Little tales involving the reader (a human called Phaeton, of no specific gender); Cygnus the TV-unit; and Daisy, an eccentric eldritch entity who mimics a TV-unit.
The mimic AU/species concept belongs to Haxorus. Be sure to check out Haxorus's Tumblr cosmica-galaxy for lots of mimic lore and art!
This is a direct sequel to Daisy, give me your answer, do.
~7.1k+ words
Cygnus did indeed stink of sex after their encounter.
"Phaeton, I need your help," Cygnus says as they spawn unexpectedly in your quarters. "My charging port got wet. Have you got desiccant?"
"Yep," you say, putting aside your bowl of noodles for now, before getting up and opening the door to your personal workshop. "Get on my workbench and I'll get you done." Any repair bay would be able to help your friend with such a minor ailment, but Cygnus clearly prefers your gentle touch.
Cygnus lies on their side on your workbench, to prevent moisture from flowing much further in, and undoes their top garments to give you access. Meanwhile, you grab a bucket and pick things from your workshop shelves that you'll need.
"I do like a good bucket," you say as you put items from your shelves into your bucket. "I'm inclined to agree with Ursula Le Guin; I reckon a bucket was probably the first human invention. Can't gather food if you have nothing to put it in." You gather a box of desiccant pellets and powder, a funnel, a hot probe, a little tool a bit like a crochet hook, and a tool for unlocking Cygnus's plating if you need to.
"Right, lie on your back so I can pour the dust in," you say. "Don't worry about the moisture dripping further in - if it does, I'll open you up and deal with it. I'll get you sorted out, don't you worry. Wow."
"What is it?" asks Cygnus.
"You stink of sex!" you say. "You fucked a human, didn't you? Tell me the juicy details!" You lean forward and sniff Cygnus's slimy charging port. "Oh, that smells of a good time," you say. "Oh, and your biofuel burner too. …Gordon Bennett, that smells cummy."
"I did fuck an organic, yes," says Cygnus, "But not a human. …They're a mimic."
What?
"Cygnus, mimics are something human parents made up to frighten disobedient children," you say. "Wait… was this… Did a bodysnatcher skibidi… hurt you? And threatened you into silence? Who did this to you?"
"No!" says Cygnus, "I promise you, it was consensual."
"Oh, which one was it?" you ask. "Was it that one with the buzzsaw hand? He does have a handsome face, I'll grant you… I know you like your partners bigger than you, but I didn't think you'd actually fuck a skib."
"I did not fuck a skib," insists Cygnus. "I encountered a mimic - until then, I didn't think they were real either."
"There's something you're not telling me and I don't like it," you say. "But either way, you need de-slimed so you can charge properly. Now hold still so I can dust you."
Cygnus obediently keeps still while you poke the slim funnel into their charging port and pour desiccant pellets down it. You can both hear a soft creeping fizz, as the pellets begins absorbing moisture, expanding gently as they do so, and clumping together. You open the other side of the desiccant box and begin pouring in the fine powder too, filling in the gaps missed by the pellets.
You poke the hot probe into Cygnus's port and turn it on, its prongs heating up and reacting with the desiccant mush to turn it into a solid mass, trapping all the moisture that was in the charging port. "Let's leave that to work," you say, gently moving the probe around to ensure maximum contact. "Tell me about this alleged mimic," you say. "You met a human who claimed to be a mimic, didn't you?"
"Their name's Daisy," says Cygnus. "And no, they're definitely not a human. They take the form of a TV-unit. I thought they were a TV-unit for a moment, until they opened their mouth and showed teeth. And, when we fucked, Daisy… was able to shapeshift their genital. That's how they fitted it in my charging port."
"You're having a crap of me." You hold the probe steady to help it work. "You can just say 'I don't want to tell what happened.' You don't have to make up a dumbass lie."
"…Whomever I encountered, they were an organic who resembled a TV-unit, and they could retract and re-form their genital at will. If that's not a mimic, I don't know what else they could be."
"…I don't want to believe you'd lie to me on purpose," you say, "But you must admit this is very hard to believe."
"…I expect it is," concedes Cygnus.
"In fact, I don't think I can believe you." you say. "You're hiding something and being very inelegant about it for a professional diplomat. …I'm not angry with you - I trust that you have a good reason for not telling me the truth. I'm just worried about you. Either you're going loopy, or someone's pressuring you to keep secrets." This really is bizarre behaviour from Cygnus. You really hope you don't have to take them to the med wing and have their recent memories purged to return them to a normal state.
Cygnus pats your hand that's on the probe in their charging port. You use your free hand to return the gesture.
