Ono: Thank you to our two lovely reviewers for the last chappeh.
Christina: CryingMarionette, and SangNoire, you guys are the best!
Ono: I hope you guys enjoyed that shower action, 'cause there's more. (Psst, that's a warning.)
Christina: This chapter isn't for the faint of heart...
Ono: Or the weak of stomach. :D
Christina: But if you've made it this far, you should be fine!
Vitiate
Chapter Four: In Which Ryou is Beslimed
Ryou stood very, very still, frozen beneath the torrent of ice-cold water hammering down upon him. Internally, things were a completely different ballgame; Ryou's subconscious thoughts were a blurred, mangled mess of panic and terror.
If one battled through the rational, irrational and just damn ridiculous of his worries, the basic, primary problem could be deciphered as:
I'm trapped, naked, and a giant, tentacled beast is after me.
The situation seemed dismal, to say the least. Without the assistance of the usually omniscient Ring Spirit, Ryou could safely say - without a shadow of a doubt - that he was completely and utterly doomed.
Shutting off the water, his body started to spasm due to the severe drop in temperature he'd exposed himself to. In his utter desperation, he attempted contact with the spirit one final time.
Spirit? Please, help me.
Nothing. The Spirit of the Ring remained silent. It didn't make any sense. Granted, with every situation in the past he had never asked for his help; he simply slipped into control without so much as a whisper to Ryou, but still. Surely he wouldn't want Ryou injured, or damaged, or killed?
I thought I was your vessel, Spirit? I thought you needed me?
Ryou felt incredibly low as he begged for the assistance of the parasitic being that he had been attempting to rid himself of not too long ago. But, given the choice, he would accept him over the monster that currently had him cornered in a grating, unnatural laughter welled up once again, echoing eerily; whether inside the chasms of his mind, or against the metallic surfaces of the bathroom, he wasn't sure. There was a steady drip drip from the shower-head, interrupted by the off-rhythmic sound of the slime leaking across the floor.
If you are afraid now... The new voice said, It tickles me to imagine how you will react to my true form.
One of the rapidly changing tentacles wrapped itself around the handle of the shower door with an abhorrent sound. Some desperate part of Ryou hoped that perhaps the slime would be too slick to properly maintain a grasp on it, but a firm yank not only opened the door, but ripped it completely off of the hinges. The glass fell to the ground with a spectacular sound, muffled only where it hit the thicker violet goop.
Ryou cringed and shut his eyes, trying to step away from the far spread glass, and, by extension, the creature, only to slip on a diluted puddle of cold water and slime. He fell and sustained a glancing blow to his head when it hit one of the handles meant to adjust the temperature. His vision spun from where he lay in a pathetic sprawling heap on the ground, the only consolation being that he could no longer properly see the monster.
"Damn..." he hissed in spite of himself. It was a wonder he hadn't killed himself yet, jarring his skull twice in one day. Though, at this point, death in this way might be merciful.
It reignited the pain from beforehand, but was not merciful enough to leave him unconscious. Every bit of him curled into a defensive position. Useless, but instinctive. It wasn't as though lashing out or running away could be considered possible options. Better to be in the form of a small ball than to have himself fully exposed.
His cheek rested in the reeking ooze and a good portion of his hair had become sodden with it in place of water. So much for cleaning it off.
When the tentacles were not instantly upon him Ryou dared to open one eye only to squeeze it shut again and outright cover his face with his hands when he caught sight of the looming beast. From this angle it appeared even larger than before.
At some point, Ryou had begun to accept traumatic supernatural events as a part of his life. Perhaps it was as early as when he first came across his newest group of friends slumped, unconscious (soulless, he would learn later) over on his Monster World RPG table. Or perhaps as late as when he awoke with a stab wound on his arm, wind whipping at his face as Slifer loomed over him. There were countless times to choose from, and probably many more that he did not remember as he was not conscious at the time.
But this. This topped them all.
His depressed thoughts were interrupted by a small hiss and a tentacle prodding at his face.
Trust my servant to leave me a vessel that is damaged.
No, not his face, Ryou realised all too quickly, but the stump that was left of his finger. Behind the false security of his hands he blinked in slight confusion. Pain ignited as the intrusive touch became a little rougher and blood beaded up out of the still relatively fresh wound. He bit on his lower lip to keep himself from letting out any hurt noise, not sure how the thing would react to it. For all he knew, showing signs of pain might make the sadism that the tentacles showed before when they constricted around him return with a vengeance.
The creature continued speaking in what could have been near-conversational tone had it not been for the arrogance underlying the rough tenor. I trust you have no other deformities?
