried about running into the nymph girl again. Now that I know what she is, the idea of encountering her out in the mushroom forest terrifies me. I’m more than likely going to run into her. I’m sure my clothes are still in the same place where I took them off. They’re going to be on the floor of her mushroom burrow, probably covered in tiny crustaceans and saturated in her musk. But there’s a chance that they won’t be there. There’s a chance that in my drunken stupor I took them with me and lost them somewhere in the woods. If they’re not in her burrow I might never find them.

  While thinking of seeing the woman again, my penis becomes erect. Only it is the most painful erection I’ve ever had in my life. I feel hard crusty nuggets crawling up my urethra. It feels like my urinary tract has become one long scab that breaks apart as my penis hardens. I try ignoring my memory of the woman, try to think of something mundane to cause the swelling to go down. But the deeper the slug-taxi drives into the wilderness, the more I’m reminded of her.

  I swear I can smell her aroma in the forest outside. I’m not sure if it’s hers or other jelly bugs trying to lure in potential mates, but the scent makes it impossible to get rid of the erection. I can’t ease the pain. But I’ve got to push forward. Once I get through this I can go back home and never leave the planet again.

  When the slug-taxi arrives in front of the brothel, I try sending it telepathic messages. I want to tell the slug to wait for me. I want it to know that I’ll be right back. But the taxi is unable to communicate a denial or confirmation. I just have to hope it knows to stay for me. Last night, I went home unconscious. I have no idea how Mick got us back to our hotel room. If he had the bartender call us a slug-taxi then I have no idea how I’ll get home. I don’t have a translation device like Mick so I won’t be able to communicate with him.

  I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. By the looks of the brothel, it appears to be closed. There are no slug-cars in the parking lot. There are no lights through the windows. I am all alone out here.

  Stepping down from the slug-taxi, I look back at it and say, “Stay. I’ll just be ten minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”

  The slug just looks at me with long gooey eyes.

  I step slowly away from the slug, waiting to lunge for it if it tries to leave. I’d rather go back to the city without my passport than get stuck out here overnight. The taxi doesn’t go anywhere. I take a few more steps back. It doesn’t leave. I think it’s going to wait for me.

  As I walk around the side of the building, I look back every twenty feet, just to make sure the slug doesn’t go anywhere. It seems to have understood my request. I just hope it’ll stay long enough for me to find my passport.

  Finding the burrow isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I was drunk last night and wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going. I don’t even remember the area where I first encountered the creature. The mushroom trees all look the same. There aren’t any distinguishing landmarks.

  Stepping into a dark alien forest is a lot more terrifying now than it was last night. Last time, I was with a woman, or something I thought was a woman. I felt safe with her, like she knew what she was doing. Mick said the planet has giant man-eating spiders. Without the girl to guide me, there’s a good chance I might step into a massive web or become some wild creature’s lunch.

  I wander in the dark for several minutes and realize I’d better hurry if I’m going to get back before the slug-taxi leaves me. The only thing I can think to do is try to find the girl again, try to get her to lead me back to her bed.

  “Hello?” I call out. “Are you out there?”

  I know she won’t understand me, but there’s a possibility that she’ll remember my voice and show herself. But I don’t see anything out here. I only hear the wind blowing through the mushroom caps, the fluttering of large bird-sized moths, and hundreds of croaking frog-like creatures somewhere in the distance.

  Then a thought hits me. Bolgot said that you should immediately kill any jelly bug you come across. If this is true, it’s possible that the brothel’s bartender could have exterminated them by now. They were hanging around his establishment. He might have killed them soon after we left last night. His business might even be closed today just to handle the extermination. But, then again, the brothel didn’t seem like the kind of place that was well-kept. The mud was old. The building was filthy. He probably didn’t bother dealing with any of the vermin he had hanging around.

  I wonder if I shouldn’t go back to the brothel and see if the women weren’t hanging out on the back porch, or maybe see if their corpses weren’t somewhere closer to the property. There might even be jelly bug traps laid out nearby. But just before I make up my mind, a wind picks up and blows against my face. And on the wind is the flowery scent of the woman from last night.

  She’s here, somewhere. I don’t see her but she has to be near. I’m not sure if it is her or another jelly bug, but there’s a part of me that is certain that it’s the same woman. The aroma is exactly the same as what I smelled last night. Because the other jelly bug I encountered earlier today had a different smell, I’m sure they each have their own unique scent.

  “Hello?” I call out. “Are you out here?”

  I head into the wind, trying to follow the odor. Her scent becomes stronger.

  “Hello?”

  The sound of twigs breaking causes me to take pause. The leaves of overgrown bushes rustle like something is coming through them toward me.

  “Is that you?” I ask.

  I move closer to the bushes, smelling the air. My erection digs into my pants as I bend down to get a better look. Her scent becomes stronger but I’m not sure it’s her. It could be anything. I don’t want to get too close and have some strange alien beast lunge out at me. The bushes rustle again.

  Upon closer examination, the bush is the same blue-leafed plant that grows from the woman’s head like hair. It’s very possible that she would be hiding here, since it is the perfect camouflage. But I don’t see anything inside. I don’t hear anymore rustling.