"Well… whatever's going on. We'll get through it together," you say. "We always do." (Cygnus purrs their speakers and displays a smiling emoticon.) "Right, hot stuff's probably about done."
You turn off the probe and pull it out before it can congeal in place. You pop it in a vice for now, held loosely. "Mind you don't touch the tip, it'll be hot," you say. You get your little hook tool and poke it into the solid mass that's now filling Cygnus's charging port. It goes in like a knife through a meringue or florist's foam. You pull it back out, the hook pulling out the morass of solidified desiccant. It slides out in one block - you were expecting it to crumble and you'd have to clear it out with tweezers and tinned air. "Oo, beautiful," you say at the thing sliding out in one go. "How's that?" you ask. "Do you need me to open you up and check you for drips?"
"No, I'm good," says Cygnus with a smiling emoticon. "My internal diagnostics are fine. Thank you, Phaeton - that was so much easier than doing it myself."
"Any time, dear one," you say. "Let me give your biofuel intake a little clean so you don't stink of jizz. I know techfolk can't smell, but I fucking can." You give Cygnus's intake a clean with liquid soap. The soap won't give Cygnus any energy but it won't hurt them to have a bit of soap going through their pipes. "How's your outflow?" you ask. "Want me to flush you out while I've got you benched?"
"Oh, would you?" asks Cygnus gratefully.
You find the zip at the base of Cygnus's trouser legs, hidden by a placket. (Fornax and their team do such good work, you think.) You undo each one and find the exhaust ports near Cygnus's ankles. You suppose it makes sense in itself to have them there so they can be easily vented out of the trouser legs - but as always, you can't help thinking it would be much funnier if techfolk had bumhole vents. Maybe the original designers of techfolk thought that a farting robot would be too much of a hard sell.
You click the air-intake valves by the exhaust ports, and they draw in air to aid the expulsion of their contents. You place an empty bucket to catch the expected payload of ash - instead, a load of mostly-unchanged jizz squirts out. The biofuel burner doesn't do so well with liquid contents, after all.
"Oh, that bloody well stinks!" you exclaim. "It probably smelled like normal jizz when it went in you, but hot jizz that's been partly cooked by your pipes, not so much. Oof, that's foul… There's so much!" You set up the bucket to catch the contents of the valve on Cygnus's other leg, then go to fetch a scented candle.
You return with two candles and a box of matches. "Birthday cake or cinnamon?" you wonder aloud as you look at the candles. "Fuck it, let's have both." You light the candles and then pour a load of desiccant pellets into the cummy bucket. It'll be easier to throw out the contents if it's a solid mass. "I'd offer to clean the vents with a brush but I'd have to throw away the brush afterwards. You're getting a wad of kitchen roll." You clean out the residue from Cygnus's exhaust ports and then throw the 'wankerchiefs' in the bucket. "Right, that's you done," you say as you re-do the zips on Cygnus's trousers. "Let's go somewhere you can charge."
You and Cygnus return to your main quarters, and Cygnus plugs themself in to a wall socket before joining you on your sofa. Cygnus stretches out and makes a static noise like a relaxed sigh - clearly it feels good to charge off mains electricity again.
You reach over to pat Cygnus's hand - instead, they offer you both hands to pull you into a cuddle. You gratefully accept. You lean on Cygnus while you compose your thoughts about what to say next. "…I don't want to disbelieve you," you begin. "But your story about the mimic just seems too outlandish. But it's very unlike you to make up such a lie instead of just saying you don't want to talk about it." You're not sure which is worse: the possibility that Cygnus is lying to you on purpose, or that they genuinely believe they met a fairytale creature.
"What if I suggested taking you to meet Daisy?" asks Cygnus.
"…I'd think this was a dogshit attempt at bringing me to a surprise party or something," you say. "But I'll play along. Either I'll find out what you're covering for, or I'll find out what made you think there was a mimic."
┄
Cygnus has brought you to a cluster of partly-ruined buildings, covered all over with enterprising wildflowers - including many species of Asteraceae. "Daisies," you point out. "Is that why your mimic calls themself Daisy?"
"It actually is," says Cygnus. "The mimic said they were their favourite flower." This is oddly elaborate for a lie…
"Do you see Daisy?" you ask. "Or perceive them at all?"
"Not yet," says Cygnus. "If we walk around a bit more, I might see their heat signature."
"Alright," you say, "Let's walk around a bit and see what we find."
The air gets a bit closer, as if it's going to rain soon.
"Stupid human," Cygnus mutters contemptuously. …Oi! What the greasy poop?
"Well, fuck you too, smelly telly," you retort. "You want to explain what the fuck?"