"Of course not!" Ryou protested, before he'd even considered the dangers of engaging the tentacled beast in conversation. He only hoped that the thing would not be the cause for any deformities.
A deep, rumbling noise caused Ryou to flinch, before he realised that the monster had started to chuckle - if the thunderous cacophony could possibly be regarded as such - and, despite the situation, he found himself irritated.
"What's so funny?"
You remind me of someone, mortal. At first, I struggled to see the resemblance - beyond the physical characteristics, at least - but now, I am starting to comprehend it more fully.
Ryou wasn't entirely certain if he should be reassured, or terrified, by the newfound sense of familiarity.
"Who?"
Do you need to ask, mortal?
If he'd closed his eyes, he could've almost pretended that he'd somehow ended up outside his apartment, during a particularly violent thunderstorm. Yes, drenched from head to toe, covered in slime - no, mud - and the booming laughter - no, thunder - resonating off of the surrounding apartment blocks.
He couldn't fool himself; especially since the beslimed beast seemed persistent in holding a conversation with him.
"No."
The thought of being compared to the Spirit made Ryou feel nauseous, but - somewhere, in the deepest corners of his subconscious, niggling - somewhat enthused, too. He couldn't deny that the Spirit of the Millennium Ring was indeed a powerful entity... although inherently evil, too, he reminded himself as he repressed that particular emotion. He certainly did not wish to be associated with him.
Ryou attempted to distract himself and simultaneously change the subject by asking, "What do you want?"
What do I want..? Ryou shuddered at the iciness that had entered its tone, and when he peeked at it he could see the blood red eyes narrowed to the point of being near imperceivable. I want all-consuming darkness to liberate this filthy excuse for a world. I want to char and devour any and every being that I please, mortal and immortal alike. But until I obtain what I truly desire... I believe I can settle for you, mortal.
"W-where..." He swallowed once, twice, attempting to reign in the sudden bout of skittish fear that almost overcame him again. "Where did you come from?"
The laughter returned, deep and throaty and so very condescending. You already know the answer to that. You freed me.
'Freed'..? From where? Part of him wanted to ask the question aloud, but his mind had become rather numb in the course of the past few minutes. God, it was so cold... the tentacles that had become a bit too comfortable with touching him slid along his exposed hip and thigh, causing his spine to arch and a high-pitched noise of protest to come from his throat. They were unbearable, as well, every bit of their slimy, slithery flesh - if they were even truly made of muscle and tissue.
He licked his lips, only to instantly regret it when he tasted the slick substance. "If I asked you to go back to where you came from... would you?"
The 'thunder' resumed once more, and Ryou assumed the answer to be negative.
"L-look... I didn't mean to do this, I was just trying to -" he found himself being cut off as one of the tentacles shoved itself into his mouth.
I grow tired of idle talk, mortal. I shall confirm that this poor excuse for a body does not in fact have any deformities that would prevent me from properly executing my plans.
Within moments his curled up form had been yanked into one that suited the beast: on his back, arms and legs splayed, with tentacles writhing like they had minds of their own across expanses of his skin. Ryou tried to drag his limbs backwards to reorient himself into a self-hug, but the larger being overpowered him with the ease that a parent exercised when restraining a small child. Uneven coatings of the cold liquid were left behind where the tentacles trailed and cupped and squeezed accordingly, leaving Ryou a shaking mass.
Through his shock and disgust he managed to gather that he should fight back. How, exactly, when he was being held down by a mixture of innumerous limbs and thick slime, was another matter entirely.
The appendage in his mouth tasted acrid and bitterer than anything Ryou had ever had the misfortune of experiencing before. His lips had to stretch uncomfortably far in order to accommodate it, as did his cheeks when it forced some of itself into them, coiling a bit in order to properly fit. Then, much to his horror, the tip began to nudge at the entrance to his gullet. He gagged, once, twice, but of course the pathetic convulsions his body initiated in order to expel harmful things would not work in this situation.
The hard edge of his teeth did not seem to bother it all that much, nor did his tongue, which the tentacle crushed to the bottom of his mouth with its mere size. He bit down on it multiple times - not even proper bites, really, just sad little attempts at moving his jaw - in a desperate attempt to get the slimy thing to leave.
The only consequences seemed to be that it drove deeper, past merely wriggling around in his mouth to worming into the tight cavern of muscle that was his throat. The slime lubricating it made this a far too easy task, though the walls of his esophagus ached, and his gag reflex kicked in fully.
Get off me! Get off me! Get off me...!