  “Hello?” I call out.

  While looking at the blue bushes, I wonder why the nymph has hair that matches its leaves. Her species comes from a different world. She wouldn’t have evolved with these plants. I wonder if it is just a coincidence and maybe there are plants like this on her home world as well. Or perhaps they evolve quickly and have already adapted to the Kynarian environment in just a few short years. If so I wonder how long their lifecycle is. If they breed like rats or cockroaches they might reach maturity within weeks or days. Three years might have been many generations ago for this species. They might have adapted to this environment very quickly.

  “Where are you?” I say to the bushes.

  I give up and stand up straight. Then I nearly shriek as I see movement in the corner of my eye. When I turn, she’s there, staring at me with her red eyes. She was creeping up on me. The second I turn to her she freezes in her tracks.

  It’s just how it was last night. Only now that I know what she is, her movements make more sense. She moves like an animal. She creeps up on me like a raccoon searching for food scraps in a driveway.

  “There you are,” I say.

  She’s not as afraid of me as she was yesterday. She doesn’t run away and hide. But she’s still cautious. She doesn’t approach me too quickly. Her eyes locked on mine, examining my every move.

  “Come on,” I say. “Lead me to your home.”

  But instead of leading me away, she comes toward me. I take a step back. I don’t want to get too close to her.

  “Don’t touch me,” I say. “I’ll follow you.”

  But she doesn’t understand. She slinks closer, taking small quiet steps. When she moves a little nearer, I hear the glands in her armpits spray. Her aroma carries on the wind and hits me with such force it makes my eyes water.

  I draw a deep bre
ath and close my eyes, taking in the intoxicating fumes. Then I shake my head. I snap out of it. I try rubbing the smell from my nose. She steps closer and sprays again. I plug my nose but it doesn’t help. As the scent invades my senses, I no longer feel any pain. I can’t feel the creatures crawling inside of my urethra. I can’t feel the mushrooms growing within my respiratory system. And my sickness has been entirely washed away. My nausea was definitely caused by withdrawal from her aromatic drug. Now that I’ve ingested it again, I feel much, much better. I feel euphoric. The next thing I know, I’m releasing my nose and taking in another deep breath of her perfume.

  She approaches me again. This time I don’t step away. I let her come for me. She rubs my erection through my pants, scratching at it like a cat on a door. When I unzip my pants, she pulls out my dick and strokes it. I look down and see several lumps on my shaft where tiny crustaceans burrow beneath my skin. She weaves her fingers between the lumps, caressing them. It’s almost like she’s trying to soothe the creatures inside.

  “What the hell am I doing…” I say, trying to snap myself out of it.

  I just need her to lead me back to her burrow so I can get my passport. Then I have to leave. I can’t let this creature touch me anymore. She’s diseased. She’s vermin.

  But when I look at her hands rubbing against me, I wonder how she can possibly be vermin. Her fingers are so human, so smooth. She is nothing like a rat or a cockroach. She’s just like me. I wonder if the Kynarians are mistaken. Maybe she really is an intelligent species. Maybe they just don’t understand her kind. Just because they live in the forest and aren’t civilized doesn’t mean they’re animals.

  Then I look up at her face and see tiny crustaceans crawl across her cheek and through her leaf-like hair. She doesn’t even bat an eye when one of them crawls up her nose. It’s like she has an entire colony of them living inside her.

  Now that I’m properly saturated in her drug, she leads me back to her burrow. I follow her like a zombie through the mushrooms, staggering in a drunken haze. I try to focus on my passport. I just need to get the passport. If I linger too long, my ride is going to take off without me.

  “You’re weird…” I say to the girl as I crawl inside of her home. I’m not sure why I say it. I’m feeling really drunk.

  Once inside, the place is larger than I remember. The ground is more solid. But it’s too dark to see. I feel around the floor for my old clothes, but I can’t find them. If I just find my pants I can run away.

  The nymph starts filling in the hole. Like a groundhog, she kicks the dirt with her hind legs, shoving mud and forest debris into the opening to enclose us within. I try to stop her. I push on the wall, trying to break it down. I don’t want to be trapped in here with her. She tries to push me back and prevent me from breaking it down, but I won’t stop. I shove her slender arms out of my way and kick the wall down. I don’t care if I hurt her or scare her. Now that I’m back inside her burrow, I don’t need her anymore. I hope she runs away.

  Then I hear a squirting sound and moisture hits me directly in the face. It’s so dark that I didn’t see it coming. She must have put her stink gland right in my face. My brain rolls and my eyes spin. It’s like somebody hit me in the head with a grenade filled with morphine. While I’m dazed, the jelly bug fills in the hole, closing us tightly inside the room together.

  I can’t see anything. I move my fingers around the floor, fumbling through a fuzzy insect-filled nest, trying to find my passport. But my clothes don’t seem to be here. I need to be able to see.

  “Got a light?” I ask her, slurring my words and giggling to myself.

  But then I remember. She does have a light. Her skin lights up when I touch her.

  I feel my way to her and grab hold of her arm. Then I rub it up the shoulder, but nothing happens. I rub her knee and push on her chest. I shove my palm into her face. But nothing happens. She doesn’t seem to light up at all.