A mist is descending…
"I'm getting tired of your shit," says Cygnus. "You drag me down, always getting in my way, holding me back. My life would be so much easier without a constant meatbag hanger-on."
"…Cygnus?"
It's getting harder to see anything through the haze, except the lengthening shadows… and Cygnus's screen, a glowing cartouche suspended in the mist.
"Why don't…" Cygnus says, advancing on you, an angry emoticon materialising on their screen, "I just kill you right now? I'd be doing both of us a kindness."
"I don't know what the fuck you are, but Cygnus does not talk like that. What have you done with Cygnus??"
"Shut the fuck up," says… Cygnus? "You barrel of festering spunk, you useless buttery fart."
"…Cygnus doesn't talk like that. I talk like that. You're not Cygnus." The fear building up inside you ignominiously falls away, as if embarrassed to have been in you. "…You're just an illusion." Was it harvesting words from your mind to put in Cygnus's metaphorical mouth?
The mist falls away.
"Fuckin' clever dick," mutters an unknown voice. "Couldn't make it easy for Daisy…"
Your surroundings of ruined buildings and flowers are back with crisp clarity.
"Oh, Pretty Swan!" the unknown voice rings out. A figure peels into view, as though you'd been looking at a thin sliver of something edge-on and then it turned to show its full surface. The owner of the voice appears to be a slightly off-model TV-unit. You find yourself trying to identify the model of head-casing, which doesn't quite fit any of the standards for TV-units - when the TV-unit's screen snaps open into a maw, its lower mandible splitting sideways into two parts a little like a wasp's beak.
"Cygnus, Pretty Swan," says the freaky-ass TV unit. "I am so sorry! I did not realise it was you approaching, or I would not have made you brave my mists. Daisy is sorry for your companion too." This entity is actually called Daisy? "Pretty Swan, Cygnus, you brought a nice friend?" says the strange TV. "Is it your mate?" …It moves its mouth as it talks. Techfolk do not have those.
"What the pantspissing fuck?" you say. "You're an actual shitting mimic!" This wasn't supposed to happen!
"You're an actual shitting human!" says Daisy delightedly. "Oh, Daisy thought humans were all gone."
"And Phaeton thought mimics were fictional," you say.
Cygnus moves in to hold hands with you, presumably as much for their own comfort as for yours. What kind of horrible things did your mental mist-illusion counterpart say to them?
"Cygnus, I'm sorry I doubted you," you continue. "But also not sorry because what the hell." You regard the mimic - Daisy - who is now making chopped-off grunts that sound happy. "Hello, Daisy. I'm Phaeton. You asked if I was Cygnus's mate - I suppose I am. Cygnus is my number-one fuckbuddy and my best friend."
Cygnus crumples shyly at the praise.
"Oh, Phaeton and Cygnus are lucky to have each other!" croons Daisy. "…Both of you remind me of my own mate. Cygnus looks very much like my old mate, but with antennae like Daisy's own horns. In the before-times, my mate and I took human form. Phaeton, you look very like them. If I don't look at you in focus… it's almost as though they're back."
"…Can you take any form you choose?" you ask. It makes sense to be human-shaped in a human-dominated world, and techfolk-shaped in a techfolk-dominated world, you suppose. But is Daisy like this all the time? You reckon if you could shapeshift, you would try out being many kinds of creature.
"No…" says Daisy. "We do as It speaks. Daisy can't say more."
"Does that mean you are fixed in TV form for now?" you ask. "Or could you take on your old human shape if you wanted?"
"Only TV for now," says Daisy. "Until synchronicity changes. Daisy can't say more."
"…Fair enough," you concede. It's clearly not worth pursuing the matter further.
"Daisy is glad of company," says Daisy. "Can I invite you both to my den?"
You look to Cygnus for guidance. From what Cygnus told you, Daisy seemed nice, but that psychic mist attack was scary. Daisy is probably powerful enough to destroy you both. "Shall we go?" you ask. You hope Cygnus gets your meaning - can they port you out if Daisy turns out not to be hospitable?
"I think it's a fine idea," says Cygnus, reaching out to hold your hand (they correctly guessed you needed a bit of reassurance - dear Cygnus). "I'd like to see your den again."
"And I'd like to see a mimic's den at all," you say.
Daisy leads you and Cygnus through the ruins. If you look carefully, you can see signs of the path Daisy normally takes - some slightly flattened flower stems here, some claw marks on a wall there. Your path takes you to the fire escape on the side of a building that looks as though it might have been a little apartment block above a ground-floor shop.