"Nnnnggh," the choked, muffled sound that escaped from between his forcefully parted lips hardly achieved the desired effect.
This body shall suffice.
Ryou wasn't sure whether he felt comforted or terrified - or both - by the tentacled beast's statement. Suffice for what, exactly? However, the beslimed appendage retracted itself from his gullet and around the rest of his body. He found himself too relieved to care about the rather ominous statement. He coughed, spitting large globules of dark-purplish goop onto the bathroom floor.
Wiping at the trail of glutinous slime dribbling down his chin, he stole a glance in the direction of the dangerously silent creature.
What the...?
It'd gone. Disappeared. Poof.
The only forms of evidence to suggest that the monstrous entity hadn't been a figment of Ryou's vivid, somewhat macabre imagination were the thick puddles of viscous liquid pooling across the floor, and the rancid-tasting fluid oozing slowly through his esophagus.
Ryou would've laughed, would've screamed with sheer joy that somehow - somewhat miraculously, and certainly unexpectedly - he'd been saved. Except, his abused larynx didn't wish to correspond, and instead his mouth simply opened and closed repeatedly, until he began to resemble a wide-eyed, rather surprised-looking trout.
He pounded a closed fist in the center of his chest and hacked once, twice, before spitting up another glob of the thick liquid. His other hand yanked the dial on the shower back on, uncaring whether the temperature would scald or chill him. It turned out to be the former, unfortunately for his clammy skin.
After allowing himself a yelp of pain and turning the knob completely the other way he positioned himself under it and opened his mouth so as to wash out every last bit of the sour taste. Once he had expelled more than a few mouthfuls he attempted to clean some of the gunk off of his body as originally intended.
It came off, but only after he very nearly scratched the skin to the point of bleeding. He discovered that his hands still shook slightly, and no amount of reassuring himself that it was okay, the thing was gone now, served to ease his anxiety.
When he had mostly cleaned off his hair - using up two bottles of shampoo in an attempt to rid himself of the filth - Ryou stepped out of the shower, narrowly avoiding the scattered glass.
Each and every one of his towels had fallen into the thick, now-congealing puddles, much to his chagrin; he didn't bother attempting to salvage any of them in order to dry himself off. While he did not particularly enjoy the idea of strutting about stark naked, there was only a short distance between the bathroom and bedroom where he could safely dress.
Naturally it struck him as rather odd when his feet instead took him to another room in his apartment. Specifically, the one that just so happened to contain the Millennium Ring.
Ryou glared rather hatefully at the aforementioned object. Why hadn't the cursed, wretched, ignorant inhabitant helped him? He knew from experience that it held the infuriating power to return to its host - even if he wasn't wearing the Ring at the time - and possess him. Possess him, and protect him.
So why didn't the Spirit help him?
Against his better judgement, he clasped damp fingers around the cold metal of the glorified pendant, before hurling it against the opposite wall.
Thanks for nothing, you bastard.
The Millennium Ring collided with the plasterboard, a satisfying crack echoing throughout the noiseless apartment. Even that didn't summon the Spirit from whatever nook or cranny he'd been hiding in throughout Ryou's ordeal.
"Goddammit, where are you? I never thought I'd actually want to see you, Spirit, but I do," he spat out, his voice harsh and sharp, and every syllable causing him immense pain in his sore throat. "Where are you?" He crossed the room, and picked up the Millennium Ring again, clenching the fingers of his non-mutilated hand tightly around it.
Then - before he'd even registered what he was doing, or considered the consequences of the action - he'd started smashing the precious, priceless artefact repeatedly against the wall.
"Come out, Spirit. Come out!"
Bits and pieces of plaster fell down in fragments, and at some point Ryou sliced his hand open on one of the pendulums; he was too angry to notice or care about the abuse he wreaked on both the wall and himself. That was, until the moment that he heard a voice in his head once more.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the one that he sought.
Miss me?
Christina: Well daaaamn, we thought we'd got rid of him!
Ono: Apparently the magic of plot convenience is not on our side.
Christina: But it does mean that more tentacle porn can ensue...
Ono: Yeeep, having Ryou deep-throat that tentacle can only satisfy Zorc for so long. ;P
Christina: Eeep. My poor baby!
Ono: Reviews motivate us so very much, and it makes us uber happy to hear from y'all. *gets down on hands and knees* So... pleeeeeease~?
Christina: Besides, if you don't review, we'll feed you to Zorc. :)
Ono: And I shall be very unhappy in spite of witnessing you being devoured. :'D
Christina: Ono, we should probably stop before we scare them all away...