  “Why won’t you turn on?”

  Perhaps it’s the way I touch her. Remembering last night, she didn’t light up from just being touched. She lit up from sexual stimulation. I have to put her in the mood to lighten the room.

  But I don’t want to go down that road. I already have an erection poking into my stomach. I already am drunk on lust. If I get into it any more than this I won’t be able to turn back.

  The woman makes the decision for me. She comes to me, grabbing at my penis. I lick her neck and caress her shoulders. She lights up slightly, but not enough to see anything. I stroke my hand up her breasts and rub oil out of her nipple. It still doesn’t do much.

  Sitting up close to her in the dark, I can feel her warmth radiating against me. I wonder why she’s called a jelly bug. She’s no bug. She’s warm-blooded. She’s beautiful. While in the dark, she might as well be a human woman.

  As I caress her skin, I lean in to her neck and inhale her scent. Her skin glows brighter. Her face lights up. She stares at me with her deep red eyes. I lean in and smell her again, this time slower. I savor every particle of it. Her skin grows even brighter.

  That’s what it is. She’s aroused when I smell her. It’s more sensual to her than being touched, more titillating than when I kiss her neck. Maybe it’s a turn on to watch someone enjoy your scent. Maybe it makes her feel desired and beautiful. Whatever the case, I now know how to brighten the room.

  I keep smelling her as I scan the ground around me. There’s no sign of my clothes. I keep looking. I keep sniffing. But there’s nothing. My clothes aren’t here.

  Then I realize something: I’m not in the right burrow.

  I look around to be sure, but it’s true. This isn’t the same hole I was in last night. It’s completely different. Breaking away from the woman, I feel the floor, digging under the fuzzy bed just to be sure. But there’s no denying it. She took me to a different mushroom.

  But why would she take me to a different burrow? I stare at her, examining her face. I wonder if she’s not even the same woman I was with last night. She might be a completely different girl. But she looks exactly like the other one. They have the same red eyes. They have the same body proportions, the same smell. She also wasn’t as afraid of me tonight, like she was familiar with me. She wouldn’t have been so brave if we were meeting for the first time. But if it is her, then why a different burrow? Do they dig multiple burrows all over the forest? It might make it easier for them to capture mates if they had more than just one to bring them to.

  Either way, I need to get out of here. I need to find the burrow from last night. It might be near this one. I might still be able to find it.

  I push the nymph away as she struggles with my pants. But when I try to get up, she just pulls me back down. I try again with the same result. She’s so much smaller than me. I don’t know how she’s able to throw me to the ground with such ease. I also can’t pry her fingers from my belt. She’s got a grip like a vise.

  I try a third time and realize that it’s not that she’s strong. It’s that I’ve become weak. My legs are wobbly. I can’t even hold up my own weight. I’ve inhaled too much of the drug she emits. It’s like I’m so drunk I can’t get on my feet.

  As I struggle with her fingers on my belt, she sprays me one last time and that’s it. I fall on the floor and just lie there. I’m not getting back up. My mind is dizzy. My eyelids roll shut. She tears my pants off with her teeth, like a mountain lion tearing the hide off a goat. She crawls on top of me, her skin shining so brightly that it fills the room. The wild diseased creature is going to fuck me and there’s not a thing I can do about it.

  Chapter Seven

  I slip in and out of consciousness. The woman holds me inside her, tendrils of moist flesh kneading my penis like dough, her skin glowing against my body. I can feel things being inserted into my urethra, but I’m not sure if they are the tendrils or if they are her shrimp-like parasites crawling inside of me.

  She goes all night. She puts me inside her, pulsing around me until her skin
flashes in orgasm. Then she falls asleep on top of me, curled tightly around me. When she wakes up, she starts the process all over again.

  I’m too weak and drugged to do anything about it. Whenever I’m about to regain my strength, she sprays her aroma at me, forcing me back into the drugged-out state.

  This seems to go on for days. The burrow is sealed so tightly that no light comes inside. I have no idea if anybody will figure out where I am. I have no idea if anybody is looking for me at all. The slug-taxi is surely long gone. I try to direct my thoughts at the slug, try to telepathically ask it for help. I think maybe it can break me out of this place, scare away the jelly bug, maybe bring somebody to help. I also direct these thoughts to the brothel, hoping maybe the sex-slugs there will hear me even if the slug-taxi has left the area. But nothing comes to my rescue. Even if they are telepathic, I don’t think they’re close enough to hear me.

  The jelly bug starts to break up her usual routine. She has sex with me less and less, and has instead begun to lick me. With a short gooey snail tongue, she licks every inch of my body. She does this for hours at a time. She licks my neck and my chest, as well as my toes, my belly button, my eyebrows. I feel like a human lollipop.

  The sensation of being licked is pleasant, but it doesn’t seem like she’s doing it to give me pleasure. I feel like her acidic saliva is melting my skin, like she is dissolving it and lapping it up for nutrients. She hasn’t left the burrow in days, so she hasn’t been eating anything. Perhaps that was the whole point of luring me in here. Perhaps this is how they hunt.