Daisy leads the way up the fire escape, with you next and Cygnus bringing up the rear. You can see now that what you took to be Daisy's garments are actually folds of leathery skin, closely approximating the typical Alliance outfit. The illusion is broken a little by some leathery spines on Daisy's upper back. You wonder if these are like chicken spurs, marking the dominant individual in this area, and Daisy has grown them by default. Maybe they're a defence against other mimics biting them there?
You arrive on the roof, where you behold the pavilion that Daisy has chosen for their quarters. From here you can see bits of blue glass arranged on windowsills to act as suncatchers, as well as other blue trinkets here and there. Evidently, Daisy has a favourite colour. You make a mental note of that - maybe you can find a nice blue thing to give to Daisy for a present. Daisy opens the door to the rooftop pavilion - it doesn't appear to be locked.
"Cygnus and I could probably fit a lock in that door for you," you volunteer. "Would you like that?"
"Daisy doesn't need that," says Daisy. Maybe they're very confident no-one will dare steal from them. "But appreciates the offer."
Cygnus takes your hand as you both follow Daisy into their den. Their main room is piled with scavenged soft furnishings - pillows and cushions and blankets and duvets. It looks as though Daisy can flop down anywhere they like and end up in a comfy cosy nest. Not a bad design philosophy.
Daisy walks around you, apparently sniffing at you. You can't see that Daisy has nostrils, though - maybe they have something like a Jacobson's organ inside their mouth, or maybe their scent receptors are hidden somewhere else.
You wonder if you'll ingratiate yourself by following suit. You sniff at Daisy, and they make what sounds like happy clucks in response. You copy Daisy, smelling them in the same spots they sniffed at you. You can smell their breath, pleasantly warm and sweet.
"You smell like friendship," says Daisy. The chromatophores on their pseudo-screen affect a pattern not unlike a smiling emoticon - impressive!
"I will take that as the compliment it sounds like," you say. "You smell pleasant." Daisy smells warm, like nice old wood and leather and like fresh spring smells. If only you could bottle it and make a scented candle.
Daisy cranes their head forward and delicately closes their jaws on your hand. If you tried to pull your hand free, you'd cut yourself on Daisy's sharp teeth, but Daisy is otherwise holding your hand gently. This is clearly some kind of play behaviour. You keep your arm joints floppy so you can leave your hand where it is while you lower your own head and chomp Daisy's hand. Daisy seems absolutely delighted that you know how to play this game! Cygnus's screen-expression goes from concerned to confused.
You very gently wriggle your fingers inside Daisy's maw, as though in defiance. At the same time, you play-growl and jiggle your head to mock-savage Daisy's fingers. Daisy follows suit, pretending to eat your fingers while wriggling their own fingers in protest. You laugh at this silly game, and Daisy follows suit, making happy-chuffs of laughter. Cygnus looks amused at what fun you're both having.
Daisy releases your hand. You dare to give Daisy's own hand a gentle play-nip before following suit. Daisy emits a cluck of approval at your audacity, then with a great throaty purr leans against you and pushes you over with their great angular head.
"Daisy, be gentle with Phaeton," warns Cygnus.
"Not to worry," you say. "You know what you're doing, don't you, Daisy?" You can feel that Daisy is acting with calculated strength to not hurt you. You and Daisy playfully wrestle and grapple, both play-growling and giving the gentlest of bites, both taking turns to let the other push them over and pin them before relenting. This is such fun! You're indulging a mammalian play-behaviour you don't normally get to. Before long, you and Daisy are both wheezing with laughter in a heap.
"Pretty Swan, join us," croons Daisy.
Cygnus delightedly slides themself into a cuddle-pile with you and Daisy. Cygnus reaches in to pet your head, and you very gently bite Cygnus's fingers in mock fury - taking care to delicately bite with only dry incisors and not with wettened tongue and canines. Cygnus taps your nose in mock retaliation, causing you to open your mouth in laughter, and set Daisy off. The three of you squirm pleasantly together before collapsing into a cosy nest of blankets and pillows.
"Pretties," says Daisy. They sigh happily. "Thank you for coming to see me. …I am sorry about frightening you with my mists."
"It's alright," you say. "We should have let you know we were coming, really. …Cygnus, can we hook Daisy up with a communicator? I guess a solar charger too. Maybe even a tablet, so we can share videos."
"I'll see what I can do," says Cygnus.
"Daisy would like that a lot," purrs Daisy. "I've been lonely since my dear mate died."
"Well, you have a new friend now," you say, "If you'll have us."
"Daisy will," says Daisy happily.
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"Can I set off the flare?" asks Cygnus.
"I wanted to," you say. "Play scissors-paper-stone for it?"
You draw stone, and Cygnus draws paper. Cygnus playfully claps their hand onto your closed fist to hammer home their victory, and you hand them the flare gun.
"Frank Zappa and the Mothers -- had the best place around," you sing to yourself as you watch the blue signal flare trace a parabola. "But some stupid with a flare gun -- burned the place to the ground."
You and Cygnus admire the flare for a few seconds more, then head off through the ruins towards Daisy's den. By your previous agreement, the flare will have indicated to Daisy that you're approaching, so they'll know to hold off on their protective psychic defences that keep out intruders from their territory.
The air becomes closer, damper-feeling and more oppressive as you approach - the subtle signs of Daisy's mind-warping mists taking effect. You turn to Cygnus and ask: "Do you think Daisy didn't notice the flare?"
Cygnus's screen displays a horrified emoticon, then their screen melts out of their head like glowing mercury, and the rest of Cygnus dissolves like a pillar of sugar in the rain.
"Dai-sy!" you call out. "Stop making us hallucinate freaky shit! We set off the flare!"
Cygnus appears, running into view from around a corner. "Phaeton!" they cry out in panic. "We have to-" Cygnus's sentence is cut off as Daisy appears from around the same corner - before rapidly growing in size as if striding towards you from a great distance, then snapping their jaws forward and chomping Cygnus in half. This cannot be real. …You can only imagine what poor Cygnus is being made to hallucinate.
The giant illusory Daisy bears down on you, warped into a monstrous form bristling with spikes. It isn't real…
It isn't real…
It isn't real…
The illusion-Daisy flares its tri-part jaws, as if to swallow you whole-
"You can't eat me," you bluff. "I'm a moose." You spread open your hands and touch your thumbs to your head, in an approximation of palmate moose antlers. "My antlers are too wide; they'd get stuck in your throat." Fight the illusion with more illusion. You bellow in your best imitation of an angry moose.
The Daisy-illusion looks very unsure of itself. This is not how prey is supposed to act! The illusion twitches like a glitchy recording, then rapidly fades out of existence as Cygnus bursts through it from behind.
"Please be the real one this time," says Cygnus, clamping their hands to your shoulders. They initiate a teleport - Daisy and their illusions can't enter the actual void.
Cygnus seems relieved to see you still with them. "Found you," says Cygnus triumphantly. "I think Daisy tried to throw me off by making you appear to be making moose noises."
"No, that actually was me," you say. "I was making moose noises."
"…Of course you were."
Cygnus holds you close as they navigate through the void-pathways right to Daisy's door. You'd previously agreed with Daisy that you'd cross their territory on foot after setting off your signal flare, but they've clearly broken that agreement by not holding off on their mental assaults. …Is it wise that you've just come right to their door?
The area still seems to be surrounded by fog, but Daisy's door is close enough that you can see it clearly despite the illusions. You scratch at one of the door's wooden panels to announce your presence - you don't want to startle Daisy with the suddenness of a knock. "Daisy, may we come in?" you ask. "It's Phaeton and Cygnus."
A couple of seconds of silence, then the fog falls away, and your surroundings are back in sunny searing clarity. "Come in," says Daisy, though their voice is raspy and weak.
You enter and find Daisy curled up in a nest of bedding - they're clearly as unwell as their voice sounded. You shrug off your backpack and set it on the floor before hurrying forward to meet Daisy. "Oh, Daisy, you poor thing," you say, touching your wrist to Daisy's head to gauge their temperature - they feel too hot. "No wonder you didn't see our flare."
Poor Phaeton, poor Cygnus," says Daisy. "Daisy is sorry you had to brave my mists once again."
"No harm done," you say, putting your hand gently on Daisy's, as Cygnus moves in next to you. "Have you had food and water recently?" you ask Daisy. You notice all the picked-clean bones surrounding Daisy, gnawed open and the marrow chewed out - from the size, you guess venison bones. At least Daisy's eating well.
"Could you bring me a couple of water bottles from my stash?" asks Daisy, a little weakly. "Floor just below this one."
Cygnus vanishes in a cloud of teleport-fog, and re-appears a couple of seconds later with a water bottle in each hand. (You'd noticed that Daisy has a solar still on the roof for filtering rainwater - they must keep a supply of scavenged water bottles for when they haven't got time for that.) Daisy sits themself up and gratefully leans on Cygnus as they sip the contents of one of the bottles. You admire how their toothy chomping jaws manage to do that without spilling a drop - you were half-expecting Daisy to crunch down the plastic bottle whole.
"Poor Daisy," you say, rubbing their upper arm. "If we'd known you were unwell, we would have checked on you sooner." (Daisy finishes their drink and lies back down, while Cygnus finds an empty carrier bag and tidies away the bone debris with it.)
"Not ill," protests Daisy.
"…You seem unwell," you point out. "You're overheating and you sound and look weakened. Are you in any pain?"
"Back hurts," says Daisy.
You move around to Daisy's back to check for any obvious ailment, while Cygnus holds Daisy's hand. Daisy's upper back feels hottest of all, and the flesh feels taut and slightly damp, like the tightness and pus-wetness of infection. "You appear to have an upper back injury that's become infected," you say. Will human antibiotics work on a mimic? "Did… something impale you that you couldn't pull all the way out?"
Daisy rasps a negative.
There are two oddly-symmetrical points, one each near Daisy's shoulder-blades, that appear to be coming to a head of tightness, as though twin cysts are forming. You experimentally brush one with the back of a finger to gauge its texture - maybe it needs lancing and draining.
"There," says Daisy between gasped breaths. "They're almost done. Can you rip it out?"
"If there's something stuck in you," says Cygnus, "I'm sure it'll hurt less and heal better if we cut it out." They draw a wrist-blade to show Daisy its sharpness.
"No! No cut!" protests Daisy. "It's… supposed to happen… please… just grab and rip, it'll sort itself out."
You wonder if Daisy is talking fever-induced nonsense… or maybe this is perfectly normal for mimics. "That doesn't sound like a good idea," you say, "But I don't know enough about mimic biology to argue with you. …I'm going to poke around gently so I can work out what's happening to your back."
You poke at one of the 'cysts' gently. It's very hot, and feels strangely spongy under the tightened top layers of skin. It seems to swell further under your touch, and after a short delay the other nodule lazily swells in response. The one you touched appears to writhe under the skin… is Daisy carrying soft-shelled eggs in their back like a pipa toad??
"What's in you?" you ask Daisy. Could it be parasites - some mimic-specialist equivalent of a botfly larva? …Are they actually eggs or baby mimics? Maybe making them erupt out of the expanse of Daisy's back is easier than re-forming their transient genital.
"Ascension," says Daisy.
'Just grab and rip, it'll sort itself out,' Daisy had said. You hope this is the right course of action… You press your fingertips on Daisy's back above one of the horribly warm, writhing 'cysts', and press your thumb below it. You apply pressure with your thumb and drag it upwards to meet your fingers, in an attempt to tug at the top tight layer. If it's ready to come off, it'll come off, you reason. Cygnus cautiously copies you on the other side of Daisy's back.
You exclaim in alarm and disgust as the top layer of skin rips and whatever was behind it spills out wetly… and far more of it spills out than should have been able to. Some of it lands on you and you're too frozen with revulsion to scream in disgust - until you realise it's not the torrent of infected fluids you thought it was; it's something solid and powerful, with a pleasant weightiness and lively warmth to it.
Daisy pushes themself to a sitting position and shakes out their new back-tendrils, which appear to swell into their full size like a newly-hatched insect's crumpled wings unfurling, while Daisy's back-muscles ripple and reconfigure themselves. Both of Daisy's new limbs have a set of menacing opposable claws at their ends… you realise what it reminds you of.
"It's rather like Polycephaly's stems," you point out to Cygnus. "But made of meat."
"Daisy earned Its gift," Daisy says proudly. "Thank you, my friends - it would have happened by itself eventually, but that helped."
Daisy suddenly looks healthy and invigorated, as if all their previous weakness burned away. They whip-crack their new limbs to their full length and shiver their new grabber-claws in delight. Daisy looks… more like themself than they did before - as though this is how they were supposed to look all along. Daisy growls in pleasure as they flex their new limbs and admire their new claws.
"Can we help you tidy up?" you ask. "Then we can show you how to use the communicator we brought you."
"…I would appreciate that," says Daisy, taking stock of how many pieces of their bedding got splashed with lymph when Daisy's new tendrils erupted into existence.
While Daisy removes the affected bedding, you and Cygnus clean your hands. The pair of you help Daisy haul out fresh bedding and lay it out.
"Can I take these bones off your hands?" you ask Daisy, pointing to the bag Cygnus filled. They won't be much good for soup now that Daisy's already eaten the marrow. "I can make bonemeal out of them and bring it to you later - you can use it as fertiliser for veggies. I can bring you seeds for those too; I've plenty."
"Daisy is very happy to take you up on that," replies Daisy happily. "Thank you, Phaeton."
"Consider it an open offer for any bones you've finished with," you say. "I can probably do the antlers too, if these are deer you're hunting. Would you like me to swab your back?"
"No need." Daisy grins. They pick up their remaining water bottle and find soap and a cloth. They pass the items to their back-grabbers - and after a couple of false starts, Daisy cleans their own back, each of the two tendrils swabbing the other. It's quite a spectacular sight!
"Now you have those, you could more easily hug both of us at once," you point out.
Daisy sits down and delightedly beckons to you and Cygnus, first with their hands and then with their new grabbers. You and Cygnus join Daisy for a multi-limbed snuggle, and you hear yourself sigh happily at the warmth and closeness of Daisy's gentle squeezing. Daisy seems a little softer and fatter than they did at your first meeting - you guess they had to pack some energy on for their transformation. It might make their silhouette more obviously not-techfolk, but it makes for a nicer cuddle…
"I'm delighted to see you again, my pretties," says Daisy. "I'm sorry you had to see Daisy in such an untidy state."
"What's a little slime between friends?" you say, and the three of you laugh a bit.
"I feel… quite energised," purrs Daisy. "And most pleased to see you both…" Daisy squeezes you and Cygnus to them, wrapping you in their new coils. Cygnus purrs their speakers at this treatment, and you softly growl with pleasure, unthinkingly echoing Cygnus. "Would you keep me company a while longer and let me pleasure you?" whispers Daisy. They nuzzle their teeth to the top of your head and nibble at your hair affectionately.
"I'd love that," you whisper back.
Daisy strokes and rubs you with one hand and one coil, while turning their attention to Cygnus with the other two. "Cygnus, Pretty Swan, let me try my new claws in you. Oh, please let me."
"I'd love for you to try that," Cygnus replies as they stroke Daisy's claws.
Daisy waits for Cygnus to unbutton their garments and expose their charging port. "Guide me, Pretty Swan," says Daisy, letting Cygnus push Daisy's claws home in Cygnus's charging port.
Cygnus strokes and rubs Daisy's grabber, pushing it further into their charging port, encouraging Daisy to massage the inside and push their claws together to squeeze the septum between Cygnus's two charging slots - making Cygnus purr their speakers at the sensation.
While Cygnus rolls onto their back and revels in the attention from Daisy, Daisy purrs and displays their null-crotch to you, blank with promise.
"Which would you like best, dear Phaeton?" asks Daisy. "It's all the same to me." Daisy's null-crotch takes on a gentle swell, like a fruit ripening under the summer sun - before blooming open into an inviting pussy with warm wet generous folds, fat with desire. Daisy's newly-formed pussy retreats upwards as if donating mass to their clit, which proudly transforms into a handsome cock, crowning Daisy's new scrotum. You can't decide whether you'd rather touch Daisy's velvety folds and wet cunt-walls or play with their balls, letting them spill over each other in your palm. Both of their forms smell so good, the spicy-pea smell of their cunt giving way to the ocean and sandalwood scent of their dick and balls.
Something occurs to you. "Can I… see the form you used to fuck Cygnus's charging port?" you ask. "I'm curious about what other shapes you can form."
Daisy's cock melts back into their crotch, forming a null-mound again. Their blankness blooms and splits once more, forming a welcoming anemone-tangle of tendrils, fat and slick. "Is this what you wanted to see?" purrs Daisy.
Oh, that's absolutely gorgeous… a nest of tongue-like tendrils that can soften or stiffen at Daisy's will, and press to every contour of your own junk…
"May I touch?" you ask.
Daisy reaches for your hand. You let them take it, and guide your hand into their squirming morass. Your hand is massaged by the many eager tendrils, curling over your fingers and pressing themselves into your palm.
"Daisy's most versatile form," Daisy boasts. "Fits any genital… and more besides." Daisy admires your junk, stroking around it with a finger and teasing your inner thighs. "So pretty," Daisy says. "Let me appreciate you properly."
You remove your hand from Daisy's spectacular junk as Daisy embraces you to them, directing you to settle your own junk into their welcoming tangle of tendrils. Daisy's warm tendrils squirm against you, finding your folds and rolling into them, warming you and sliming you up. More of Daisy's tendrils caress your inner thighs, kneading the soft flesh they find there.
What is there, twitching in time with your pulse?
You have a cock. Will you change this?
Daisy's morass of tendrils makes a warm nest for your half-mast cock as it rapidly fills out to full-mast. Their tendrils pull you home, enveloping your cock with their squirming warmth. Tendrils squeeze and stroke down its length from base to tip, each tendril rolling off the tip immediately followed by another one behind it. More tendrils find that warm soft place behind your scrotum where it joins your gooch and press and grind there, the tendrils forming little circles with their tips.
You buck your hips at Daisy's encouragement, and Daisy draws you in further, making their tangle of tendrils roll inwards and gape into a cavity that your cock can fuck - a tendril-garden enclosed, so warm, squeezing you close and tight. That tunnel of tendrils coils around your shaft, tugging at it in a rippling motion and making your cock feel as though it's burrowing endlessly.
Daisy teases your cock-slit with a fine, slender tendril - it's amazing how Daisy can absorb and re-form their tendrils, making fatter or thinner ones as needed to pleasure you.
"May I?" purrs Daisy as the fine tendril presses its tip against your little slit.
Daisy is offering to sound your cock. Would you like this?
"…Yes," you breathe.
The little tendril finds its way home, pushing its way into your shaft - it may be a fine wisp of a tendril, but it's making your cock feel stuffed. Daisy's tendrils stroke and rub your glans on the outside, while the fine tendril rubs from the inside. Your glans feels as though it must be rock-hard.
Continue…You have a cunt. Will you change this?
A tendril laps around the hood of your glans, pressing into the subtle fold where the prepuce becomes your inner labia. Daisy makes their tendril push and press so that your prepuce does the work, rubbing itself into your hardening glans.
Daisy lets another tendril lap tongue-like at your pussy's exit, as though taking a friendly lick. The tendril lazes its way between your outer labia, exciting them as it goes, and pushes gently as if to enter further.
"Can Daisy go further in?" Daisy whispers, their breath warm and sweet.
"Ohh… yes…" you breathe - you gasp as the tendril cautiously snakes inside your pussy, little by little, investigating its layout, its friendly slime mingling with your own.
"Is that nice for you?" Daisy asks softly.
"Yes…" you breathe.
"Can Daisy give you more?"
"Oh, please…"
Daisy pushes in another tendril to join the first, letting the two tendrils rub together inside your pussy, stimulating your walls with their squirms. You push your hips into Daisy's, trying to devour and envelop more of Daisy's length with your cunt…
Daisy seems to understand what you want. "I've got you," croons Daisy, slipping another tendril into you, and letting the middle of the now-trio of tendrils fatten and fill you and push the two slender squirmier tendrils into your walls. Daisy grinds into you to meet your hip-thrusts.
Your glans is getting so warm and so hard… your thighs and your buttocks are getting charged up as though they're stuffed full of electric juice. Beside you, Cygnus flickers their blades as they buck under Daisy's claws in their charging port, then lets their blades extend fully - you can tell they'd love to bury them in a willing charging-port, but no-one here has a suitable orifice for them. Daisy seems to have an idea…
Daisy unwraps their other back-stem from you, then swings it in to wrap Cygnus's wrists in it, binding them together… Daisy brings their grabber in and clamps Cygnus's blades together. Cygnus writhes and squeaks at the current being forced to flow and pulse through their exposed blades, back and forth into their frame, having nowhere else to go…
The sight and sound of Cygnus is making you debilitatingly fired up - seeing your pretty TV friend bucking into Daisy's claws and being forced to rile themself up with their own current is achingly hot, and you're having to press and grind yourself into Daisy all the more. You're almost too aroused to move of your own volition, but you can't not do it.
Daisy croons and trembles delightedly under you, revelling in pleasuring both you and Cygnus simultaneously, and in the sensations of you pushing into their tangle of tendrils.
You rut Daisy, your mind melting into that stage where you are no longer person but creature, tumbling down the ladder of genetic memory and feeling the same primal, feral lust that you would have felt five hundred thousand years ago, five million years ago, fifty million years ago.
You cum, shuddering against Daisy - Cygnus is becoming worked up at the sight of you so aroused, and arches all the harder into Daisy's touch…
You inadvertently make a sort of croaking bark as Daisy gathers their powerful crotch-tendrils and scoops up all your squirt, the extra stimulation on your junk catching you by surprise. Daisy wetly disengages from you… and deftly rolls onto Cygnus while opening their biofuel burner, and deposits all your and Daisy's combined slimes inside Cygnus. Cygnus seems delighted by this treatment, and shudders out their own orgasm, the static on their screen boiling.
Daisy releases Cygnus's wrists, and Cygnus delightedly flops into relaxation, idly petting you as you cuddle against them. Daisy moves in on Cygnus's other side, settling in for a cuddle and draping their back-tendrils over the pair of you. You nuzzle around Cygnus's biofuel burner, lavishing on it and revelling in the lovely combined stink of your and Daisy's cum mixed with Cygnus's own faint scent of clean oils.
You don't know how much good you've done me…" whispers Daisy dreamily as they rub your head.
You rather think you do.
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This is an adult-rated fic, which means that horny/lewd/creepy comments are welcome! I'm as into this as you are.
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